‘Yes, I said Spain, George. You know, where the Spanish people live.’

‘And you’re going? You . . . to Spain?’

Elaine put down her knife and fork, balancing them on the side of her plate.

‘Just what’s that supposed to mean?’

George opened his mouth to answer but Elaine was in full flood by then.

‘I suppose you think of Spain as full of page three girls and blond Adonises? Well, let me tell you, George, the girls at work have a bloody good time there, mate. A bloody good time. And just for once in my life -’ she poked herself in the chest with her thumb - ‘I am going to join in with the real world. I am going to have fun. Have a laugh. I’m not too old to enjoy myself.

‘Let’s face it, if I waited for you to show me a good time, I’d be six feet under.’

George watched her face as she spoke. Her features were bunched like a screwed-up handkerchief and for one dreadful moment he imagined her topless on the beach.

Then he started to laugh. He laughed until the tears ran from his eyes and he had an attack of coughing. He laughed while Elaine slapped him on the back to stop him choking. Finally he was too weak to laugh any more and slowly his breathing returned to normal.

She was staring down at him, bewildered.

‘I am sorry, Elaine. Sorry for laughing. It’s just that you gave me a shock. I mean, you’ve never wanted to go before, have you? And now out of the blue . . . You go, Elaine. You go and enjoy yourself. I can just see you with a lovely tan. It will do you the world of good.’

She was nonplussed. She had a sneaking feeling that George was taking the piss.

He read her mind and spoke again.

‘I laughed because after all these years you can still surprise me.’

Elaine relaxed.

‘Shall I open a bottle of wine, dear? To celebrate?’

‘Yes, George. Do that. You do that.’

She sat back at the table and resumed her meal. She was too hard on George, that was the trouble. He was pleased that she was going off to enjoy herself. He didn’t begrudge her a little time away from him. She made up her mind to be more friendly, try and understand him a bit better. A short while later they clinked glasses.

‘To Spain, my dear.’

‘To Spain.’

They finished their meal in peace, and George left Elaine finishing the bottle of wine while he went for a walk.

George walked the streets for twenty minutes, his hands deep in his pockets and his head burrowed into the neck of his overcoat. He liked the winter months, liked the anonymity the dark nights created. He made his way to Motherwell Street and walked slowly along the lines of houses.