There was a voicemail message but, of course, without credit, I also couldn’t access that. So, I rushed toward the meeting point, backpack on back and briefcase in hand, hoping, if the call had been from my underwriter, that she had not already been and left, her call having been intended to summon me more quickly down.
Leaving London, I thought; I hoped, I left my key behind. There’d have been no way to get it to my host if I hadn’t but now there was no way for me to get back into the flat if I didn’t leave the country as expected. I’d have to wander, sans lucre, for hours unknown.
Fortunately, my load remained tolerable and my pace was swift, as I’d left almost all my remaining clothing behind to lighten my burden.