An anxious face appears at the door and lets me in. She takes me through a small kitchen, hazy with cigarette smoke, where a number of other concerned faces look at me expectantly. I nod briefly before I'm led upstairs to a small sparse bedroom where a lady in her late fifties has finally given in to lung cancer. Her lifeless body looks cruelly destroyed by the illness. Before I leave I stop in the kitchen and try to find some suitable words of comfort to offer the gathered relatives. As I am talking I notice a cigarette packet lying eerily on its own on the table. It shouts a grisly warning — SMOKING KILLS. I wonder what these grieving …