Sarah St Cloud took her hand mirror from her Salvatore Ferragamo handbag and checked her appearance. As usual, she was pleased with what she saw, but she made a few improvements anyway. She straightened her black leather beret and applied a coating of Ruby Woo lipstick. In the mirror, she could see a couple of shifty types in dark hoodies lurking behind her. They were muttering to each other in some strange foreign language. Sarah shivered. She always felt uneasy pretty much as soon she got off the Tube at Acton Town Station. The place looked like something out of some dreary Eastern European arthouse film, and it smelled like a public toilet.
Her iPhone buzzed. Sarah took it out of her bag and squinted as she peered at the screen. It was just her sister, Catherine, and she was tempted to
