Her housing estate is strangely laid out with long balconies on the upper floors. May has to walk through clusters of local children and teenagers to get to her front door. They are beginning to make fun of her.
She is already aware with gratitude that it is getting dark at 5 pm rather than 4.30. All the way home she is in a state, clutching her bag.
She feels unsafe even at Boots. A shop for violent perverts has opened nearby. You see horrible people all in black with rings. Some of them give her film to develop.
May is unable to concentrate at work. She gets terribly muddled with all those red envelopes. Yesterday a gentleman who had ordered two complete sets of 300 photos of his holiday in New Guinea found instead a range of other people's Christmas parties. May burst into tears. She now fears for her job.
Someone shouts nearby, men move suddenly. Unnoticed under the neat coat, May begins to shiver as if freezing cold. She cannot take this journey any more. She decides to quit her job.