He died when I was twelve, so my memories of him are pretty sketchy: mainly based around that faded photo in the hallway at Mum’s house. But I do remember his hearty laugh, his bright blue eyes and his kind, crumpled smile: three things the watch-seller also possesses. His wild face fuzz makes it hard to pinpoint any further similarities, though: Grandad Jack was always clean-shaven.

The old man stands up from the table. ‘Time to go,’ he says. ‘But don’t worry: I’ll see you again.’

Harv and I stand blinking on the doorstep of 15 Foster Road. It’s dark now, and the street lights are flickering on, sending our shadows stretching down the steps to the pavement.

‘So,’ Harv says, ‘whenever you’re ready to explain what the hell just happened, I’m all ears.’

I puff my cheeks out. ‘He’s, erm … he’s a theatre bloke. Immersive theatre. My editor at Thump is thinking about interviewing him for the mag, and he wanted me to go along and check him out first. So you were sort of our guinea pig. Hope you don’t mind.’

Harv scratches his nose as he takes this in. ‘Right. OK. Well, I wouldn’t bother with the interview. He was rubbish. It didn’t make any sense. You were quite good, though.’ He thumps me on the back. ‘You’ve definitely come a long way since Marek’s play.’

I laugh.

‘I was genuinely freaked out back there for a second,’ he adds. ‘You’re lucky I’ve just hooked up with the hottest girl on the planet, or else I’d be pretty pissed off with you right now.’

He can’t help grinning as he says it, and it breaks my heart. I look at him – my best mate – standing on the threshold of a relationship that’s going to snap him in two. That’s going to bend him out of shape and change him completely. And now I know there’s nothing I can do about it. I can warn him, but it won’t make one bit of difference. No matter what I tell him in this moment, things will turn out exactly the same.

‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ I say. ‘On the phone. What I said about Liv. I’m happy that you’re happy.’

He nods, and I carry on. ‘I just … Whatever’s going to happen will happen. But I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, man. I promise.’

I’m not quite sure why, but at that moment I pull him towards me into a tight hug. I feel his body tense up in my grip. But then he laughs and squeezes me back.

‘All right, cheers, man. Bit weird, but … cheers.’

We break out of the hug, and he points at the pub across the road. ‘So, what you saying, then? Pint?’