tickets. My shoulders dropped. Little Ms Fidget was going to be beside me all the way to the end of the line. As if to confirm my fears, she wriggled in her seat, drummed her fingers on the edge of her bag, sniffed, pushed up her glasses and then started the cycle over again. I remembered I’d bought a Sunday paper at the station, so I pulled down the supplement from the rack and offered it to her. Her hands were shaking as she took it and she made an attempt at smiling, but I noticed the magazine stayed rolled up beside her seat. I saw, too, that she hadn’t removed her anorak even though
