It’s Friday lunchtime. Dressed in a grey business suit, Paddy steps from a taxi into a mist of rain: breviary in one hand, umbrella in the other and water droplets gathering on his glasses. A crowd of pedestrians stream past. Paddy opens the umbrella, wipes his spectacles on his coat and tries to push the breviary into a coat pocket. It’s going to be a tight fit.
A boy on a skateboard clatters past, bumping Paddy’s elbow. The book falls from his hand into the gutter and lands just in front of the rear tyre of the taxi. Paddy tries to signal the driver but the vehicle’s already on its way, the wheel passing over the book and leaving a grimy tyre print.
Picking the book up will be a challenge. If only he’d brought his walking stick. Normally—with his hip the way it is—he would kneel. Bu
