Paule gets out at Lambeth North. "Hello, Paule!" someone cries and her heart sinks. She turns to see her friend Mary, looking like she just left the beautician's, with an artfully arranged scarf and a hairdo like Jackie O's.
"What you doing out this time of the morning?" Mary asks.
"Out early doing my birthday shopping," chuckles Paule.
"Have to do your own? What about that lazy man of yours?" Mary asks. They laugh sociably all the way to the lift, Paule on tenterhooks.
Mary asks "Your husband still in banking?" but doesn't wait for an answer. She talks instead about trouble with a noisy neighbour.
Paule is relieved. She and her husband came here 30 years ago to make something out of life. She doesn't want anyone to know she's gone back to cleaning.
It is not until they are outside, saying goodbye, that Paule suddenly thinks: what's Mary doing coming back at this hour?