Swan song.(Short story)

Sitting on the train to Eastbourne, looking at the seemingly interminable and unintelligible graffiti on the buildings beside the line, he wondered if it had really been a good idea, booking himself into this hotel for Christmas. He'd had an impulse, thinking he didn't want to be alone over the holiday, as both his neighbours were going to be away. He and Ethel had spent two summer holidays at the hotel and then one Christmas, five years ago, just before she became ill. A quiet, old-fashioned sort of place.

"Well, you've left it a bit late, sir, but you're in luck!" the receptionist had said when he telephoned. "We've just had a cancellation. Nice single room, ...