‘I’m great,’ said Tanja. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch since you moved. We must catch up when I get back. I’m in Hamburg until Monday, then I’ll take you out to dinner, yeah?’

Norah grinned. She didn’t know anyone who spoke as fast as Tanja.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Cool. Have fun in Hamburg.’

‘Thanks, sweetie. Let’s be in touch on Monday, shall we?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Great! Speak to you then. Bye.’

Norah fought back her disappointment. That was Monday evening taken care of, but what about today? She put her phone down and switched on the TV. Red Breaking News banner, people running from an invisible threat—a terrorist attack in the UK. For a few minutes, Norah sat and watched the horror, zapping back and forth between news channels and occasionally checking Twitter. Then she turned off the TV and put her phone aside.

There was a gentle roaring in her ears. Out on the street, somebody slammed a car door; otherwise all was silent. But Norah could feel something swelling. She took a deep breath and tried Sandra again, then Max, then Paul. No answer. Norah went over to the window and looked out at the people hurrying across the square, then turned away again. The silence was buzzing.

She had to get out. It was no good sitting around in her flat, breathing spores of loneliness. They were clogging her lungs, making every breath heavier.

In the newsagent’s a few streets away, there was a strong smell of lily of the valley which Norah soon traced to the young woman at the till. She was sitting hunched over a book, but greeted Norah quietly when she entered the shop, and Norah recognised the woman the three old ladies had been discussing in the bistro the other day. What was her name again? Marie? Norah turned to the magazines and newspapers—it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have something to distract her when she got back to the empty flat. Just the thought of it made her heart sink. She let her gaze wander over the covers and front pages, and Trump’s face stared out at her from almost every one—he’d been sworn in only a few days before. A mixture of anger, despair and helplessness rose in her throat; she turned away and asked for a packet of Gauloises at the counter. From close up, Norah saw that the young woman’s face was slightly puffy as if she’d been crying, but she surprised Norah by giving her a big dimply smile as she handed her the cigarettes. Norah was about to leave, when the woman called out after her.

‘Wait!’

Norah turned and saw her get down off her stool and come round the counter.

‘Like one?’

She was holding out a bag of caramels. Norah looked at her in surprise.

‘No, thanks,’ she said, without thinking.

‘Sure? You look as if you could do with something sweet.’

She had a point. Norah smiled and reached into the bag, then popped a caramel out of its crackly gold wrapper and put it in her mouth. It tasted of childhood. ‘Thank you,’ she said.