It was raining hard and the few people on Oxford Street pushed past each other for shelter in shops and cafes. Nobody had time to notice the small man in a hoodie as he walked hurriedly east towards Tottenham Court Road underground station. He felt the dampness seeping onto his shoulders and knew he should have brought his umbrella. But, he thought, who in a hoodie would carry an umbrella? He would have been noticed and Walter did not
want that. Or be remembered until…
He sheltered in the entrance to a department store and on a whim, went in. He found himself in the Men’s Department where he wandered for a few moments. He had no wish to spend any money now, for what would have been the point? He went back into the street. He felt disorientated. Should he turn left or right? He always lost his sense of direction when he came out of shops or cinemas.
“Excuse me, could you direct me to Tottenham Court Road?” he asked a plump woman, laden with shopping bags.
“No I can’t. I’m a visitor. I go by taxi.”
He stopped a man. “Get yerself a map,” he said, rushing away. The man in the hoodie felt a surge of anger. One useless woman, one rude boar of a man; that’s the sort of people he had to deal with. He gently pressed his midriff and felt something firm and reassuring there.
He suddenly remembered the way and carried on walking. And when he got to Tottenham Court Road, he turned back because his real destination was to be Oxford Circus. He knew it would be crowded by hundreds of people who would soon know his secret. And a few, perhaps many, who would never know. He smiled to himself, feeling the power.
Arriving, he stood still, just watching. Inconspicuous. A man minding his own business.
Those going out to the street dithered with their umbrellas and got in the way of the crowd coming in. A big man under a golf umbrella shouted, “Make way, make way,” and people actually did stand aside for him as he shook the water over anyone close enough to deserve it.
Walter sneered at the spectacle. These people would have something else to worry about very soon. He would show no mercy as he waited for the right moment to show them who had the real power. He was checking his belt again when he felt the vibration over his heart. He unzipped his parka, then his cardigan, and got to the phone just as it started to ring loudly.
A shrill voice. “Where are you Walter? Have you lost your way again? I’ve been waiting here ten minutes. You’re supposed to meet me here for afternoon tea!”
“Coming mother!” he said as he lost his signal and searched for his Oyster Card to scan at the barrier.
Mrs Mitty hated her son to be late on his birthday.
