The man regarded Israel suspiciously. 'S'free country,' he said. He may well have been a touring Romany musician; he was certainly enjoying his vast, Grauballe pavlova.

'Thanks,' said Israel. 'It's busy, isn't it?'

'Aye,' said the man factually, and then proceeded to pretend that Israel was somewhere else entirely and not in fact squeezed up close by him, thigh to thigh and cheek by jowl. He was reading Bravo Two Zero by Andy McNab.

A woman, who was presumably Zelda herself, came hurrying out from behind a high counter at the rear of the café to serve Israel. She was in her seventies-at least-but she strode purposefully and not a little menacingly across the marble-look lino floor towards him. She was wearing a white polo-neck jumper under a nylon, unnecessarily tailored black trouser suit, was in full make-up, and her nail varnish was a vivid-one might almost say a ghastly-green. Her long hair was dyed black, but still somehow streaked with grey, and piled high on her head, like an old, erect beaver's tail, possibly stuffed, or fixed with some kind of glue-mount.

'Sir?' she said. 'What can we do you for? Cup of coffee?'

Israel had not had a proper cup of coffee since leaving London, and he was getting withdrawal symptoms. He wasn't sure whether he could face another cup of instant.

'Well…' he began.

'Sure, it wouldn't choke you,' said the woman. 'And what would you be having to eat with that?'

'Erm…'

'Big lad like you, you must be absolutely famished,' she said, patting Israel on the shoulder with affectionate distaste, much as if she were plumping a favourite dog-haired cushion. 'Tray bake? Pavlova? Black Forest gateau?'

'It's a little early in the day, actually, for me for, er, Black Forest gateau.'

'Each to their own. So, you're wanting something savoury? Today's specials are ham and eggs, ham and cheese omelette, baps, a fry we could do you…'

Israel glanced around and picked what seemed most popular. 'A scone?'

'Is that it?'

'Yes, thanks.'

'For your lunch?'

'Well, it's more just a-'

'Och, come on now. Big fella like yerself, you can't have just a scone. You have to have some soup or something with it.'

'Do I?'

'Of course you do.'

'Right. Well. Er. What's the soup?'

'Today? It's lentil.'

'Hard to whack,' murmured the man squeezed up cheek by jowl next to Israel, glancing up from his tea and his book.

'Is it?' Hard to whack? 'OK. I'll have a lentil soup, thanks.'

'And a cup of coffee.'

'Yes, thanks.'

'No problem. Espresso, macchiato, cappuccino, latte, or mochaccino?'

'Really? Gosh. Erm. Espresso?'

'We've not got espresso at the moment.'

'Right. Just a regular cup of coffee would be fine, then, thanks.'

'Filter coffee?'

'Yes.'

'Actually, the machine's not working.'

'OK.'

'Tea?'

'That'd be lovely.'

'Coming right up. You just relax there and soak up the atmosphere.'

Israel sat in silence and tried to soak up the atmosphere. Unfortunately, someone else seemed to have soaked it all up before him. Everyone in Zelda's looked as though they were between a trip to the Post Office and their lunch-time nap, having blown all their pension money on scones, and the only decoration in the place were giant plastic yuccas in giant plastic terracotta-style pots, and plastic vines trailing from the ceiling, and in a corner a large computer was perched on a table, with a printer, and a laminated sign haphazardly Blu-Tacked to the wall above it announcing INTERNET: £2 HALF HOUR. EUROS ACCEPTED.

Another waitress approached Israel. She was about the same age as the first woman, but shorter and fatter, and she resembled more what Israel believed an elderly lady should look like: she wore a tartan skirt and a brown cardigan. Her hair was permed and short, and uniformly grey. Her fingernails were not green.

'You getting, love?'

'Sorry?'

'You getting?'

'Er…'

'You're not from round here, pet, are ye?'

'No. I'm not.'

'Och,' she said, as if this were a terrible misfortune. 'I'm Minnie.'

'Pleased to meet you, Minnie,' said Israel. 'I'm Israel Armstrong.'

This announcement caused a considerable and audible indrawing of breath from Minnie, who now looked at Israel with great attention.

'Och! Really?' she said, peering at him intently. 'I thought it might be you. It is you then, is it?'

'Yes. It is. At least I think so.'

'Zelda!' called Minnie. 'Zelda! Come on here!' The lady in the suit with the green fingernails and the high hair came over to the table. 'Zelda. This is him.'

'Who?'

'The librarian.'

'Is it?' said the fingernail lady, disappointed. 'We've been expecting you.'

'You have?'

'Of course we have,' said Minnie. 'We all have. You've been all over the paper.'

'Have I?'

'Och, aye. You're over from London, aren't you?'

'Yes,' said Israel.

'Twelve GCSEs!' said Minnie, marvelling.

'I thought it was thirteen?' said Zelda.

'Well, it depends if you count General Studies,' said Minnie.

'No, you don't count that,' said Zelda.

'Hang on,' said Israel. 'How did you know that?'

'It was in the paper,' said Minnie. 'Now tell me this: d'you really no' have hobbies and interests apart from the reading? You must have some, eh, young fella like yourself?'

'What?'

'It was all in the paper.'

'What, my whole CV?'

'Yes. Of course,' said Minnie. 'People have the right to know about their new librarian. It's like public office. You were definitely the best candidate, wasn't he, Zelda?'

Zelda was looking Israel up and down in a manner that clearly indicated that she did not believe him to be the best at anything.

'Head an' shoulders,' continued Minnie.

'They published my CV in the local paper?' said Israel.

'Not just yours.'

'Don't flatter yourself, my dear,' said Zelda.

'Oh yes. They had all the seaviews in the paper. Sure they were gaunches, weren't they, Z, half of them?'

'Hmm,' said Zelda, in a tone that suggested that Israel, too, might have been a gaunch, which he might well have been: he had no idea what a gaunch was.

'Sure, it's been desperate here without you,' said Minnie. 'Since they shut the library.'

'Hmm,' added Zelda.

'Anyway, look, what happened to your eye, pet?'

'That? Oh. It was an-'

'And is that a wee bump on your head?'

'Fightin', eh,' said the old man next to Israel, not raising his head from his book.

'Sshh, Thompson,' said Minnie. 'We're talking here.'

'It's very busy today,' said Israel, changing the subject.

'Bunged, isn't it!' said Minnie. 'We're an Internet café as well you see, these days.' She nodded towards the computer in the corner, which no one was using. 'They love it. So, what can I get you?'

'Well. I've already-'

'I've got it,' said Zelda, hurrying away.

'Good,' said Minnie. Well, very nice to meet you.'

'Erm. Minnie?' said Israel, as she was about to go.

'Yes?'

'Minnie. I wonder if you could help me? I really need to get hold of a map.'

'A map?'

'Yes. Of the town.'

'Of here?'

'Yes. You've not got one, have you?'

'A map? Of here? What for?'

'For getting around.'

'Why? D'you not know where you are?'

'No. I'm not from round here, so it's difficult, you know, to find places. I keep getting lost.' It was the thought of Ballygullable.

'Oh, right.'

'And I need to start planning my route, for the mobile library.'

'Oh good. You all set to get her going then?'

'No. Not exactly. Not quite.'

'No? Och well, never mind.'

'So, a map? You don't have one, or know where I could get one?'

'Well, I don't think so. I can see if Zelda has one out back here.'