Finally, I spot a pair of police uniforms. A couple of armed policemen stand guard, their backs to a tall column in the centre of the concourse. They wear body armour and are bulky with equipment, black straps and pouches and radios, pistols on their thighs and rifles across their chests, index fingers resting against trigger guards. Instead of feeling relief, though, I find myself repulsed by them, by the closeness of these weapons to the tiny life in my arms. I’m no stranger to guns, but this is different.
Still, I’m going to have to talk to them, tell them what’s happened. We’ll all go to a back office, and I’ll give a statement and fill in some forms, and they’ll take the baby away from me. I’ll hand Mia over and that will be that. Hand her over to these men with their guns, these men equipped for war on the streets.
The thought gives me a cold, empty sensation, a pinch of unease in my stomach.
Today, here, now, I see threats everywhere. I have a powerful urge to take Mia as far away from these guns as possible. And I can’t stop thinking about the note in the baby’s bag.Don’t trust the police.But what option do I have? I think we could have been followed off the train, and it seems clear that Kathryn, wherever she is, is in some kind of trouble. I head for the two armed officers, preparing what I will say.This baby? She’s not mine. She was given to me . . .But as I approach, one of them touches his earpiece, speaks briefly into his radio, and then both hurry off towards the platforms without giving me a second glance.
I turn and watch them go, their equipment jingling as they jog towards the confrontation between the two sets of football fans, which is getting louder all the time. I can’t see any other police on the concourse. Maybe the ticket office? But this station isn’t a safe place. Guns, shouting, drunks, noise, crowds. Anger. Hooligans. Police on the lookout for knife-wielding terrorists and suicide bombers. I glance over my shoulder: the weirdo from the train is still following me. But it’s not just him, this whole place makes me uneasy. There’s danger everywhere and I feel exposed – it isn’t a safe environment for Mia. Thousands of people coming and going, packed together but oblivious to each other amid the hurry and the rush and the noise. There is a reason why train stations are a favourite target for terrorists.
Not here.
Don’t trust anyone.
Kathryn trusted me. Shechoseme.
If I have even a shadow of a doubt, even a flicker, I should trust that instinct to protect the baby. I have to make that decision for her.
I feel the weight of it, having to be responsible for others again.
I scan the station one more time for any other police officers, but see none.
Behind me, the shouting kicks up a notch.
Get away from them, all of them. Put distance between them and you, between them and Mia.
There has to be a smarter, safer way of doing this. I should find somewhere quieter and more controlled. I switch Mia to my other arm and she stares at me, on the edge of tears now, her little body rigid with alarm at the shouting and the noise.
‘We’re nearly there, Mia,’ I say. ‘Not long now until you’re back with your mum.’
But first I need to put some space between me and the strange man who’s followed us off the train, whether it’s me or the baby in my arms that he’s following. It’ll only take a minute to break contact, but I need a helping hand. I approach a stocky fortyish man in a yellow high-vis tabard with ‘Station Security’ printed on the back, while he’s encouraging a homeless man to move away from the cash machines.
‘Excuse me?’ I say.
The security guard turns, his broad face impassive. ‘How can I help?’
‘I’m really sorry to bother you but a man’s followed me off the train and he’s been taking pictures of my baby.’ I turn and point at the thin man. ‘He’s making me really uncomfortable and I just want him to leave us alone.’
‘That gentleman?’ He points a thick finger, his face darkening into a frown. ‘In the black jacket?’
‘That’s him.’
‘Are you both OK?’
‘I think so,’ I give Mia’s hand a protective pat. ‘Just a bit freaked out.’
‘Wait here, madam, I’ll have a word with him.’
He turns and approaches him with his palms up in calming gesture, speaking quietly.
I register the look of surprise on the thin man’s face, but I don’t wait to see what happens next. I turn away, smile down at Mia and walk towards the big archways that lead out of the station onto Melcombe Place, where the mid-afternoon sun is fighting its way through thinning clouds. I want to lose myself in the bustle of passengers coming and going, to get away from everyone who could be a threat.
I’ll do the right thing for Mia, but first we have to go somewhere safe; in the meantime I’ll take care of her for just a little while longer.
I walk quickly out of the station and head for the taxi rank without looking back.
5
Melcombe Place is busy with afternoon traffic and there’s a short queue at the taxi rank. I join the line, heart thrumming in my chest, keeping my eyes on the station exit in case the thin man emerges before I can get into a cab. There’s no sign so far but I know there is a side entrance too – he might go that way instead. Mia squirms a little and I jig her gently in my arm, the muscles already starting to ache from carrying her.
