I walk over to Charing Cross Road, to where my friends Sam and Lorna live. In Soho Square, groups of smokers talk casualties outside their offices. There is very little traffic on the roads and fewer people walking around, although being central London it’s still pretty busy. The colour red is missing; the buses which grind through Tottenham Court Road are gone. People are going about their day, buying lunch, sitting in the park, but more people catch my eye than usual.
At the flat we hug each other and talk about how the day had unfolded. The TV is on loud and streaming banners fill most of the screen. Sam says everyone he has ever met has called to make sure he is fine – even one of the guys he had a threesome with in Spain nearly two years ago. On the telly a man is being interviewed. He cannot look at the camera. He is dressed in a suit and he breaks while telling how they managed to open the train door but couldn’t escape onto the tracks not knowing if they were still ‘live’. A journalist comes on from a hospital and talks about limbs being missing - as if they will turn up somewhere, eventually.
Amber calls. My Mother and sisters have all rung. My sister Ellie was ‘hysterical as usual’. Amber will get a ride home; I tell her I will walk and it will take me a long time. We say we love each other.
Before get back to work I ask Sam, who has a huge DVD collection, if I can borrow a couple for Am and I to watch tonight. He is a horror buff like me, but today I don’t feel like any more horror.
‘Do have any without death,’ I ask.
‘Not really,’ he says and tells me he has a great vampire flick I’ll have to borrow some other time.
I decide on Moulin Rouge, which I hate, but which Amber will be able to stomach. I hug Lorna (‘I love you’) and Sam (‘I love you’) and head back out into the street just as a milky light peaks out from behind the clouds.