Mrs Knox came over and kissed me and kissed Mother. Mother took off her gloves and flopped down in a chair in what they called the ‘nook’—a cosy space behind the counter where there was a fireplace and a mantelpiece and a decanter, as well as several small clean glasses turned upside down.

Mother gestured at the book display. ‘What’s all this, Edith?’ she said. ‘Are you going out of business?’ She poured herself a drink, and one each for Mrs and Mr Knox. She was not on the wagon, Ornella.

‘It’s a clearance, Veda,’ said Mr Knox. He plonked an armful of paperbacks down on the floor. ‘Making space for new stock.’

‘God help us!’ said Mother. ‘A clearance! Do you have any puzzle-books for sale, Barrington? I’d quite like a puzzle book.’

I had been fossicking around on the clearance table ever since we’d come in and, yes, I’d found a good puzzle book with cross-words and trivia and word searches, ‘crazy cartoons’ and ‘ridiculous riddles’. ‘Look, Mother!’ I said, holding it up. ‘Only 10 cents!’

‘Oh bloody hell! You’ve become a newsagency, Barrington!’

‘We got a shipment,’ said Mr Knox. He knocked his drink back. ‘Bulk purchase. Just got to get rid of it all, nice and quick. There are some goodies in there, aren’t there, Owen?’

I nodded. There were goodies, and I was putting a pile of them aside. I had the puzzlebook and one on worms and another on cave-people and one called Black Beauty that I had heard of before and which had very small print. ‘You’re going to need a credit account, Owen,’ Mrs Knox said.

‘God,’ said Mother again. ‘You’ll be selling ballpoint pens soon!’

‘Nothing wrong with a good Bic Crystal!’ said Mr Knox. He seemed chirpy and unworried, but I thought Mother was being rude.

It was five o’clock, closing time, but no one was bothering to lock the doors or swing the sign to ‘Closed’. Mrs Knox had swivelled her chair to face the empty fireplace. Mother passed Mr Knox another drink. He came over to appraise my book selection.

‘So,’ said Mother. ‘Another week goes by, chaps. Don’t suppose you’ve seen my husband by any chance? Hasn’t dropped in to check up on my movements?’

Mrs Knox wiped her mouth daintily with her index finger and took another sip. ‘No, no sign of Jo. But Rosa came in, didn’t she, Barrington? Came by with desserts, would you believe? Left over from lunchtime. She sat with us for quite a bit, didn’t she, Barrington?’

Mr Knox nodded.

‘Seems she’s got herself a new friend. Very nice for Rosa! Nice to see her looking after herself a little.’ Mrs Knox smiled and cocked her head and I could tell she was genuine in what she said. ‘Her friend’s an artist too.’

Mr Knox nodded. ‘Very good artist.’

‘Rosa’s forthright in her praise, isn’t she, Barrington? Barrington thinks she’s smitten with this Florence Oakey!’