‘Yeah, I’ve got a dodgy hip. It comes and goes. I’m waiting for an operation. So, back to this pie, will you heat it up or have it cold? I like a cold pie, but you look a bit weak to stomach one.’

‘I’m okay with a cold pie, especially if it’s shortcrust pastry with a good crunch about it,’ I replied.

‘Yeah, that sounds nice, very nice indeed.’

There was a short silence. The dog had a drink from its bowl. Police sirens complained in the background.

‘Would you like me to fetch a pie for you while I’m there?’ I asked, mainly on account of the fact that she obviously did.

‘That would be great. Steak and kidney please. How long do you think you’ll be?’ she replied. It was the first time she had smiled at me and it felt good to receive it.

‘Ten minutes or so.’

‘That works for me. Would you do me a favour and take the dog with you? He could do with a walk.’

‘Yeah, of course, he seems a nice lad.’

‘Hold on, I’ll just get his lead.’

She shuffled into her flat, huffing and puffing from the effort. Once she was inside I glanced down at the mug she’d been drinking from. In it was either water or vodka. I suspected the latter. She emerged with the dog lead.

‘I’m Grace by the way.’

‘I’m Gary. Pleased to meet you.’

‘I’ve been watching you these past weeks. You seem a trustworthy type, not like the usual strays that move in here.’

I attached the lead to Lassoo’s collar and gave him a few pats and a stroke. He smelt of roast chestnuts with a hint of vinegar. Not entirely unpleasant, but you wouldn’t want to bottle it. I imagined, for a moment, that I was stroking his coat with a small Bible. It enriched the moment. As I got out of the lift and walked to the outside of the block, I heard Grace shouting down at me from the third floor:

‘Don’t tug at his lead. He’s a bit knackered, like me. Just let him go at his own pace. See you in ten minutes.’