“Sir…?”

George got to his feet. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Would you mind accompanying me…?”

George looked down and saw that he was still wearing the suit trousers with the fly undone. He buttoned it rapidly. “Of course.”

He walked back through the doors then made his way between the handbags and the perfumes toward the menswear department with the security guard at his shoulder. “I appear to have had some kind of turn.”

“You’ll have to discuss that with the manager, I’m afraid, sir.”

The black thoughts which had filled his mind only seconds before seemed to have occurred a very long time ago. True, he was a little unsure on his feet, the way you were after slicing your thumb with a chisel, for example, but he felt surprisingly good given the circumstances.

The manager of the menswear department was standing beside a rack of slippers with his hands crossed over his groin. “Thank you, John.”

The security guard gave him a deferential little nod, turned on his heels and walked away.

“Now, Mr…”

“Hall. George Hall. My apologies. I…”

“Perhaps we should have a word in my office,” said the manager.

A woman appeared carrying George’s trousers. “He left these in the changing room. His wallet’s in the pocket.”

George pressed on. “I think I had some kind of blackout. I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

How good it was to be talking to other people. Them saying something. Him saying something in return. The steady ticktock of conversation. He could have carried on like this all afternoon.

“Are you all right, sir?”

The woman cupped a hand beneath his elbow and he slid downward and sideways onto a chair which felt more solid, more comfortable and more supportive than he remembered any chair ever feeling.

Things became slightly vague for a few minutes.

Then a cup of tea was placed into his hands.

“Thank you.” He sipped. It was not good tea but it was hot, it was in a proper china mug and holding it was a comfort.