“I heard that,” Tomlinson said, nodding. “I heard he had a cough.”

Brenda arrived back, handed Tomlinson a brown paper bag. “Here you go, Mr Tomlinson. Your usual.”

“Much obliged, Brenda,” Tomlinson said, handing over the exact change. He tipped his hat to them both. “You have a good day now, ladies.”

They smiled at him and he walked out, and then they turned those smiles on each other.

“How you doing today, Jackie?” Brenda asked. “How’s that boy of yours?”

“He’s good,” Jackie said. “He had a cough, but it cleared up. You all set for Book Club tonight?”

“I am,” Brenda said. “What did you think of it?”

“A little racier than what I’m used to,” Jackie said. “Did you like it?”

“I thought it was fine. Racy, like you said.”

“Maybe too racy?”

“Probably too racy. What can I get for you?”

“Just a coffee, thanks. In one of those cardboard cups.”

“To go?”

“To go, yes. With cream and sugar.”

Brenda smiled as she busied herself at the coffee machine. “No fancy lattes or espressos for you.”

“No, thank you!” Jackie said, and both women laughed.

Amber didn’t know what the hell they had to laugh about, but she kept her mouth shut.

For the next few minutes, she sat there and watched the patrons and staff of Fast Danny’s interact with one another. They were unfailingly polite and bizarrely cheerful, and they walked around with bright smiles at the ready – smiles that vanished the moment they thought no one was watching them. But Amber was.

When her breakfast was ready, Brenda returned to her table, set the plate down. Along with her scrambled eggs, she had bacon, sausages and hash browns – all fully intact.

“Um,” said Amber, but Brenda was already walking away.

Amber looked back at her food, then tried to pick up her knife and fork. When she failed laughably at this, she did her best to catch Brenda’s eye, but Brenda was doing an admirable job of ignoring her. Exasperated, Amber looked around, accidentally making eye contact with an old man sitting alone. He wasn’t as old as Brett Tomlinson, but he was catching up fast. He gave her a little smile, glanced at her hands, and folded his newspaper. He stood and walked over.

“You need any help with that?” he asked.

Amber’s first instinct was to thank him for his offer and decline – but that wouldn’t get her food cut up.

“Thank you,” she said. “Yes, please.”

He nodded, hitched his pants and sat, then took her knife and fork and cut up the food.

“Thanks very much,” said Amber.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m Benjamin.”

“Amber.”

“What happened to your hands, Amber, if it’s not too personal a question?”

“I, uh, I caught them in a car door.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Say you did?”

She nodded. “Yep. Broke almost all my fingers.”