Where did you get that hat?

I was looking out of my window yesterday, at the waves, grey and crashing, at people walking their dogs, huddled over against the wind their collars pulled up against the cold, when I noticed a figure walking up Southcliff a man of around 80, his white hair carefully trimmed, elegant in smart black suit impervious it seemed to either wind or cold. He stopped each person who passed, touching their arm to ask something, but each time the people shook their heads, as if embarrassed, pulled their coats around them tighter and quickly went on their way. He became increasingly anxious , as if an issue of utmost importance was being addressed. I watched for a while, and hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then I grabbed my coat and scarf. I walked near to where he was standing and he approached me quickly, his white hair framing what was a handsome face still, with eyes of ocean blue. He placed his hand on my arm and looked into my face, speaking softly but urgently. ‘I’m looking for my hat’ he said. ‘I’m sure I had it. Must have blown off. Have you seen it?’I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, I...' ‘It’s black’ he said, as if to jog my memory. ‘Felt, with a brim, not too wide. A bit worn you know, at the back, inside. I can’t understand where it’s gone.’ I apologised and feigned a quick look up and down the street. Then he thanked me sadly, and moved away, towards a young couple pushing a buggy. I took a few steps to follow him. Are you sure you had it?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes dear. Every day for 35 years I’ve worn that hat. My wife bought it for me when we first got married. That’s where I’ve been this morning you see, St Paul’s. We said out last goodbye today.’He turned to gaze across the bay, his eyes distant, as the waves washed away the present day. He smiled. ‘You’re not leaving this house without your hat Tommy, we don’t want you catching a cold do we’ she’d say, and then reach it down from the coat stand in the hall, she had to stand on her tip-toes she was such a tiny thing’. And I saw him as she must have, the 25 year old, newly married man still. He gave a chuckle‘Sometimes I’d forget on purpose, if we were dashing off, just to see if I could catch her out. But I never did.’ And his hand reached up to his head, as if remembering the touch of her fingertips. ‘Every day for 32 years. Then we’d walk along Southcliff together for our constitutional. Not so quick these last few months mind. That’s why today, of all days, I wanted to come here. I promised her that. Only I can’t seem to find my hat. ’ I thought for a moment. ‘You know come to think of it, I think I might have an idea where it is. Can you wait here a minute?’ I ran into the house. There on the coat stand inside the front door, was a trilby, left by one of the guests at Christmas, I knew the guest, and I knew he wouldn’t mind. ’ Is this it?’ I panted. He smiled and took it from me. ‘You found it!’ he said, fondly flicking a speck of dust off the brim. ‘I’d recognise her anywhere.’ He took the hat tenderly in his hand and walked towards the cliff edge. Then he held it aloft a brief moment before hurling it across the cliff, into the ocean. He turned. ‘I always hated that bugger.’ He said, then, sprightly as any 45 year old he jumped down, adjusted his tie and walked up the street. I think I noticed a bit of a swagger, but I couldn’t be sure.