The underpass

On the map, the underpass was a short grey line connecting two streets. Ruby had passed its entrance many times on the bus without noticing where it led. Tonight the main crossing was closed for repairs, and a temporary sign directed pedestrians down the steps. She had been at a friend's house longer than she intended. Her phone showed twelve per cent battery. From the pavement she could see the far end of the passage, a small square of yellow light below the opposite road. She put the phone in her pocket and began to descend.

Beneath the traffic, the underpass held a different weather. Cold water crept down the tiled walls, gathering in black seams along the floor. The ceiling lights hummed behind wire cages; one blinked with the stubborn irregularity of a tired eye. Ruby's footsteps went ahead of her and came back altered, harder and more hurried. Painted letters swelled across the wall, their colours bruised by the yellow light. At the far end, a discarded bag stirred, settled, stirred again. The air smelled of wet stone and something faintly sweet that she could not name.

She kept to the centre of the path. The bag moved once more and she slowed, although she knew that a draught could reach this far. Above her, a heavy vehicle crossed the road. Its vibration passed through the roof, shaking a drop of water onto her sleeve. The far stairs remained visible. She counted the lights between herself and the exit, then lost count when the blinking one went dark. From behind came a sound like a coin rolling over tiles. She stopped before she had decided whether stopping would help.

A woman was coming down the steps with a bicycle. Something metal had fallen from its basket and rolled onto the floor. She leaned the bike against the wall and asked whether Ruby could see a small tin. Ruby pointed towards the drain. Together they retrieved it before it reached the water. It was full of sewing pins. The woman laughed at the bent lid and said she should have put it in her pocket. Her ordinary annoyance changed the scale of the noise. Ruby could hear the tin rattle now, small and exact.

They walked to the far end together. The woman had a repair shop on the next street and was taking a customer's coat home to finish. At the stairs she lifted the bicycle, and Ruby held its front wheel clear of the railing. Outside, traffic moved under the temporary lights. Ruby looked back at the square of darkness below the road. The map's grey line had contained more than she could have known from looking at it. She checked her phone. Nine per cent. There was enough to tell her father she would be home in ten minutes.

Read the second paragraph, from ‘Beneath the traffic’ to ‘could not name’. How does the writer use language to make the underpass seem unsettling? Support your analysis with evidence from this paragraph. You may consider words and phrases, language features and techniques, and sentence forms.