JANE IS ON THE TRAIN

Jane is on the train, Jane who John said fancied me. 'Why don't you ask her out?'
...John who I didn't phone twenty years ago when stuck in London needing a bed for the night but slept beneath a bench in Trafalgar Square...
...John, who I stayed with in Bristol, looked after when he sprained his ankle,
...John, who I played in a band with, drank Special Brew, did hot knives, walked around town on benefit in Thatcher's Britain laughing at Bob's joke, 'What's green and gets you pissed?'
...John, who Jane asked, 'How do you keep your sylph like figure?'
...and Jane is on the train, on her way back home, or visiting?
When I walk past her on my way off the train at Reading, will she recognise me? Not that I noticed, but she might already have remembered and turned away to avoid a knowing look, 'So what?'
So what? So if she still sees him I'd like her to tell John she saw me so he thinks of me one more time.