She looked around the carriage. The main travellers at this hour were women with their shopping bags. It was one of those rainy dull days and the musty, damp smell of wet clothes and sweat wafted through the train. It was interesting to notice how many people read on the tube. They did this to avoid having to look at each other, naturally. A true Londoner avoided any contact with fellow passengers. Most certainly you didn’t talk to strangers. There was a distinct shortage of men; they travelled mainly at the rush hour.
      The few tourists stood out because they kept their eyes fixed on the line-specific tube map above the windows. She did the same thing, of course, but made sure that this wasn’t obvious. Three more stations to go and she kept a close eye on the new passengers that joined at each station. True Londoners wouldn’t do this of course as it was bound to attract unwelcome attention.   

      Today of all days, she had finally found the notice in the telephone box.  At the Post Office the man behind the counter had looked at her as if she was expected to visit today. She received Tijmen’s note and a poem, the plan was to meet in front of ‘the Coelacanth’ at the National History Museum. She started; the next stop was South Kensington.
      When she got off the train, she checked if she was being followed. She no longer noticed that this had become a habit. The signs at the station clearly showed her how to get to the museum. She checked her watch she had only five minutes left.

      Peoples voices resounded against tiled walls of the underground passage that lead to the museum. She was surrounded by families with lots of children and she was annoyed at the leisurely pace with which they moved.
      Finally when entered the stairs she had her first glimpse of the museum. The drizzle hadn’t stopped and she found herself at the end of a long queue of people winding its way up on the stairs, waiting to enter the museum. She was now extremely nervous and anxious. Calm down, Angel, she told herself, you’re nearly there. The English seem to enjoy queuing and waited patiently in spite of the rain, almost enjoying the slow crawl towards the end goal.

This book will be translation soon, to keep informed about progress, please email us.

‘Intriguing, exciting and full of striking scenes’ – Xandra Schutte, publisher

 

‘An intriguing book. Very well written. Congratulations’ – Anna Penta, editor