With a minute to go, there were five in the audience; the two women looking for Wimpy Kid, Matt, a man in his sixties who was staring at his phone, and a woman in her mid-fifties who sat, clutching a copy of Still Waters against her midriff.

Annabelle stood by the history section. There were maybe thirty books piled on the table in front of the chairs, so presumably Nicole had been expecting around that many guests, and that many book sales.

As it was she would get four, maximum, although since one woman already had it and the other two were here for Diary of a Wimpy Kid, it was more likely she would sell one, and that assumed the man was a potential customer, and not just someone looking for a way to pass half an hour in a warm room in the company of others.

She wanted to apologize, buy the thirty books herself, and run out of the bookshop.

Nicole walked over, a bottle of water in her hand. It was unlikely she’d make enough money to cover the cost of it.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Should we get started?’

‘Yes,’ Annabelle said, trying to put as much of a note of optimism in her voice as she could. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ She felt suddenly guilty at the way the words had come out. They had sounded negative and ungrateful and she did not want Nicole to think she was blaming her.

‘OK,’ Nicole said. ‘I’ll do an introduction and then hand it over to you.’

She walked to the table and clapped her hands together.

‘Welcome,’ she said. ‘And thank you for coming. I am delighted to have as our guest—’

There was a loud crashing noise from the door. Annabelle looked up. A man was standing at the entrance, a large pile of books at his feet.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I knocked into the table.’ He began to pick them up, but Nicole waved a hand.

‘Take a seat,’ she said. ‘We’re just getting started. I’ll deal with those later. It’s no problem.’

The man shuffled over and sat down. He was tall, mid-thirties, and balding. He walked with a stoop, as though trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

‘OK,’ Nicole said. ‘Like I was saying, I am delighted to have Annabelle Anderson as our guest. Annabelle is the author of Still Waters, which had been described as a “twisty tale of a relationship gone desperately wrong”. It is her debut novel, and no doubt the first of many. I read it and enjoyed it immensely. Ladies and gentlemen, Annabelle Anderson.’

There was a smattering of applause as Annabelle took the few steps to the table.