The police keep us at Embankment station for ages, taking names and witness statements from those nearest the edge of the platform. I don’t say much, as I didn’t see anything. The platform is closed while they deal with the incident, and we all have to file out of the station to be questioned. It takes nearly an hour and it’s freezing and dark outside. Once it’s over, we’re told the Underground is closed now until Boxing Day, so give up on that idea and cram into a taxi instead. Sally and Louise drop us off outside a Chinese takeaway near my parents’ house, then head home together with contributions towards the final fare from all our pockets.
We shouldn’t still be hungry after the meal we had earlier, but we are. All the booze and stress, I suppose. We grab some food at the takeaway, mercifully still open, and arrive back at the house at one in the morning. To my relief, my parents’ guests have all gone and the house is in darkness, though remnants of the party are still in evidence, the dishwasher on its rinse cycle and half-empty wine glasses everywhere. In the kitchen, over a hot drink and our Chinese food, Dominic tells me and Jasmine that he saw the dead man ‘fly’ past him, as he puts it.
‘I think maybe it was a suicide,’ he decides in the end, ‘not accidental. But obviously I can’t be sure. There were so many people near the edge of the platform. It looked like he jumped. But maybe he was pushed and lost his footing.’
‘There’ll be CCTV on the platform,’ I say, trying not to sound as shaken as I feel. ‘The police should be able to work it out.’
Jasmine looks unconvinced. ‘In that crush of people? It was so crowded, I nearly fell under the train myself. And the quality on those CCTV films isn’t brilliant. I doubt they’ll be able to see much.’
I help myself to some noodles, staring down at them.
‘I wonder who he was,’ Dominic says.
I say nothing. But my mind keeps flashing back to the only thing I saw as people dissipated in panic from that end of the platform.
The grey hat, trampled on the ground . . . no sign of its owner.
My hand shakes and I put down my fork.
It must have happened directly in front of where I was standing.
My heart feels like it’s beating incredibly slowly. As if the blood in my veins has turned thick and treacly. Was it me who pushed that man onto the tracks? I remember grabbing at someone’s arm in the chaos, and feeling them shift under my weight. Then I pushed hard.
Looking back, I realise I can’t be sure where anyone was. Or exactly what happened. But there’s this dark tide of guilt inside me. Guilt and fear.
‘Catherine?’ Dominic leans over to kiss my cheek, and I grab his shoulder, holding on desperately. He laughs. ‘I’m not going anywhere, stop panicking.’
‘I thought for an awful minute it was you.’
‘Me?’
‘Under the train.’
His laughter stills. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘I don’t know.’ I manage a smile, wanting to reassure him. But inside I feel like jelly. ‘Just being silly, I guess.’
‘Time for bed,’ he says firmly, and puts down his fork.
Jasmine takes the hint and starts clearing up the takeaway. She has barely touched her food, I notice. Not surprising, perhaps, after what happened in the tube station.
‘You two go upstairs,’ Jasmine says in a low voice, scraping her plate into the bin. ‘I can sort this out.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course.’ Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘You don’t look too good, Cat. Best go to bed.’
I head off down the dark passageway to the stairs. I hate being treated like a kid. Yet people seem to treat me like one on a regular basis. Maybe I’m behaving like a kid, too.
Someone is coming downstairs. It’s Dad. He looks old and weary in his dressing gown, his hair dishevelled.
‘Oh, Catherine, thank God you’re not hurt,’ he says as I flick the light on. He hurries to embrace me. ‘Jasmine’s text only just came through.’
‘Text?’
‘About what happened in the tube station. So terrible.’ He studies my face sympathetically. ‘Her text said you were very upset.’
‘I thought I knew him,’ I blurt out.
‘The man who went under the train?’ He sounds stunned.
‘Maybe not knew, exactly. I thought I’d seen him before, that’s what I meant. Quite recently.’ I trail off under his searching gaze. ‘I could have been mistaken.’
I look down at my feet. My ankle isn’t hurting as much anymore, which is one good thing, at least.
‘Of course you were mistaken, darling,’ says Dominic, appearing at my side. He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘You were traumatised by what happened, you weren’t thinking straight.’
I say nothing.
Dominic gives my father a reassuring smile. ‘Robert. Did we wake you?’
‘No, I wasn’t asleep, I was . . . reading. Ellen is asleep though, so we’d better keep our voices down.’ Dad is frowning, his gaze still on me. It’s unnerving. ‘Catherine, may I ask where you thought you might have seen him before, this man?’
I think back to that day at the food bank. The woman with the buggy and the attitude. The woman I followed out into the street to give her some money.
‘I saw him outside the food bank once. He was driving a Jag.’
‘And that was the only time?’
I nod. ‘He was the same man who was on the platform tonight. I’m sure of it.’
My father is silent.
Dominic shakes his head, making a tiny noise under his breath. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says, ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But how can you possibly know it was the same man?’
‘The hat,’ I say simply. ‘That grey hat he was wearing. And the moustache.’
‘Hardly conclusive.’
Jasmine comes out of the kitchen, whistling softly. She stops at the sight of us all huddled in the hallway.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she says.
‘Of course,’ Dad says blankly. ‘It’s Christmas morning, isn’t it? Merry Christmas to you all.’ He glances at the hall clock. ‘Well, if everyone’s safe and in one piece, I’d better get back to bed. Your mother will expect me to be on turkey duty first thing in the morning. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
Dad turns and heads back upstairs. Jasmine follows him, yawning.
‘Oh hell,’ she says halfway up, looking back down at Dominic. ‘I forgot. The window in my room won’t shut properly. It’s probably freezing up there now. Any chance of a hand, Dom? Maybe some WD-40 too?’
‘More likely some elbow grease,’ he says with a grimace. Then he gives me a quick smile and heads up the stairs after her. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes. You okay to go up on your own?’ he asks.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, though in truth my ankle is aching again. I have a horror of people fussing over me. ‘I’ll see you in bed.’
I turn off the hall light.
The ground floor is dark and silent now everyone has vanished, but the landing light is on above. I walk up carefully, clinging to the banister in case my ankle decides to give way again.
I pause at the top of the stairs, hearing a muffled thud from the guest room. Dominic, presumably, trying to shut Jasmine’s window so she doesn’t have to sleep in an icebox. Further along the landing, my father’s bedroom door is ajar. My parents have separate rooms, just like the Queen and Prince Philip. They always have had, for as long as I can remember.
Perhaps if I talk to Dad on his own about what happened tonight, he’ll be more likely to believe me. I just can’t get it out of my head that I’d seen that man before . . .
I knock lightly on Dad’s bedroom door and put my head round when there’s no reply. The room is empty. The only light comes from a Tiffany-style glass lamp on the table next to his armchair, giving the room a discreet yellowish glow. Dad’s en-suite door is also open, the bathroom in darkness.
Where’s he gone?
I listen. There’s a rumble of low voices through the wall. Coming from my mother’s bedroom on the other side. I suck in my breath. Dad must have nipped in there to speak to Mum before heading back to bed, even though he said she was asleep. Perhaps he wanted to tell her what happened at the tube station. About what I thought I saw. Before I’ve even had a chance to give my side of the story. Once again, I can’t even go out for a drink with friends without everyone getting involved.
I am just about to retreat when I see it.
The black edge of a notebook, half hidden under some papers on the bedside table.
I wasn’t asleep, he had said. I was reading.