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Prologue
Thenaclick,anditblossomedintoahugewhitemapoftheLondonUndergroundnetwork,eachlinedrawninadifferentcolor,everystationmarkedandnamed.
Theoldwomantooktheumbrella,gratefully,andsmiledherthanks."You’veagoodheart,"shetoldhim."Sometimesthat’senoughtosee.yousafewhereveryougo."Thensheshookherhead."Butmostly,it’snot."Sheclutchedtheumbrellatightlyasagustofwindthreatenedtotugitawayfromherorpullitinsideout.Shewrappedherarmsarounditandbentalmostdoubleagainsttherainandthewind.Thenshewalkedawayintotherainandthenight,aroundwhiteshapecoveredwiththenamesofLondonTubestations—Earl’sCourt,MarbleArch,Blackfriars,WhiteCity,Victoria,Angel,OxfordCircus...
Richardfoundhimselfpondering,drunkenly,whethertherereallywasacircusatOxfordCircus:arealcircuswithclowns,beautifulwomen,anddangerousbeasts.Thepubdooropenedoncemore:ablastofsound,asifthepub’svolumecontrolhadjustbeenturneduphigh."Richard,youidiot,it’syourbloodyparty,andyou’remissingallthefun."Hewalkedbackinthepub,theurgetobesicklostinalltheoddness.
"Youlooklikeadrownedrat,"saidsomeone.
"You’veneverseenadrownedrat,"saidRichard.
Someoneelsehandedhimalargewhisky."Here,getthatdownyou.That’llwarmyouup.Youknow,youwon’tbeabletogetrealScotchinLondon."
"I’msureIwill,"sighedRichard.Waterwasdrippingfromhishairintohisdrink.
