‘My dog.’ I gesture to the designer-bag horror video that’s still playing on my phone. ‘Speaking of which, I think I’d better go.’ And, grabbing my coat from over the back of the chair, I race out of the pub with a sense of relief and leave them both to it.

The Old Man

He’s not in the window.

Early the next morning I take Harry out for his usual walk. My head throbs and I spend most of the walk nursing my hangover. It’s not just the red wine making me wince. Last night Ajay texted to check I was home safely and everything was OK. I sent him a reply apologizing and thanking him for a lovely evening.

‘I’ll call you,’ I added. But I won’t. I enjoyed last night, but in the cold, sober light of day I know I’m not ready to start dating again. Even if it wasn’t a date. And Ajay was a nice guy. It’s not fair to waste his time. It’s best left as it was.

I glance over at the old man’s bungalow. As usual we’re passing it on our walk. I only spoke to him that once, but I still always look for him in the window. It’s become a habit now. But today I stop dead in my tracks. I feel a beat of worry.

There’s no one there.

‘Morning.’

A loud voice makes me jump and I turn to see a figure appearing from the garage. It’s the old man, only this time he’s properly dressed in a flannel shirt and old brown corduroys, worn smooth at the knees. A flat cap is perched firmly on his head.

‘Oh, hi.’

Caught staring, I don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Harry spots him and limps over, his long bushy tail circling wildly.

‘Someone’s pleased to see you,’ I say as the old man walks down his driveway towards us. I’m surprised by how relieved I feel to see him.

‘Hello, lad.’

Joining us on the pavement, he bends down to pat Harry, who rubs his body against the man’s legs, almost knocking him over. I’ve never seen him so excited.

‘Harry, be careful,’ I caution, but the old man bats away my concerns.

‘Oh, it be right,’ he says gruffly, but he seems genuinely pleased to see Harry.

‘We walk past your house every morning. I waved for weeks. You mustn’t have seen me.’

‘No, ’appen not.’ He gives a small shake of his head and continues to stroke Harry. ‘So how are you then, lad? Being a good boy?’

‘Not last night, he wasn’t.’ I smile ruefully. ‘He likes to chew things when I go out.’

Tickling him behind the ears, the old man tuts good-naturedly. ‘Now then, lad, you can’t be doing that.’

‘It’s not his fault. He doesn’t like being left alone. He gets separation anxiety.’

‘Aye, well, I know how that feels.’ He nods sympathetically as Harry gives him a gentle lick on his hand. ‘It can be tough being left on your own.’