Though her case was rather heavy, you'd never have guessed by looking at her carry it. Brown leather as I recall. I remember thinking that her maroonish poncho was chosen to complement the case. It was certainly not to cater for the weather. Rain. Something which hadn't been seen for at least four days by then. As you can imagine, she was not the only one who was fashionably unprepared. I myself was fortunate enough to have worn a hat.

Men with makeshift newspaper umbrellas cursed as they rumbled by with a diagonal posture of urgency. I suspect they were displeased to say the least. She however,  seemed not to notice the rain. She stood on the platform as drop after drop it danced on her cheeks now red from the cold. She wore no make up from what I could tell. Perhaps a small amount. She was fantastically plain in appearance, not unattractive. But perfectly average. She seemed distracted. I briefly considered engaging in conversation with her but this idea was inconsiderately interrupted by the ever nearing whistle of the train that was due to cart us to Blackpool. Through the wet stripey air I could see the steam-cloud thin out and disappear to the heavens. As it approached she gave one last glance around at which point I made eye contact. She abliged me with a bashful  smile and retreated her attention back to the train.

Setting her case down by her ankle for the first time since arriving on the platform. She took two steps, larger than her regular gait.  and a third that would she her land but inches from the nose of the slowing train. I didn't scream. Or shout. To be honest I didn't know I had seen anything until the police came. Her case was filled with clothes, a hairbrush and a small mirror.

I got the next train with everyone else.