King's Cross
June 6, 1986
It was probably because of the smile.
Not because it was a particularly nice smile, although it was. But more than that - the fact that it existed at all. Nobody ever smiled down here. Usually people didn't even make eye contact. But there was the smile. He glanced up again. The smile came back. Now, he thought, that could be anything. Could be the man's just remembered a joke his son told him on the way out the door and had just thought up the perfect bon mot for when he returns through it. Or he might have had a particularly rewarding day at work, you never know, some people that age do. That, or he was quite possibly insane. He wouldn't be the first crazy person to ever take the tube. But the eyes didn't say crazy. And they were looking at him.
There was a shine to them. An aliveness next to creases that would have been more at home on a face ten years older. If anything could be called laugh lines then these would be an example. Of course he had no evidence for that. Only the smile. But as that was all he had to go on then yes, laugh lines seemed like the right idea. A smile and older eyes on a young man’s face.
The eye contact was uncomfortable. You weren't supposed to make eye contact down here. It felt like a violation of the rules.
Still, when the train came to a halt at King's Cross he took some pleasure (was that the right word?) in the fact that the smile was getting off at his station. But maybe he was just changing trains or heading north from the mainline station above. Scotland maybe. That was a nice thought. Smiling all the way to Scotland.
The crowd was moving slowly towards the signed exit, the young man from the train following the tail. Those old eyes darting about unsurely.
He wasn't sure why he did it. He hadn't spoken to a stranger on the tube since he was maybe twelve and visiting the capital with his parents.
A jerk of his head. "It's quicker this way. Especially if you're getting out on Euston Road or changing lines."
"It says no exit that way.”
He felt his face flush and burn, the man clearly thought he was an idiot.
"Yeah. . . It says that. But that's really more for herding purposes.”
But he was followed as he walked up the stairs at the far end of the platform with a few others who knew the trick. It wasn’t really a trick, he supposed, just going out the in stairs, but so few people ever did it that it seemed like his private secret. Through the barriers and past some more ‘no exit’ signs they came up into a narrow hallway.
"Is this the way to the ticket hall?"
“Piccadilly and Victoria just that way. Would have been a five minute walk with the crowd. My exit's this way."
"Thanks."
The smile flashed again as the young man disappeared around the corner into the ticket hall.
He wasn't sure why he had said anything at all. He had watched people glumly follow the crowd for years; taking a jealous pride over his mastery of the shortcut. But this time he hadn't.
It was probably the smile.