The 23:14 Traveller

Three evenings running, the woman came into the station café at eleven. She ordered tea, left the bag beside the glass and watched the footbridge. At ten past she paid. Four minutes later she was standing at the top of the bridge, exactly halfway between the lamps.

Vera could see her while she stacked the chairs. In her olive raincoat the woman looked as though she were waiting for somebody to finish parking. But the car park was empty. The last passenger train left at 22:56. After that there was only the freight train, which did not appear on the yellow departure board.

On Thursday a blue biscuit tin remained under the café table. Vera found it while sweeping. A strip of masking tape on the handle said BAS. The lid would not quite shut. Inside were a small microphone, coils of cable and an envelope containing three photographs. No address or telephone number.