Will studies the picture in his lap. ‘How do you even do such a thing?’

‘Just an idea I had,’ Nain explains. ‘I spent a lot of time at the bottle bank! Carlsberg for the ginger fur, Harvey’s Bristol Cream for the sky. All great fun working it out.’

‘I love it,’ Will says. ‘It’s so good.’

‘Well, I’m glad you like it.’ She shrugs, uncomfortable with the praise. ‘The better our art, the longer we’ll live.’

Will looks up from his lap and feels a twinge of guilt that he didn’t make nearly as much fuss over anyone else’s presents: the white-label vinyl from Danny, the Levi’s and hiking boots from his mum, the pre-paid voucher from his dad for a course of ten driving lessons and the fuzzy dice – a jokey down-payment on his promise to buy Will a car when he passes his test, like he did for Danny.

‘Thanks, all of you,’ Will says. ‘Really kind. All of you.’

His mum and dad smile at each other and for once there seem to be no seeds of arguments waiting to sprout and ruin everything. As the plates are cleared away, Will enjoys a few precious minutes of the birthday he wanted.

But it doesn’t last. As his mum emerges with a cake and a tuneless chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ begins, a wave of sadness crashes down on Will.

Why can’t he enjoy this? Why does he have to be blindsided at this moment by the certainty that this’ll be the last birthday with all these people here?

No one suggests he make a wish. And he doesn’t, because he knows how it works.

Like everything in the universe: order to disorder; happiness to misery.

The game is on.

Burn, Baby, Burn

The debate over exactly how it happened will rumble along for years. It could be argued that the fag ends that were left to smoulder through the night, or, rather, the rough sleepers who discarded them, are to blame. Or perhaps fault lies with the member of staff who left the fire doors propped open in spite of the warning notices. But then she, like her two remaining colleagues, is no longer paid a salary; instead she’s merely a volunteer, imperfectly trained in health and safety. Perhaps the blame lies with whoever took all the money away and stopped maintaining the building years ago.

But all that matters right now, on this grey and gusty Saturday morning, is that the library is burning.