Gemma grabbed the box and turned it around, pointing to a photograph of a tall, naked man running one hand through his dark hair while caressing his erect penis with the other.

“It’s a copy of his,” said Gemma delightedly. “They make plaster cast molds.”

“What a claim to fame,” said Annie.

Chapter 37

The four women sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks while they contemplated the large synthetic penis.

“You should name it,” said Sally after a while.

“Ooh,” said Gemma. “Yes, good idea. You could call it John, since you like John Browdie so much!”

Sally leaned forward with her pen and rested it first on one testicle, then the other while solemnly saying, “I hereby name thee John Synthetic Penis the First!”

The women cheered loudly and clinked glasses. Maeve excused herself and stepped out into the rain to use the small brick-built outhouse situated to the right of the café door. It wasn’t exactly ideal, having the toilet outside, but Annie didn’t want to begin any major renovations until she knew whether her gamble to reopen the café was going to pay off. The others were just beginning to discuss the suicide of Ralph Nickleby when the door burst open and a large man stood dripping in the doorway; his broad shoulders filled the entire frame. His face was covered by the hood of his coat pulled low, and his dark, wet outline glistened in the lamplight.

Gemma screamed and jumped out of her chair. Sally yelled “Oi!” and Annie made a loud surprised noise that was somewhere in between.

“Who the hell are you?” shouted Annie, trying her best to sound brave and threatening at the same time.

“I’ve got a gun!” Gemma screamed, forcing her hand into her cardigan pocket and pointing it at the man.

“Gemma, calm the fuck down!” said Sally. Then she turned to face the hooded man and said, with a calm that would cut through the angriest of drunks at her reception desk, “And who the fuck are you?”

The man pulled down his hood to reveal short, dark hair, graying at the temples, and a clean-shaven face with a dark shadow where tomorrow’s stubble would be.

“Never mind who I am,” he said, wiping the rain from his forehead with the back of his hand. “What the hell is this? Some kind of porn coven?”

“Are you from the council?” Annie asked, suddenly remembering the no-show from the environmental health man. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she hastened to add, waving her arm to encompass the candles and wine and the dick standing to attention on the table.