Time to pack. I said,

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Upstairs, I packed my holdall, nicked the bottle of Harley. Jeff smelled fine. I, however, needed all the assistance available. Put on my London leather. Creaked a bit, but I could call that character. Down to the bar, put out my hand to Jeff, said,

“It’s been fun.”

“Where are you going?”

The sentry raised his head, shouted,

“He’s going with the tinker.”

Jeff clipped him, said,

“Hey.”

Sweeper nodded, went outside. I said,

“I’ve got a house in Hidden Valley.”

“From yer man?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I’m going to look into a bit of trouble he’s had.”

“Jeez, Jack, I thought you packed in that business…after last time.”

“This is different.”

“Yea, you’re in even worse shape. Cathy! Jack is going.”

She came running.

“Aw, Jack.”

“I’ll be near, literally round the corner.”

“But I had a fillum.”

She pronounced it thus. When the English go native, they go bananas.

“What film?”

“Julien Donkey-Boy by Harmony Korine.”

I gave her my best blank look. She continued,

“It’s the Dogme #6 one. He made Gummo, remember?”

“Um, not offhand.”

“Jack, you have to see it. He takes the piss with Lars von Trier.”

Jeff was pissing himself behind the counter. Even the sentry was smiling. I decided to come clean, said,

“None of that makes the slightest sense to me.”

Crestfallen, she produced a small package. I could see “Zhivago Records” on the front. She said,

“This was to welcome you home.”

I opened the package, a CD titled “You Win Again” by Van Morrison and Linda Lewis. I mustered all my enthusiasm, muttered,

“Wow.”

Cheered now, she gushed,

“I knew you’d be happy. Remember before you went away, you gave me her album.”