“What will you do next, Harold? Will you go home?”

He shook his head, but it was a heavy gesture. “I’ll make the trip to Hexham and then I’ll head up from there towards Berwick. Not long now. What about you?”

“I’m going home. My ex has been in touch. He wants us to have another go at it.”

Harold’s eyes moistened in the morning light. “That’s good,” he said. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She wondered briefly if he was thinking of his wife.

From there, their arms took the opportunity to catch hold of the other’s body. Kate didn’t know if it was she who was holding on to Harold or the other way round. He was bone inside his pilgrim T-shirt. They remained in an odd half-embrace, a little off balance, until she broke free and wiped her cheeks.

“Please take care of yourself,” she said. “I know you are a good man and that seems to give you a way with people. But you look tired. You need to look after yourself, Harold.”

♦

He waited as Kate walked away. She turned several times to wave and he stayed in the same place, letting her go. He had walked too much with other people, and listened to their stories, and followed their routes. It would be a relief to listen again only to himself. All the same, as Kate grew smaller, he felt the wrench of losing her, and it was like a little piece of dying. She reached a break in the trees ahead and he was about to go, when she paused, as if she had lost her way or forgotten something. She began to walk back to him, very fast, almost running, and he felt a shiver of excitement because of all of them, even Wilf, it was Kate he had grown to love. But then she stopped again, and seemed to shake her head. He knew that for her sake he must keep standing and watching her go, a constant in the distance, until she had left him fully behind.

He threw a large wave, two hands beating at the air. She turned her back on him and met the line of trees.

He remained a long time, waiting in case she reappeared, but the air was still and did not bring her.

Harold removed the pilgrim T-shirt and retrieved his shirt and tie from his rucksack. They were screwed up, and very worn now, but it was like being himself again as he put them on. He wondered whether he should take it to Queenie as a further souvenir, but it didn’t feel right to carry something that had caused such dispute. Instead he slipped it in a bin when no one was looking. He found he was wearier than he had realized. It took Harold a further three days to reach Hexham.