Amy, he’d met at the choral society – where he sang badly, and had found himself standing behind her one evening making very little sound. He couldn’t sight-read, so he had to familiarise himself with the tunes. There were always a few sections he could sing, and he waited for those and usually enjoyed himself. It wasn’t the kind of choir that demanded perfection, which was why it had welcomed him. It was a sing-along choir, really.

People were cheerful, so he fitted in.

Amy had stood next to him in the refreshment room once, and they had found themselves talking. Monica he saw just twice a week, but Amy came along and within a short time he’d stopped pretending to himself that she was a romantic partner: that was Amy’s new role, and she did become a kind of lover. She was stick-thin and wiry. She ate so little, and with a fuzz of curly hair there was something of a Peter Pan about her, except when she wore dark glasses, which she often did because of a mild and gradual macular degeneration. Monica, on the other hand, was altogether heavier, steadier and slower, with a face that seemed forever tired.

She had worked in the annexe.

‘You know, I still believe in public service,’ she said. ‘Is that old-fashioned?’

‘Not at all,’ said Michael.

‘People need us, I hope.’

He was thinking, They don’t need me, because I’m not doing my job. I can’t do it, Monica.

She was more generous than he would ever be, but he had ended up using her. She was thorough, dependable and Christian, and helped out in a food-bank. She responded to appeals, and was positive that everyone could do something to make the world a better place. That was Elizabeth, too – but he liked to keep Elizabeth locked up tight in his memory, where she couldn’t be hurt or humiliated. His time with her had finished, long ago, and had been so rich and golden: the sun had blazed over them both, for a while. Elizabeth had ‘loved life’ – to use the phrase everyone reached for after a sudden death. She probably still loved life, since she hadn’t died.

He had lived with Elizabeth, briefly – or stayed with her. He had travelled with her, but as for getting to know her, really? Never – and did it matter now?

He shook his head, knowing that he could sit on the station all morning, thinking it through.