‘If you could know the moment of your end, would you want to?’ the old man mused.

She thought about all the bad things that had ever happened to her. Would it have helped to know about them in advance?

‘No. No, I don’t think I would,’ she replied. ‘It would hang over me like a cloud.’

‘True.’ He nodded. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t get carried away, that I’d be strong, but it’s so hard. I’m so alone, you see. Almost everyone I’ve ever known is gone. She was my love. She still is. Just being here is so difficult.’

‘It’s OK. That’s normal. In the police we call it survivor’s guilt.’

The man bit his lip and cast around the room, as though something in the old books might support him in his grief. He found strength from somewhere.

‘You’re good and kind. You have a big heart,’ he said, and Harri almost broke down in tears. He was a soul in torment and he was trying to be nice to her. ‘We all face the same end. Whatever our road, we finish the journey pleading with the void. Begging for just one more moment. But there’s never enough time. The relentless turn of the seconds. The ticking clock. That is our enemy. I loved her so much.’

His eyes met Harri’s and they shimmered.

‘What would you give for just one more moment with someone who meant everything?’

Harri found herself wanting to take the old widower’s hand and soothe the pain, but he moved back a half-step and eyed her with the sudden alertness of someone waking from a dream.

‘Listen to me casting a shadow over your day. That’s not who I am. I’m a bringer of smiles. You know what my wife used to say? “You are my star. You light up the darkest day.” Don’t you think that’s beautiful?’

‘Very,’ Harri replied.

‘That’s what I should be doing; lighting up days, not darkening them. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.’

‘Not at all,’ she assured him.

‘I’ve wasted your time at the very least. It’s most selfish of me. Clinging to moments. Hoarding memories. I’m old. My day is done. Yours is ahead of you and I have no right to waste another second. It’s been my absolute pleasure. Thank you for your kindness. Goodbye.’

Harri couldn’t suppress a surprised smile when the old man abruptly pivoted around his walking stick and hurried past her. Within moments, he was clanking down the stairs.

She was about to head to the toilet when she noticed a book on the floor. It had been concealed by the man, and lay cover wide, spine broken, like a dead bird. Had he been looking at it when she’d startled him?

Happiness: A New Way of Life.

A woman smiled up from the cover. She looked annoyingly contented. Harri preferred thrillers and would never normally have been interested in such a book, but she was desperate, and if the smiling author, Isabella Tosetti, had just one useful nugget of advice, she’d take it. Harri picked up the book and checked the inner leaf. Fifty pence for a whole new way of life.