As Harold walked towards her he laughed so openly she had to look away, unable to meet the fullness of his smile. She didn’t know whether to offer him her lips or her cheek, and at the last minute she changed her mind so that he kissed her nose instead and prickled her face with his beard. People were watching.

“Hello, Maureen.” His voice was deep and assured. She felt her knees weaken. “What brings you all the way to Darlington?”

“Oh,” she shrugged. “Rex and I fancied a drive.”

He looked round, his face beaming. “Goodness. Has he come too?”

“He’s gone to WH Smith’s. He needed paper clips. After that he was keen to visit the railway museum. You can see the Locomotion.”

He was standing right over her, gazing into her face and not looking away. It was like being under lights. “It’s a steam train,” she added, because he still didn’t seem to be doing anything, just smiling. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Despite the beard, his jaw had lost its rigid set. His lips looked soft.

An old fellow shouted into a megaphone to the crowd, “Shop all you can! This is the word of the Lord! Shopping is what gives our lives purpose! Jesus came on earth to shop!” He had no shoes.

It broke the ice. Harold and Maureen smiled, and she felt there was a conspiracy between them, as if they were the only people in the world who saw it right. “People.” She shook her head knowingly.

“It takes all sorts,” said Harold.

There was nothing condescending about his remark, nor was there anything reprimanding. It was more generous than anything else, as if the strangeness of other people was a marvellous thing, but it made her feel overwhelmingly parochial. She said, “Do you have time for a cuppa?” She never normally referred to a pot of Earl Grey as a cuppa. And fancy trying to make up for your plain Englishness by suggesting tea.

“I would love that, Maureen,” said Harold.

♦

They chose a coffee outlet on the ground floor of a department store because she said you could always trust the things you knew. The girl behind the counter stared as if she was trying to place him, and Maureen felt both proud and in the way. She had put on a pair of brand-new trainers at the last minute and they shone on the ends of her legs like beacons.

“So much choice,” said Harold, gazing at the muffins and cakes, each one in its own paper case. “Are you sure you don’t mind paying, Maureen?”