Emily looked at Lucky to see how he received the news about her father’s suicide. If it were news.

‘My God. Did he leave a note?’

‘No note,’ said Emily. The question landed oddly. No one had ever asked about the existence of a note that soon after learning of Asquith’s suicide. Emily wanted to tell him that she’d seen her father jump under the train; that the real shit of life was behind her questions, behind her need to know something more about Asquith. Then Lucky stopped on the footpath.

‘My friend, this is it—this is what I want to show you,’ Lucky said, pointing to the vacant shop in front of him. ‘It’s genuine deco. It’s got to be deco.’

The empty shop had two glass display windows on either side of the doorway. A blue-and-white for sale sign consumed one of the windows. The doors were old and heavy and wooden, with iron rail handles and glass panels frosted with a pendant design. Inside, the walls were bright white and there were black drop sheets on the floor.

Emily understood from her preparatory reading that Lucky’s had been a cosy and informal business culture, substantially different from the martial style of late-twentieth century franchising. Lucky’s, in its early days, comprised a network of family operations: the franchisees and their families, most of them migrants, lived in rooms attached to the cafe itself. While running a Lucky’s restaurant in the city or outer suburbs or country towns, it was typical for franchisees to save money for their own business, to use Lucky as a stepping stone. Emily imagined him keeping in touch with the progress of outlets through a stream of bank statements, phone calls, walk-in gossip, letters, card games. She doubted he ever wrote a single memo.

Emily asked: ‘This used to be one of your cafes?’

‘Not used to be. Going to be. This is where I am meant to start again. Bury me here. Under this entrance step!’

‘Where are you going to get the money?’

‘Still need a few things to go my way.’

‘You’re gambling again?’

‘Emily, tell me: how do I look, generally speaking? I hardly look in the mirror anymore. A glance is more than enough these days.’

Emily said: ‘You look … good.’

‘I have the body of an old man.’

‘But the innate force of someone half my age.’

‘Good enough to appear on television?’

‘Oh please, are you appearing on television?’