‘Yes, Happiness. It’s a sort of flat stone. Not too common, but then it’s not too rare either. Most of them come from this place on the North Face, so they get collected and everyone gets their weekly quota of Happiness.’

‘But why on earth do you call it Happiness?’

‘Well, it was Theo’s grandad who came up with the name, apparently. You know, of having something which people could use to barter through, only then he said that there would never be enough to satisfy everyone and if people were going to lie and cheat and kill themselves and each other to have something, it might as well be Happiness.’

Albert shook his head, trying to wrap his head around what he had just heard. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Happiness then. I don’t think Marcus is a guy who cares too much for … ah … Happiness.’

He paused, musing over how apt that sentence was, even out of context. A smile nearly forced its way on to his face. Then he remembered what he was talking about and why, and it vanished into the limitless, unhappy oblivion of things that might have been. He turned to look Colby in the eye. ‘Well? What do you think? Does he or does he not seem to be someone who’d care about making … um, accumulating Happiness?’

Colby looked back at him. ‘Not really,’ he said steadily.

‘Then you see what I mean?’

‘No, because maybe he wasn’t doing it for himself.’

‘What do you mean? He was distributing the stuff for free? You think that makes sense?’

Colby smiled bitterly. ‘You know, that’s exactly what I said. Except they had the answer to that too, and the kind of proof that made me realize I was being a fool. He’s heavily in debt, heavily.’

‘Debt? Did you say debt?’

‘Yes. He’s gambled it all away. I mean, he owes like ten years’ quota, and from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t even take a quota. I’m not surprised he took to doing this. I can’t think how anyone could ever pay back that much Happiness.’

‘Gambled? You did say gambled, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That doesn’t make sense either. None of this does. He doesn’t seem like a gambler. How do you know any of this anyway?’

‘Now you think you can tell a gambler from his face? And remember what I said about the proof? They have it, more than they’ll ever need, and a witness, too. A bookie they picked up, quite accidentally, early this morning, who runs an illegal betting pool. He’s the one who blew the lid on the whole thing.’

‘Maybe he’s lying.’