‘I dunno.’ I told her what the guy in the station had said. She shook her head. ‘Ginger doesn’t know anyone here ’cept Captain Hook.’ She frowned. ‘Accident? Hospital? Are you sure the guy wasn’t winding you up?’

‘Pretty sure.’

She pulled a face. ‘Weird-o.’

I looked at her. ‘I’m worried, er – I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?’

‘Toya.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Well, it’s not really, but it’s what I like to be called.’

‘I’m worried, Toya. I’ve looked all over. I don’t know what to do.’

She shook her head. ‘There’s nothing you can do, Link. Guys like Ginger come and go, y’know? Move on. Maybe he found work.’

‘Hmm.’ I looked down, hacking at a muddy banana skin with the toe of my trainer. ‘If you see him, will you tell him I’ve been looking for him?’

She nodded. ‘Sure, if I see him, only don’t hang by your feet, okay?’

‘Thanks.’ I had enough dosh for two coffees and meant to offer her one, but she moved off without saying goodbye and I thought, that’s the secret. Don’t let anybody close. Don’t depend on anyone, ’cause they’ll only let you down. I turned away. From now on, I told myself, I’ll worry about me. Just me. It was a resolution I was to keep for about four minutes.

I went in the caff. The same one as before. I was trying not to look for Ginger, but looking anyway. There was one empty table. I got a coffee and sat down.

The New Me. That’s what I was thinking. I don’t need anyone. Solo and coping, right? Right.

I nursed the coffee. It was warm in here and raw outside so it paid to stay put. I was halfway down the mug when she walked in.

She was dossing, I could see that, but she was the best looking dosser I’d ever seen. I noticed her hair first. Chesnut, spilling from under her green knitted cap like fire. Here eyes were terrific, too – dark and wide and shining like she’d just had twelve hours’ kip. She had on a battered waxed jacket, torn muddy jeans and broken-down trainers, but she soared above her scruffiness – her looks and bearing sort of cancelled it out.

She didn’t look at anybody as she crossed the caff, but everybody looked at her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She got a Coke and turned, looking for somewhere to sit. Her eyes – those fantastic eyes – met mine for a second and I smiled. No chance, I told myself. Scruffy little git like you.

I was wrong. She came over. Every eye in the place followed her. She nodded at one of the three empty chairs. ‘Anyone sitting here?’ She sounded Scottish. I shook my head.