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game of curling, using two steel buckets as stones and mops like the brushes. And while his unrealistic view of life lay at the bottom of many of his romantic problems, often landing him with a broken heart, at least when Alex was around life was never dull.
    Over the next year, their friendship grew with each Wednesday night meal. Alex cooked dishes he had collected during his ten years travelling the world and Harri listened to his stories as the scents of spices, meats, fish and fruit fragranced the flat above Wātea.
    ‘Pad Thai,’ he announced, one evening, as spicy cinnamon, chilli and allspice-infused steam filled Harri’s nostrils. ‘They cook this everywhere in Thailand – little street stalls serving this up on almost every street corner. I got the recipe from Kito, a Japanese lady who moved to Phuket twenty years before when she married a local man – she was the landlady in the hostel where I was staying. Her Thai mother-in-law had insisted that Kito master the dish before she gave her blessing to the marriage, “so I know my son won’t starve” – and Kito had cooked it ever since.’
    Meeting Alex was as refreshing as Welsh mountain air; his sense of humour, wry view of the world around him and intense interest in other people made him irresistible company. And as the weeks stretched to months, Harri found herself increasingly opening up to him – more than she had to Stella, Viv or even Auntie Rosemary. In turn, Alex’s trust in Harri grew – leading, eventually, to the subject of his not-so-wonderful love life one Tuesday evening when Harri received a text as she was about to go to bed.
    Hey H, are you still up? Fancy a chat? Al ;)
    Harri almost ignored it, the lure of her warm bed and favourite Venice book vying for her attention, but Alex had never contacted her so late before and that alone was enough to make her call him.
    He sounded tired when he answered, the spark gone from his voice. ‘Mate, I’m sorry for texting so late.’
    ‘Is everything OK, Al?’
    He gave a long sigh. ‘I’m fine, really. I just had my last date with Claudia – you know, the accountant I’ve been seeing for a couple of weeks?’
    ‘Oh, hon. What happened?’
    ‘Man, I don’t know. She just isn’t the woman I thought she was. Turns out the only reason she agreed to date me was because she wanted to make her ex jealous.’
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘And, apparently, the plan worked. Hence my final date. After all that I just needed to speak to someone normal, you know?’
    Harri laughed. ‘Oh, let me guess: the normal person didn’t answer their phone so you had to call me instead?’
    ‘Yeah, something like that. No, actually, I value your opinion.’
    Quite taken aback by this unexpected compliment, Harri took a few moments to respond. ‘Oh – right – er, thanks, Al.’
    The ice thus broken on the subject, discussions about Alex’s love life began to pepper their Wednesday night conversations. Harri didn’t mind, really – it was worth it for her armchair adventures traversing the globe.
    It was about this time that Alex took the brave step of tackling the thorny subject of Harri’s lack of travel.
    ‘OK,’ he said one Wednesday night as he passed a bowl of spicy, smoky Hungarian Goulash to Harri. ‘Imagine right now I could give you a plane ticket to anywhere in the world.’
    Harri tore a strip of still-warm walnut bread and dipped it in the paprika sauce. ‘Then you’d be a millionaire and I doubt we’d be eating dinner in a tiny flat above a coffee shop.’
    Alex pulled a face at her. ‘Seriously, think about it, H: if you could pack a bag right now and just go anywhere, where would you go?’
    ‘Well, it depends.’
    ‘Depends on what? Come on, H, you don’t need to plan an entire itinerary before you go. This is make-believe , OK?’
    Harri scooped up a spoonful of goulash and blew on it, feeling cornered. ‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to just pick somewhere, Al. It doesn’t work