‘We’ll make some money tonight. I’ve set up a GoFundMe page.’

‘If I knew what that was, I’m sure I would be appropriately grateful,’ Gordon said. ‘But it’s drips going into the top of the bucket while I’ve got a massive hole in the bottom. Even Ben’s claiming he’s got some plan.’

‘Ben?’

A female throat cleared behind them.

Lou turned to see Jude Oxenford bearing a box overflowing with books. At fifty, this chick would have beaten Annie Lennox in an Annie Lennox lookalike contest. Lou liked her for her intelligence and insight, and because she genuinely cared for Ben. It was Lou who had first asked Gordon if he was ‘interested’ in Jude; they were always chatting. But no, he’d said, he wasn’t interested in that way, meaning she wasn’t interested in that way. Gordon talked with Jude because she had a brain, and because, both having grown up here, there was so much he didn’t need to explain. He was comfortable with her because he knew her inside-out. Poor Gordon, Lou thought with an inner smile as she caught Jude’s eye; some things were too close to his nose for him to see.

‘I forgot to tell you at the carnival, I’ve been keeping these aside for you,’ Jude told Gordon. ‘I didn’t know that upgrading your library was worth this much celebrating.’

‘It’s not the first time I’ve discovered I’m throwing a party after it’s started.’

‘Ah, the “organic” nature of social life.’ Jude gave Lou a complicit smile. ‘I remember it being like this.’

‘Organic, like fungus. It lies in wait for the right conditions and ingredients,’ Gordon said. ‘Lou organised it as a fundraiser, but as I was about to tell her, if we raise too many funds we’ll have council on our case insisting I make the house safe or some bullshit like that. You’ve met, haven’t you?’

‘Of course.’

Jude reached across the sink, gave Lou a pert smile, a strong handshake and a flash of perfectly-formed collarbone.

‘Why so many books?’ Gordon asked.

‘Oh, just cleaning out at home.’ Jude nodded towards the blackjack game. ‘Is this Old Bluebird? What you have solemnly vowed to preserve?’

Gordon gave the card players a weary smile. ‘I made my brother-in-law chief librarian but he seems to prefer croupier.’ He looked down at the box of books Jude was sliding onto the melamine table: Poe, Steinbeck, Melville, Hemingway, Bellow.

‘I hope you like them,’ she said. ‘Are you a reader, Lou?’

Lou finished Ron’s beer.

‘Carl will love these,’ Gordon said. ‘He’s taken it upon himself to hector our borrowers to stretch their minds, tells them that if you are what you read, their brains are pap. You should hear what Red Cap’s old lady has to say about that the minute his back’s turned.’