A disciplinary file with her name is dated the 31st

Previously: Amelia Sanchís puts one passenger a night on the 803: each one knows where the next one lives. The 1998 list has a name crossed out.

Seven nights left. At 22:50, with the 803 still standing at platform two in Ribadeña, station master Casilda Trigo gave Olalla Berruezo the usual signal — two fingers and a jerk of the chin towards the office — and Olalla, conductor on the 803, pretended not to see her.

She had spent six days avoiding that office. On the 31st they lift the track between Ribadeña and Puente Alcor, and ever since the 3:14 call on Thursday Olalla had decided that what you do not ask does not get answered.

At 23:40 the 803 pulled out with its lights on and not a single passenger, the same as every night since the 19th.

At 00:11, at kilometre thirty-one point two, Fermín Aizpún, the driver who retires on the 31st, braked at the closed halt of Vallonga and opened door one without anyone asking him to.

Three got on. Amelia Sanchís, a retired schoolteacher from Ribadeña, in her navy coat, and behind her two women well into their seventies in the same maroon coat and different handbags.

"Trini Berrocal. Seamstress." "Elvira Berrocal. Seamstress too." "Both of us from the dam workers' store," said Trini. "Twelve years." "Eleven," said Elvira. "You started before me."

Olalla took them to row seven and stayed on her feet with the ticket punch in her hand, the only thing on that train still working exactly as written down.

"Ladies, this train does not carry passengers." "The teacher already warned us you say that every night," Trini answered, and pulled a thin card out of her bag. "Ribadeña to Puente Alcor, single, fourteenth of November 1998. Unpunched." "And mine," said Elvira. "I'm carrying hers." "Because you kept it." "Because you lose them."

Amelia sat down across the aisle and took out the envelope she writes on, already on its third side.

"Signatures forty-six and forty-seven," she said. "They're next to each other." "Forty-six is mine," said Elvira. "Forty-six is mine," said Trini.

Olalla unfolded the four stapled sheets on the little table and found page two. Line forty-six read Berrocal, T. Line forty-seven, Berrocal, E. She read it out loud and neither of them thanked her for it.

"The teacher wrote that by hand," said Elvira. "She must have got it wrong." "I did not get it wrong," said Amelia. "You signed at the door of the store, on a Thursday, and the one pushing the trolley signed first." "I was pushing the trolley," they both said.

Fermín eased off at Sotoclaro and picked up speed again without anyone getting off. Olalla checked the clock: thirty-five minutes to the call.

"So who's next?" she asked, and realised it was the first time in six nights that she had asked first. "Ovidio Zufiaurre," said Trini. "The one from the store room. He lives in Puente Alcor, above the chemist's, and he opens the door to nobody after nine." "He opens it to me," said Elvira. "You open yours to anybody." "Elvira, the young lady is writing this down."

Amelia wrote "Zufiaurre, Puente Alcor, above the chemist's" in the margin of the envelope. Olalla wrote it in hers too, no longer hiding it.

Just before Ermua del Río, Amelia came over and stood looking over her shoulder at page three, line sixty-one, the only crossed-out name of the eighty-seven.

"Not yet," she said. "I haven't asked you anything." "You were going to."

At 3:14 the company phone rang. Olalla let it ring to the end, counted the tones and there were eleven. At 3:52 the 803 came into Ribadeña empty again, with three unpunched 1998 tickets travelling in three handbags that were no longer on board, and Casilda Trigo was waiting on the platform with the office door open and the light on.

"Six days dodging me," said Casilda. "Congratulations." "Are you going to tell me what's coming to me?" "I'm going to show you."

Casilda swung the office screen round. It was an internal service email, three recipients, subject line in bold: "803 — line closure. Actions".

"Opening of disciplinary proceedings against agent Berruezo Berruezo, Olalla, conductor, for a serious offence: carriage of persons unconnected with the service on a run declared as running empty. Proposal: sixty days' suspension without pay and loss of her line roster."

"Sixty days," said Olalla. "Scroll down to the date."

At the bottom, in the box where internal emails put the day proceedings are opened, there was a two-figure number.

"It's dated the 31st," said Olalla. "Today is the 24th." "It's dated the 31st," said Casilda, "and Mardones wrote it on Tuesday at ten past eleven in the morning. It says so in the header."