When the bus finally released me into the town centre, the clock above the driver showed 10.18. My last train left at 10.27. The station was three streets away.
I told myself there was no problem. I had walked the route before, and the map on my phone displayed a neat blue line bending towards the station. Nine minutes. Three streets. Easy. I even stopped beneath a shop doorway to fasten my coat against the rain.
At the next corner, a pharmacy clock announced 10.21 in red digits. They did not blink; they stared. Around me, the town seemed to be shutting itself away. Metal shutters rattled down over windows. A café worker dragged chairs inside. The traffic lights changed for an empty road and held me there while seconds slipped past unheard.
I began to run. My bag struck my hip at every step, and my wet shoes slapped the pavement. I passed the bakery, the bank and the dark entrance to the market. Each building appeared to move slowly backwards while the station remained impossibly far ahead. When I looked again, the pharmacy clock had disappeared behind the rain, but its red numbers seemed to follow me.
My phone buzzed. One per cent. The map vanished, leaving a black screen in my hand. Was the station left at the library or straight on towards the bridge? I stopped. Turned. Listened. Somewhere beyond the buildings, a loudspeaker produced a stream of broken words. Platform. Service. Departing. I ran towards the voice.
The station entrance came into view at 10.25. The escalator was still, its metal steps rising like a wall. Up. Turn. Run. My breath scratched at my throat. A man carrying a suitcase moved into my path, and I twisted past him with an apology that sounded more like a gasp. Above the ticket barriers, the departure board changed. The line for my train flashed once.
On the platform, the train was waiting. Its windows glowed warmly against the wet darkness, and the people inside were already settling into their seats. I waved, although no one was looking. “Wait,” I said. Then louder: “Wait!” The warning tone began. The doors started to fold together. I was still three steps away.
How does the writer present the narrator’s increasing anxiety about missing the last train through choices of language and structure?
In your answer, consider:
Use brief quotations from across the passage to support your ideas.
143 exam-style questions on Edexcel A IGCSE English Language 1.1.2 Analysing linguistic and structural devices. Each one has a worked solution and a mark scheme showing where the marks go.