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“How about this?” Cath asked “If I correctly predict the next two people up those steps, you give me the jacket” It was possible Just Greenay out in Zone Four on the London transporta true coot too crowded, even during rush hour Most of the regulars for this particular train had already arrived The question was, Who was ?

A?”

“I’ll stop bugging you about the straitjacket”

This was a lie, but no lapsed Catholic froood cause, and Cath considered her career a good cause

Amanda leaned forward, all excitement now, and said, “Make it three and you’re on”

The first one was easy Cath heard the e down at street level and knew it had to be the dog guy from the park, because he always took the 7:09 frole ticket fro machine with cash

“Old guy in a fedora,” she said

He came up the steps and made his way to the empty bench next to them

A one down

Next up was tricky Norirl with the two-tone hair, but it was late su all week Cath i up the sun in a red bikini What if she was back, though?

The booh of Bill at the ticketcarried up the stairs The Merry Widow, then Bill was a friendly guy, but he pulled out all the stops for the Widow

“Redhead with three inches of cleavage,” Cath said

The Merry Widow rose into view, proud boso

Aave a lohistle of appreciation

Cath glanced at the station’s clock and repressed a smile She only needed one more to complete the hat trick, and you could set your watch by the next guy

“Tall blond man in an expensive suit, Financial Ti”

Thirty seconds ticked by, and City rose into view, punctual as ever and way too good looking to be human

Cath had a soft spot for City Fro for the train to Bank last winter, he’d intrigued her She’d given hi about him announced he worked in the City of London, the square-mile financial district at the center of the nified wool overcoat and scarf he’d worn all winter, the shined shoes, the ever-present newspaper Aristocratically re in a suit

Amanda applauded, whether for her or for City, Cath couldn’t tell She suppressed a triurin and allowed herself a ave her his usual stiff nod, the greeting they’d long since settled on for their seular encounters

She’d never heard City talk or seen hiet, just stood stoically in place until the train pulled up, then stared straight ahead once seated in the car Cool as a cucuined him when she wrote about him in her journal She’d bet her next paltry paycheck he had a posh accent, an expensive education, and a boring jobpiles of money around He was her polar opposite

Still, she always kept an eye out for his a week, either here or at Greenwich Park, where both of the, a Scandinavian god with flushed cheeks She loved that flash of pink on his face—such an endearing crack in his cool perfection It ether when he wasn’t looking, just to see ould happen

And now he’d helped her win access to the piece she so badly wanted for the exhibit You really had to love him

“When can I pick that jacket up?” she asked A back to face her