Then I began to lose. It was hardly worth mentioning at first, but it soon mounted up. I should have known what to do. But I took it personally: I saw the losses as defeats, and I started talking to the machines. I spoke to them, beseeched them, begged and pleaded with them, yelled and screamed at them. I upped my stake and lost. I used a system and lost. I took risks and lost. I kept count as the odds went into reverse, slowly at first, then faster and faster. There were still good days, but they just made it worse, because they restored my faith. I kept playing and lost. I lost more than I would ever have thought possible.

Things would look up again. I knew I would win. I’d lost my way; I just needed to be a bit patient and I’d find it again. I started running up debts. I borrowed money from everyone I met. You’ll get it back, I told people. Just give me a little time and you’ll get it all back!

When they stopped believing me, I started stealing. Whenever an opportunity presented itself, I would slip a few coins or notes into my pocket, and one night I climbed into the town hall through a basement window and used my brush hook to break open the municipal coffers.

They didn’t catch me until I tried to sell the van. I’d registered it as stolen and hidden it under a tarpaulin at the back of the old greenhouse by the approach road. I wanted to offload it through a contact from the amusement arcade. The contact had a big mouth, the tarpaulin was carried away by the wind, and the story got out.

The town hall didn’t press charges; I think Regnier put in a word for me. But they threw me out. After I’d hung up my overalls in the locker, we shook hands. ‘All the best. I think it’s going to rain tomorrow,’ he said, scratching his head.

News got around. Kobielski wouldn’t even let me scrub the pavement any more. So I went back to slaving in the fields and stacking vegetable crates. And I went to the Golden Moon, like in the old days. The Lucky Deal stood in the corner. I thought it looked shabby, all scratched and worn. But it was ringing, beeping and flashing, and it was as if an old friend was there waiting for me.

I don’t know when exactly I lost Louise. I think our time was already up when I still thought things could carry on for ever as they were. But perhaps I didn’t even think that. In the morning I would often pretend to be asleep. I couldn’t wait for her to go out of the house and leave me in peace. Later, in front of the machine, I would hardly think of her. There were moments when her face seemed to appear on the screen, and I knew then that I still loved her. But as soon as the reels started spinning, it was gone.