Chapter Two

The clanging became more insistent. ‘I have to get out of here,’ Lacey thought. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. Heart thumping; her eyes roamed wildly, searching for the source of the ringing. She alighted on the illuminated device on her bedside table. It was 7am.

It was a dream. It had all been a dream.

Frantically, she threw herself out from under the covers and began pulling out garments from drawers and cupboards. A rush of dizzying nausea washed over her and she slumped back onto the bed for a moment, regaining her centre. She continued with her morning routine, slipping into her shirt and trouser suit, which she had ironed and pressed the night before. Her mother, a nurse, had already left for work, leaving Lacey alone in the house. Her head throbbed as anxiety and panic gripped her. Doing her best to ignore it, she shouldered her handbag and retrieved her portfolio from the dining room table.

‘I’m going to get this job. I’m going to get this job.’ She repeated her mantra the whole way down the road, inwardly buoying herself along as she made her way into the train station.

Plugging her headphones into her iPod she stood back as the train roared into the station. Joining the crush of people flowing on, she squeezed herself into a space and leaned against the seats of the train carriage prepared to just immerse herself in the music. No such luck, at the next stop an inordinately rude girl stepped onto the train. Lacey tried not to listen as she spewed profanities and verbal abuse into her mobile directed at some poor sod who was apparently at home and thereby unhindered by the affliction of rush-hour tube travel. Phone call over, angry girl then turned her fury on some poor fellow standing in front of her. Blasting him for his McDonald’s-own coffee breath and abject proximity to her in such a small and confined space; she muttered that situations such as this explained how people were convicted of ABH. Lacey exchanged an alarmed look with the lady standing opposite. Coffee breath tried to explain there was little manoeuvrability for him as angry girl pointed out some space behind him. To her irritation he refused to move into it. She huffed and puffed until the train finally pulled into Finchley Road where to everyone’s relief she alighted – Lacey assumed to wreak havoc for the community of the Jubilee Line.

A deluge of people replaced angry girl and others who got off and the train continued forward on its journey. A few minutes after departing the next station, the train heaved to an untimely stop somewhere within the tunnel. Most people didn’t particularly notice this fact, engrossed in morning headlines and assorted literature. Then the lights went out plunging the train into darkness. Lacey looked up at the carriage ceiling, expecting the overhead beams to come back on. But nothing happened. Trying to ignore the unease tugging at her consciousness, she studied her fellow passengers in the muted light. People on top of people. Bags pressed into the backs of others. Sighs of irritation. The hands on so many watches ticking down the minutes as they stood and sat in unfriendly silence, willing the train to move forward so they could attend to appointments, meetings and other working commitments.

The driver’s voice crackled through the intercom. It sounded alien and far away.
‘Sorry for the delay to your journey Ladies and Gents, I’m just waiting to hear what the problem is but hopefully we’ll be on the move again soon.’ A murmur of discontented grumbles passed through the carriage. Lacey tried to peer out, beyond the double layered windows into the tunnel but recoiled at seeing the red brick of wall mere inches from the train’s exterior. Breathing heavily she fished in her bag for the bottle of Rescue Remedy she had plucked from the bathroom cabinet before leaving the house. Her trusty aid for the nerve-inducing ordeal of the interview; she slipped a few drops onto her tongue now, relishing the taste of the calming ingredients as they dissolved in her mouth.

She swallowed and shifted slightly on her 4” black Louboutin heels. Discomfort was beginning to settle on her limbs as the time passed, slowly.

Tunnel Vision

Monday morning.

7.10am
Severe delays reported on the Metropolitan line.

7.50am
Leave house and get on Met line train at North Harrow stn. Husband calls to say has just arrived at work (in Holborn) and to switch at Finchley Road because train took ages to get from Finchley Road to Baker Street on the metropolitan line.

8.30am
Arrive at Finchley Road and swap over the platform to get on a Jubilee Line train to Green Park. Sit for 5 minutes in the station.

8.45am
Train plunges into darkness… nothing. Can no longer read Metro article about alleged nookie between X Factor contestants Katie Waissel and Matt Cardle… damn!

