People began to fill the room. People in fine garb: tailored suits and long dressed that made a seductive sound when their wearers moved. If Elle had had some coloured pencils handy, she would have drawn them in the boldest colours that came to hand. But never mind. It lived for her anyway, in her head.

She filled the stage with instruments: a double bass, the fine wood shining warmly. A drum kit. A guitar. A trumpet. But where were the musicians? Oh, that must be them, gathered next to a table that seemed to be for refreshments. And on the stage she drew a woman, who seemed to be speaking to them all. She seemed to be acknowledging something, asking for something.

Elle went to bed without looking at her sketch, or thinking about it. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, her first in many days.

Penny clicked the ‘Buy It Now’ button and found herself the proud owner of a first edition Let It Be album. And it had really not been that expensive at all.

‘Not as bad as I originally thought,’ she said, as she grinned at Colin who sat next to her, his eyes on the screen. She pretended that she didn’t see him raise an eyebrow. ‘One down . . .’

‘And rather a lot to go,’ he finished. ‘Penny, you do realise that you were lucky with that one. You aren’t going to find them all so easily or indeed so cheaply.’

Penny wouldn’t exactly call a hundred and fifty euros ‘cheap’, but it wasn’t as if she had to access her entire savings nest-egg to pay for it. Just a little.

‘That’s not what I meant. It just seems like there is loads of old vinyl for sale online. I just need to take the time to find what I want.’

Colin had arrived down for dinner to find Penny in her mother’s office, deep in the middle of an internet search for the albums on her list. Realising that she was dangerously close to buying several that were definitely not first editions, and had other red flags, to boot, he had pulled her back from the edge of making some disastrous choices.

‘Yes, Penny, everyone sells their rubbish on eBay, it’s like one great car boot sale – but that doesn’t mean you have to buy it. Think about it this way; pretend these albums are first edition novels or say um . . . silk scarves,’ he said, casting a glance at the jaunty scarf she had around her neck. ‘Would you walk into any establishment and plop down good money on anything that had the markings of being mass-produced?’

She frowned. ‘No, of course not. I only buy hand-made. Most of mine come from The Wonder Room in town.’

‘Exactly. Or what about a pair of shoes that looked like someone had already worn them? That stink of foot cheese?’

Cringing, Penny shook her head. ‘Disgusting.’