Number Twenty Five
Story by R.T. Mason from Janus 21 It was raining — cold bleak November rain — and she took a taxi because in any case she didn’t trust her limited knowledge of the London Underground. The afternoon seen through the taxi’s rain-smeared windows was an all too appropriate backdrop to her own feelings — her mood of bleak dread. She felt an irrational wish that perhaps the taxi-driver would not be able to find it but he drove without hesitation through the rain-slicked streets. Only too soon he was saying, ‘Here we are, Miss. That’ll be £2.20.’ She got out and paid him and there it was: the expensive-looking apartment block overlooking the river. Riverside Court. On trembling legs she went in. The uniformed attendant looked curiously at her and for some reason she became suddenly conscious of the fact that under her skirt, under the rain-spotted coat, she was wearing nylons and a suspender belt. Because of course she did not normally w