“He’s joking.” I snort. “Your face.”

Zeb sags. “You know?” he says to Charlie, and Charlie shrugs.

“The expensive artwork kind of gave the game away,” he says, smiling. “The last gift he got off a bloke was a voucher for a McDonalds breakfast.”

“Nice to know the bar is set low.”

“It’s buried so far beneath us the kangaroos will find it soon,” I say slightly mournfully.

Zeb looks at Charlie. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you properly,” he says, holding his hand out to shake, and we both stare as Charlie immediately backs up.

“Better not, mate,” he says. “I’ve got cat piss all over my hands.”

“Ugh,” I say, and Zeb blinks.

“How lovely,” he says faintly.

Charlie shakes his head crossly. “A customer brought her library books back today covered in it. Then she had the nerve to say she shouldn’t have to pay for them because they were still readable.”

“What did you say?” Zeb asks, staring fascinated at Charlie.

He shrugs. “I told her just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. I mean, I’m dateable, but it doesn’t automatically follow that Henry Cavill is going to take advantage of that.”

“Henry,” I say slightly longingly, and we both sigh before recalling ourselves. Zeb is watching us with a wry look on his face.

“So what happened?” he asks.

“She paid. But one of the volunteers then spent the whole afternoon trying to sponge the books clean so we could use them again.” He pauses and shrugs. “Council cuts,” he says to Zeb, who nods. “Anyway, to cut a long cat-pee-scented story short, she failed, but not until everyone smelt like an old lady’s front room.”

“Is that a euphemism?” I enquire, and Charlie winces.

“Fuck off. Don’t be disgusting.”

“The last librarian I saw was in The Mummy,” Zeb says. “That sliding ladder always fascinated me.”

“Trust me, I’d rather tackle Imhotep than old Mrs Saunders who keeps Tipp-Exing the swear words out in the large-print books.”

Zeb laughs and Charlie looks at both of us, his eyes bright with curiosity and a hefty dose of amusement. “So, you’re going out, then?”

“We are,” I say grandly. “I am planning our afternoon and evening entertainment.”

“Shit,” Charlie mutters. He smirks at Zeb. “It’s not too late to run. The last time he organised anything we ended up in Dover.”

“Was that bad?”

“It was, considering we were supposed to be in Edinburgh.”

Zeb laughs and smiles at me. It’s more, somehow. Still tinged with amusement but there’s something extra in that smile that makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll take the gamble,” he says softly.

Charlie grins. “Well, I’m off to remove the stunning fragrance of Moggy Number Five. Have a good time.”