The report ended with a shot of the pinkish stones of the quay wall, where several council workers were removing placards that spelt out a slogan. One man worked from the beginning, the other man from the end, picking each letter up and sliding it into their van, so that all that was left was the message WEED WELCOMES HAR. Maureen snapped off the television, and paced the room.

“They’re sweeping him under the carpet,” she said. “They’re ashamed of putting their trust in him, and so now they have to make him out to be a fool. It’s shocking. He didn’t even ask for their attention in the first place.”

Rex pursed his mouth in thought. “At least people will leave him alone now. At least it’s just the walk and Harold.”

Maureen stared out at the sky. She could not speak.

25

Harold and the Dog

It had come as a relief to Harold to walk alone again. He and Dog took up their own rhythm, and there was no debating, no arguing. From Newcastle to Hexham, they had stopped when they were tired, and taken up when they were refreshed. They began to walk the dawns again, and sometimes the nights, and he was filled with renewed hope. He was happiest like this, watching the lights come on at the windows, and people going about their lives; unobserved, and yet tender for the strangeness of others. He was open once more to the thoughts and memories that played through his head. Maureen, Queenie and David were his companions. He felt whole again.

He thought of Maureen’s body against his in the early years of their marriage and the beautiful darkness between her legs. He pictured David staring out of his bedroom window so intently it was as if the outside world had robbed him of something. He remembered driving beside Queenie, while she sucked on mints and sang another song backwards.