But Joe didn’t do it just for the money. He loved getting in his van every morning, being out there on the road; loved serving his regular customers who, like Lynn at the hospital, very soon became his friends. One of his favourite pitches had been the Fairlawns Nursing Home itself. His visits proved to be the highlight of the day for the old people. Every time he came to see Marion, several of them would come out and buy one of his potatoes. Then he’d go up and sit with Marion for a while afterwards before going home to his barge.

The barge had been a complete wreck when he’d bought it, rotting and rusting away and quite unable to move from its mooring. Joe had renovated it throughout and rebuilt the engine. And now, at long last, it was finished.

“There it is, Paddywack,” he said proudly. “Your new home. What d’you think? I’ve called her The Lady Marion – seemed the right name. I started up the engine for the first time last week, and it works too, works a treat. Soon as I’ve done what I’ve got to do, done what I promised her, I’m going to move the potato oven from the van into the barge. We’ll sell the Tattyvan, and then off we go, free as the birds. That’s how we’re going to live. We’re going to chunter about all over the country, up and down the canals, tie up whenever we feel like it, wherever we want, and sell our potatoes to keep the pennies coming in. We won’t get rich, but we’ll do all right. I’ve worked it all out.” He bent down and stroked Paddywack. “Till an hour or two ago I was going to do this alone. Some things just happen along. You just happened along, and I’m very glad you did. Come on board, old son, and I’ll show you round.”

Paddywack soon curled up on the chair by the wood-burning stove and looked about him. The welcome smell of cooking was filling the barge. He lifted his nose and savoured it. “It’s bacon,” said Joe, laughing. “I hope you like it, because I eat an awful lot of it. You can have some of my rinds too. I’ve made them nice and crispy. It’s going to be a very long day tomorrow. From now on until it’s over, every day’s going to be very busy, and very long too, and the nights even longer still, I expect. You’ll be wondering what I’m going on about, won’t you. Since you’ll be with me, I reckon you’ve got a perfect right to know. Come and get your bacon first. I’ve got digestive biscuits too. It’s what I live on, bacon butties and brown sauce and digestive biscuits. But no potatoes. Never touch baked potatoes. Now there’s a secret never to be told. Mr Tattyman hates his baked potatoes!”

Joe told him then all there was to tell about the promise he’d made to Marion. It had been one of the very last times Marion had recognised him. Joe was reading aloud to her, Gone with the Wind, her favourite book, when she interrupted, looking him straight in the eye. “Don’t you let them do it, Joe,” she whispered. “Promise you won’t let them do it. Promise.”