Excerpt from The Stranger on the Train by Abbie Taylor, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

She helped Emma to unload the tray.

"That was my husband," she said. "He's on his way."

Emma sat down thankfully and pulled Ritchie's buggy towards her.

"That young man's out for the count," Antonia said.

"He'll wake up soon." Emma peeled the wrapper off the chocolate bun. "He's due his dinner."

"I don't think he looks like he's interested in eating anything, do you?"

"He will soon," Emma said, more sharply than she'd intended.

Antonia didn't reply. She drew her cup of coffee towards her, picked up the tiny stainless-steel milk jug from the table and began to pour. Immediately, Emma regretted her tone. What on earth was wrong with her? Antonia was only trying to be nice.

In a politer voice, she asked: "Do you have children?"

The steel jug stopped pouring. Antonia held it in the air for a moment before she answered.

"Yes, we do," she said. "We have a little boy."

She tipped the jug again and went on pouring. Emma was surprised. For some reason, she'd have thought that if Antonia had children they'd be grown by now. Teenagers at least. Antonia looked much too groomed to be the mother of a young child. Maybe she had a nanny. Before she could ask her where the child was, Antonia put down the jug and nodded at Ritchie's pushchair.

She said: "I gather from what you mentioned about it just being the two of you that this little chap's father isn't around?"

"No," Emma said. "We split up before he was born."

"But your family helps out?"

"I don't have any family. My parents are dead."

"I see," said Antonia. "Alone in the world."

Emma stirred her coffee.

"Money must be tight, I imagine," Antonia said, eyeing Emma's bobbly woolen jumper and faded jeans. "How on earth do you cope?"

"We manage."

"But it isn't an ideal environment for a child, is it? No money, no family support. Hardly fair on him, I would have thought."

Emma felt uncomfortable. She really didn't want to discuss this any more. She went to undo the straps of Ritchie's pushchair. He stiffened at once and scrunched up his face. Emma knew she was forcing him out of sleep and he'd be cross, but she wanted to wake him, to have him back to herself.

"Shh," she soothed him, tugging on the straps. He pushed against them, tightening the buckle.

"Still tired," Antonia remarked. "Perhaps you should leave him."

"Rich, look." Abruptly, Emma turned to the table. "Do you want some bun?" She steadied her hands by breaking a piece off the muffin on her plate.

When she turned back, Antonia had Ritchie out of the pushchair and on her knee.

Emma didn't know what to say.

"You shouldn't let him eat sweets," Antonia said. Ritchie sat on her knee, rubbing his eyes. "Should she, little man?"

Emma's heart was hammering. She was thinking: I won't take the lift. We'll just go.

"Oh, look," Antonia said. "Your lip's started bleeding again."

Emma put her hand up to her mouth. Wetness on her lower lip. She took away her fingers and saw that the tips were red.

"Oh dear." Antonia's face creased with concern. "And I'm afraid I don't have any tissues left."

Emma jumped up to get a paper towel from the counter. But she couldn't see any. The man behind the counter had disappeared, presumably through a doorway beside the fridge hung with colored plastic strips.

"Hello?" Emma called to the plastic strips. "Hello?"

Antonia's voice: "You might find something down there."

Emma turned. Antonia was pointing at a gap between the counter and the wall. Through the gap, a narrow passage led to a brown door marked: "Toilets."

Excerpted from The Stranger on the Train by Abbie Taylor. Copyright © 2014 by Abbie Taylor. Excerpted by permission of Atria/Emily Bestler Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.