‘We had a girl in our class at drama school whose father worked in a circus. We thought it was the most exciting thing in the world.’

‘Which circus was that?’

‘Oh heavens, I’ve no idea, I’m talking more than thirty years ago. And she – what happened now? – I think he disappeared or she lost touch with him or something. But I remember she made him sound so glamorous, we were all so envious. My father was a butcher in Falkirk, which couldn’t compete at all!’

The old man nodded. ‘And it’s all true in a way, it was a wonderful world, the circus, for someone like me anyway. It was like having a family. Occasionally I came back here, tried to make a go of things, tiny parts in TV when it started, tatty tours – that sort of thing. But I always found I missed the circus, went back again. They always took me back.’ He paused to blow his nose. Harry saw his watery eyes and the red veins on his cheeks, but he also saw the fine high cheekbones and the full head of white, white hair.

‘But when I was too old, well – then I had to come back for good.’ And he sighed very deeply. ‘You can’t be old in foreign countries.’ Laboriously he put his handkerchief back in his pocket.

‘But I miss the life – the circus was my family I suppose – well that’s what theatre is isn’t it? Like the circus, all that working together, all that packing up together and travelling late at night together after the audience is gone, all the cases and the scenery piled up on the station platforms at midnight, do you still do that young man, last train to Edinburgh via York, that sort of thing?’

Via York.

But the old man was sitting back in his chair and his eyes were closed.

Harry said carefully, ‘You must be talking about a very long time ago. I don’t think British Rail runs trains that late any more, people are always rushing about in cars, someone else does the scenery these days.’

The old man nodded slowly. ‘I expect it’s all very different now,’ he said.

Harry glanced at his watch. His turn with Michael tonight. It was almost six o’clock, birds were coming to settle and squabble in the trees around the garden.

Almost reluctantly he stood up. ‘I have to go,’ he said, ‘but it’s been good to talk to you Roger. Perhaps we’ll meet again.’