The blue tin

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.

The top photograph showed two young men outside the old signal box. One held a sign saying LAST SHIFT. The other was trying to look solemn, although his rolled trouser legs were covered in mud. On the back somebody had pencilled: 23:14. Don't forget.

Vera put everything back. Once, searching a lost wallet for a name, she had read a letter she wished she had never seen. Since then she preferred to keep to the outside of other people's belongings.

Still, she walked out onto the platform. The footbridge shone with rain. It would close on Monday; the new underpass was already in use. At the top she noticed a white chalk mark on the handrail. Below it, a screw was missing from the old brass maker's plate.

There was no sign of the woman.

Vera thought of the dealer who had asked whether the café clock was for sale. People like that considered a building demolished while somebody was still mopping its floor. She took out her phone, then put it away. One missing screw was hardly evidence.

Back in the kitchen she placed the tin beside the unclaimed umbrellas. The clock above the door said 23:20. Her phone said 23:14. She tapped the clock's wooden case. It had been six minutes fast for months. Most regulars had learned to allow for it.