Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? Why was he so strongly attracted to her, when, as part-owner of a successful business and brimming with self-confidence, she embodied everything that, over the last few decades, he’d come to loathe in women? Where were the sweet, docile girls of his youth, who’d looked up to men? Gone, all gone! They’d joined the police, become army officers, vicars, doctors – all rightly men’s jobs – flaunting their authority with infuriating complacency. He’d fantasized endlessly about pricking their self-esteem, taking them down a peg or two, but it was only recently that he’d dared turn fantasy into fact. Surprisingly, the first few encounters were never reported – didn’t want to lose face, he supposed – and this encouraged him to go further. He chose his victims with care – women who’d been fêted in the press for some achievement, pictured with a self-satisfied smile – and half the excitement had been tracking them down. Where was that superiority when they were flat on their backs beneath him, like that stupid little cow from the train who’d spent the whole journey on her mobile, ensuring everyone knew how important she was?
