Taking back my journey

Exactly one month after the bombings , the Piccadilly line reopened. And I decided to take the journey I should have taken on 7/7. Once again I put on a new suit, because once again I had a big client meeting. This time I wore flat shoes, so I could run.

John came with me. I walked the same way to the tube, another bright sunny morning, but cold for the time of year. I bought a ticket and the Guardian. The station was not at all busy. Last time it was crowded. There were police, with a dog.

I walked up to a police officer and said that I wanted to say thank you, for protecting us. For being there.I said I was making the journey on the Piccadilly line for the first time since my train exploded. 'Don't worry,' she said. 'There's lots of us here'.

There are two ways to get onto the Piccadilly line, turn left or turn right, depending on whether you want the front or the back of the train. John started to go to the left to the back of the train. 'No', I said, 'I want to go this way'.
Iwanted to walk down to the train the same way that I did on 7/7. I wanted to take back the exact journey that I should have had four Thursdays ago. It felt very important.

So I got on at the first set of double doors. The carriage was almost empty. I sat down and stared at all the passengers - there were about 11 - and then I stared at the second set of double doors, about ten feet away. Where the Jamaican man with the rucksack had pushed on before to blow us all up.

We approached Kings Cross. John had to get off here. I kissed him goodbye.

As we left Kings Cross I remembered all of it. The bang, the smoke. I looked at the empty seats by the doors and thought of the people who should be filling them. I looked out of the window and saw sombre faced police. People got on and I looked at all of them. Nobody had a rucksack.

We made it to Russell Square. I did not have to walk down the tunnel covered in soot and blood and broken glass. I did not have to get off and make my way to the station entrance, leaving the dying, the screaming behind.

We got to Holburn and I was in tears. But I was still on the train and I was still making my journey.

We reached Covent Garden and I got off. I felt triumph and sadness. I looked over my shoulder at the people still on the train. My eyes were still full of tears, but they didn't fall

The triumphant feeling rose in me as the lift rose to the street level and I walked out into a sunny morning. I walked down Neal Street and stopped to buy a Big Issue.

'How are you?' asked the vendor. I looked him in the eyes and smiled.

'I'm all right, ' I said. 'I'm fine'.