8.47am
Driver announces there has been a power failure and assures us there will be information shortly.

9.30am
Driver makes his way down the entire length of the train. Announces once at the back that we will be walking back to St John’s Wood station… in the tunnel. But he has to isolate that end and the staff from St John’s Wood need to walk down to meet us.

9.45am
Passenger has asthma attack – calls for medical aid rumble through the cars like chinese whispers.

9.50am
Sporadic lighting comes on in the surrounding tunnel. Hmmm, try to resume X Factor gossip catch up. Give up, play Solitaire on iPhone instead.

10.00am
The driver – still at the back of the train – announces that actually he may be able to start the train and get us to Baker Street. Sighs of relief all round. He returns back through the train, thanking passengers for their patience: ‘Not that you have much choice, mind.’ Muffled laughter – heavy irony.

10.15am
Driver back in his car announces the train will most definitely not start and that instead we will be walking the half-hour track hike to Baker Street, but we must wait for the police and station staff to arrive first to guide us through the tunnel.

10.30am
Another girl has panic attack – fellow passenger gives up his seat to her (a bit late if you ask me). Offer her rescue remedy, she shuns it in favour of a bottle of water. Oh well, all the more for me then!

11.00am
The driver announces that actually we will not be walking to Baker Street – man on crutches emits sigh of relief – we will now be walking to St John’s Wood… hmmm.

11.15am
The police, station staff and our driver make their way through to the end of the train as some passengers verbally attack the police with exasperated cries of, ‘Well what the hell are we supposed to do now?!’ to which the police officers reply, ‘I don’t know… get a bus or something.’

11.30am
There is movement at the far end of our carriage – people are starting to move towards the end of the train. We start walking. Thankful for UGG boots – heels stowed in heavy gym bag slung over right shoulder with precious Zara bag carefully balanced on right arm along with scarf and coat – desperately in need of a shower…



11.35am
It’s dark, no sign of rodent life so far…



11.43am
There is a light at the end of the tunnel… literally!! Various voices echo this sentiment, laughing at their own wit… oh please people... get a grip!



11.45am
Nice man in orange vest offers a hand as I clamber out of the darkness up some narrow steps and onto the platform of St John’s Wood – am greeted by more men in orange, and a water fountain… with no water!

11.46am
Stop to capture one last image of epic tunnel journey…



11.50am
Am now out of the deserted station – smokers immediately block my path with furious puffing on assorted brands of cigarette. Try to call work – no answer on any phone. Leave message on one colleague’s phone. Mobile dies… regret amount of Solitaire playing on train. Wonder what to do now… need the loo and need to get to Green Park. Mum works at hospital two minute walk away, decide to make a pit stop… oh, what if Mum also stuck in tunnel. Call… she answers, is at work. Good – walk to hospital.

11.55am
Been to loo, been fussed over by Mum and Mum’s colleagues. Offered tea, coffee and biscuits. Have cup of water and one biscuit.

Midday
Try to call work again – still no answer. Google central switchboard number and call – get through to temp who informs me that everyone in meeting. Tell her to pass on message of morning tube hell and that phone has died. Will try to get bus.

12.15pm
Mum suggests cup of tea, decline and insist that I must go in search of a bus. Routes discussed. Leave.

12.20pm
Miss intended bus, no.13. Wait at bus stop with fellow Italian mothers and their precocious offspring, elderly people and assorted professionals.

12.30pm
Bus arrives – not mine, but going to Baker Street so hop on.

12.37pm
Arrive Baker Street – endure slight conundrum – waver between approaching no.13 bus and entrance to Baker Street tube station. No.13 doesn’t stop, forced to attempt the tube station. Accost station staffer who confirms that Green Park is open and Victoria Line is running. Thank him and make mad dash to Bakerloo line.

13.10pm
Arrive at work. Light-headed from lack of food and fairly traumatic experience.

Monday afternoon
Regale employees and husband (via phone) of said traumatic experience. Much sympathy and offers to leave work early if necessary. Cancellation of evening dinner plans and brief contemplation of intended trip to gym – think best to leave all until tomorrow. Am still in shock.