Cassie had taken her seat at the back, Gobnit was under Darina’s chair, still glued to the iPhone, and the clock on the wall said seven p.m. Over in Resolve, Jack strolled to the back of the room and leaned against the range. Other than coping if someone knocked over a microphone, the technician’s job involved no more than establishing the Skype link in advance, shutting it down after the meeting, and clearing away the equipment. Ferdia was earning overtime as a council employee, but Hanna wondered if Jack had nothing better to do on what for him was an afternoon. He seemed neither bored nor interested as he lounged against the range with his long legs outstretched.
The meeting began with much discussion of the new layout in Resolve. Everyone admired the upholstery of Ashlee’s wingback armchair, and the provenance of a rosewood sofa was traced back three generations. Then a piano stool was recognised as having been carried through from the Lucky Charm bar. This provoked a brief run-through of popular songs of the seventies and a chorus of ‘I Will Survive’ sung by Ashlee, who turned out to be an alto. Hanna and Josie had learned by now not to attempt to control this initial chat, so they sat back, awaiting a suitable break in the conversation. Then, spotting her chance, Josie called for attention. ‘How about we settle down and take a look at this book?’
Hanna was about to pick up her cue when Darina clapped her hands. ‘But of course! I’ve been trying to grasp the significance of the range! It’s a metaphor, am I right? A literary reference?’ On both sides of the ocean people gaped. Standing up, Darina addressed the screen. ‘I mean, why put a range in a library? That was the question I asked myself. Because, as we all know, each little detail is part of a wider picture. And then I thought, Darina, you’re looking at a library of classic crime stories! And I had my answer! The range is a reference to The Franchise Affair!’
In the stunned silence that followed, Darina beamed at Hanna. ‘The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey, remember? It was huge. One of the top hundred crime novels of all time.’ She looked again at the group in Resolve, which was sitting in stunned silence. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? And what could be more fitting? Such a powerful story. No sleuth, no stolen necklace or missing will. Not even a corpse. Just a forensic deconstruction of the values of its time! So evocative of privation and monotony!’ Closing her eyes, she lowered her voice dramatically. ‘“We put the range on only on Mondays when the scrubbing is done.”’ The well-dressed couple in the best seats registered shocked disapproval. Hanna saw Josie glance at them in alarm.
Delighted with her theory, Darina opened her eyes. Seeing the looks on the faces on the screen, she leaned forward earnestly, her amber beads clunking against the head of a woman in front of her. ‘Honestly, it’s your courage I applaud. You could have chosen any kind of artwork. A collage of authors’ portraits, say, or a bust of Sherlock Holmes. But instead you went for this battered relic, this nuanced installation, which demands that we question the very term “Golden Age”. Is it right for us to indulge in books so essentially linked to class and social privilege? Are not the values they enshrine intrinsically corrupt?’
The well-dressed man raised his hand. Unable to think what else to do, Hanna smiled encouragingly at the camera. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, Mr . . . ?’
‘Brennan.’ The man rose to his feet and glared round the room. ‘And that battered relic, as you call it, was a gift to the club from its founder, Denis Brennan, to celebrate our ancestry and remind us of our roots.’
Darina turned scarlet and sat down abruptly. Hanna stifled a grin. It seemed so unfair that the first valid discussion point about the club’s chosen genre should emerge from one of Darina’s misapprehensions. But, with a librarian’s long experience of dealing with small-town sensibilities, she guessed that the faux-pas would produce more cheerful gossip than offence. The looks on faces such as the Canny twins’ showed that a set-down to Brennan pride wasn’t wholly unwelcome. It was evident, too, that old power struggles were waning, and that Erin and Jack’s generation had little or no memory of the Shamrock Club’s once all-powerful founder. In fact, she