CHAPTER 15
Grant paced up and down the platform at King’s Cross. He looked at the station clock – 11.20. He had checked the time of the train and it was on schedule. He had taken the day off work – not just to pick her up, but he had some running around to do for the party. He was dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans, Reebok trainers and a San Francisco 49s football shirt – a present from Tom.
He had parked in a multi-storey at the back of the station. He looked at the clock again. 11.22. This was ridiculous. He felt like a kid on his first date. His stomach was turning somersaults and he had been to the station toilet three times since he arrived.
He sat down on a bench occupied by a sanguine-faced vagrant clutching a can of Carlsberg Special Brew. The man was balding with thin ginge
