A night of cancelled trains, buried secrets, and the moment someone walks through a door that should have been locked.

He asked how long her mother had been in Scotland. A couple of years, she said. That was when he told the story — the one about the girl he’d met on holiday, the one who never showed up. She was supposed to meet him at the train. He sat in a waiting room all night, feeling like the biggest fool on earth, and caught the first train home at dawn.

Peak, she said.

They pulled up at temporary lights. Either that, or someone was throwing a mobile disco in the middle of the road. The conversation drifted — old exams, hair loss, the usual small talk that fills the space when people don’t know what else to say. Then came the announcement: signal failure. Trains delayed everywhere. His train — the 17:35 to Glasgow — had been hit. “You’re joking,” she said. He wasn’t.

He told her to check the board, that there’d be another one. His was still running, he said, though he admitted it might be cancelled by the time they got there. She insisted on seeing him onto the platform, the way his father had asked. He told her not to bother, that it was ridiculous. She had promised. If the train was cancelled, they could try again in the morning.

“Should I turn around?” No. If the train was cancelled, he could wait. “Not all night, you can’t.” Neither should she. He told the cab driver to just take her to the station like they’d said, or he’d get another cab himself.

“Customers always right,” the driver muttered.

She told him to stop glaring at them. “Why should I?” “Because they could arrest you.” He’d just kicked off at two coppers, and she knew exactly why — because he had them bang to rights. All of this could have been avoided, he insisted. That man should still be walking the streets. “And abusing you,” she shot back. He didn’t flinch. He could still be walking the streets, he said. Sleeping in your bed. Raising his hand to you whenever he fancied it.

The police were talking about him now. He’d been intimidating — two officers, no less. But he wasn’t scared. She gave him that. Maybe it was guilt, she offered. Maybe what he really meant was: if you hadn’t let him out, I wouldn’t have had to kill him.

“That’s one interpretation,” he said.

The phone call came. That woman. She’d said he should have brought him. He didn’t need to hear the words — the face said it all. She had a point, and they both knew it. She still knew how to push his buttons. “It wouldn’t have killed me, would it?”

Then the news: Will’s train was cancelled. Signal failure. Cancelled, cancelled, delayed, cancelled. He said he’d phone and tell them to bring him home. No answer. The calls went straight to voicemail.

What the hell are you doing here?

She was inside the flat. His flat. “I hope you washed your hands,” she said. He told her to get out. The door was open, she claimed. It wasn’t. She had a key — his father’s spare, found on the pavement. Will must have dropped it.

“So you thought you’d just let yourself into my flat?”

She’d tried the doorbell first. No, she hadn’t. She was just returning the key. “You’re a liar. Give it to me.”

“I’ll tell them you’re here,” she said. He was supposed to be on holiday. Everyone was running around looking after his son — including an eighty-year-old man. He told her to get out. She had nowhere else to go. He saw it then — she’d planned to stay here while he was away. Goldilocks, he called her. “I’d have been a good little girl.”

“You’re insane.”

“Are you drinking this?” she asked, picking up his glass.

Cancelled. Signal failure.

“Is he coming home?”

No answer. None of their messages were getting through. Meanwhile, she still had the ump — and who could blame her? “It was Ben, not me,” someone said. “You’ve got to trust people.”

And then, in the middle of the chaos, a voice cut through: Will took the money from the safe.

No — Will didn’t take anything. “Did you actually see him take it?” With her own two eyes. She was standing at the door. He didn’t see her.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

The door swung open. *What’s she doing here?