THE NIGHT Watcher

Making the promise had been the right thing to do, but it was proving so hard to keep

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It’s dark but the light from a street lamp falls on the taxi driver’s face as he passes and he looks surprised to see me. No wonder. It isn’t every day you come across an elderly man walking the streets at 5am on a wintry Sunday morning.

Perhaps he’s reassured by the fact that I’m dressed warmly because he doesn’t stop to check I’m all right – and for that I’m glad. The story of why I’m here is long and private.

Fifty-four years, two months, and five days is quite a time to be married. Not having been blessed with children, Ellen and I were everything to each other, and when she passed away, I didn’t know who or what I was without her.

The doctors were honest when she entered the last stage of her life but this was a mixed blessing to me. It gave us time to say our goodbyes properly, but it also gave Ellen a chance to force me into making promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

‘Promise you’ll look after yourself, Jack,’ she said.

‘I will,’ I assured her, but Ellen wasn’t satisfied with vagueness. She wanted to tie me down to specifics.