The List

I didn't turn round.

I thought about it the whole journey. I thought about it at Gembloux, at Ottignies, at Brussels-Luxembourg. I felt as if someone's gaze were resting on the back of my neck, like a ray of sunshine through a window, and every time I moved my head, even to scratch my ear, I felt about as discreet as a brass band.

But I didn't turn round, because I knew exactly what would happen. I'd turn round, I'd see twenty faces, twenty people reading, sleeping, looking at their phones, and one of them would know, from my expression, that I was looking for him. And he would see me looking. And the game would be over. I don't know why I was so sure of it. I just was.