It was hard to put my finger on how it felt, curled up on the sofa, Joan snuggled under a blanket, her head resting in the crook of my arm while Nesbit snoozed on my feet. Sam was sprawled sideways in the armchair, one leg dangling over an arm as the flickering screen lit up his face. Was it contentment? Too gentle perhaps for joy. And then I realised, as the doggy brothers made their way across the wilderness in search of their beloved owners.

This felt like I was home.

25

One of the reasons that I wanted to wait until Thursday before travelling to Chester was the inaugural meeting of the Wednesday Business Builders. Yasmin, Trev and Jaxx had booked a table at the library from twelve until two. They’d put a poster up on the library noticeboard, and Jaxx had gone all out on social media, promising a one-to-one networking opportunity with the man who’d introduced Nomato to the UK.

Irene had capped the numbers at ten, on the basis that any more would be disruptive (no one mentioned the twenty-plus children now squeezing in to hear the Library Lady every Friday afternoon).

While I had no intention of building a business, Yasmin had asked me to be around in case there were any questions about training or qualifications, and more importantly because I seemed to be able to keep Irene under control. I did point out that Jaxx was far better than me at handling the library manager, but he intended to be far too busy networking for that.

By twelve twenty, the Wednesday Business Builders had gone through the ground rules and the purpose of the group, asked if anyone had any specific topics they wanted to cover or ideas for guest speakers. None of this took very long, because the three business builders in attendance had all discussed it at length before starting the group.

They then briefly introduced themselves, and their new businesses. This again didn’t take long, especially as one of the three was still waiting for his burst of inspiration and quite happy working part-time as a pot-washer.

At twelve thirty, just as Yasmin had started working through the individual personality quirks of each of Mr Howard’s dogs, a woman arrived. Carrying a large rucksack, she was probably in her fifties, with grey hair and a dress that looked like a blanket bunched at the waist with a dressing-gown cord.

‘Is this the Business Builders group?’ she asked, after asking Irene where we were and receiving a cross between a sniff and a snort in return.

‘It is!’ Yasmin said, forcefully enough to sound slightly threatening. ‘Take a seat. Trev will make you a drink. Would you like a piece of flapjack? No charge!’

‘Um… I’ll just have water, thank you. And no flapjack. I’m a fruitarian.’

‘Excuse me please?’ Yasmin asked, blinking.

‘Does that mean you only eat fruit?’ Jaxx asked.