Page 30 of The Meaning Of You

I grinned. “Extremely. Now, back to this first-edition collection of yours.”

He groaned.

“Is there money in old books?”

Madigan shook his head. “Not much. Historically important pieces are priceless, of course. Illuminated manuscripts, for instance, although very few of those are in private collections. Some one-off prints are worth a lot, certain Bibles, historicaldocuments, it really depends. The books I like to collect are small change compared to those.”

I leaned forward. “For instance?”

Madigan’s brows drew together. “One of my most valuable books, or should I say expensive rather than valuable, is a rare first edition ofThe Sphinxby Oscar Wilde. It’s one of only two hundred limited-edition copies and is illustrated with red and green inks by Charles Ricketts, with a bright gilt illustration on the cover. Other than a little soiling, it’s a surprisingly clean copy and it set me back six and a half thousand pounds.”

I blew a low whistle. “Pricey.”

“I also have a first-editionLive and Let Dieby Ian Flaming. It cost a little over five grand but was much less pristine. It sounds a lot of money, but it’s a chicken feed compared to similar artworks in other genres that can go for tens or hundreds of thousands, even millions. The collectable market is driven by demand, and old books just don’t have the glitz and glamour that other collectables do. Plus, with books, like other art, the value is often driven as much by the provenance as the item itself.”

“Who owned it and where it’s been?” I offered. “That kind of thing?”

Madigan nodded. “And sometimes the dustcovers are worth more than the books themselves because the illustrator happens to be highly sought after. A friend of mine has an Ian Fleming first-editionCasino Royale, complete with dust jacket. It was a library copy so it has a ton of wear, but because it has a signed insert by the author, my friend forked out twenty-eight thousand pounds to snare it.”

I blinked. “Wow, okay. That’s getting up there.” I took another look at the book in my hands. “I have to admit, this is pretty cool. Apart from Sherlock and Oscar, what other books take your fancy?”

Madigan shot me a boyish grin, clearly pleased at my interest. “I have pretty eclectic tastes. I like Yeats and Lord Byron. I have a soft spot for Agatha Christie, although I focus on the provenance for those. I have a Bram Stoker’sDracula, a few American Classics, and even Helen P Branson’s 1957Gay Bar.”

“Never heard of it,” I admitted.

He pulled a slow smile. “And you call yourself gay. Branson was a heterosexual divorced grandmother who ran a gay bar in 1950s Los Angeles at a time when it was illegal for homosexuals to gather. The book is her story of said bar, and the dust cover has an illustration of Helen as a mother hen protecting her chicks from patrolling police. It makes for fascinating reading.”

His enthusiasm was charming. “I’m sure.”

Madigan rolled his eyes. “I’ll lend it to you. But there’ll be a test at the end.”

I chuckled, my mood continuing to lift as Madigan talked animatedly about how he’d started collecting as a thirteen-year-old and how he’d worked weekends at his local library to fund his habit. It wasn’t hard to imagine a teenage Madigan sitting in his bedroom on a Saturday night, surrounded by stacks of old books, while all his mates went out partying. The image made me smile, and at some point, I lost track of the conversation in favour of simply watching Madigan talk, hands flying and eyes sparking with excitement.

Whether it was the smile on my face or the realisation I hadn’t said anything in a while, Madigan eventually slowed and a red flush crept up his throat. “I’m sorry.” He brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and then sat on those expressive hands. “Never ask a collector about their collection.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you chewed me out when we first met. Besides, it’s a welcome distraction.”

He offered a small smile and a look that said he wasn’t sure he believed me.

“Do all the books you buy need restoring?” I asked.

“Conserving,” he corrected, then winced when my eyebrow lifted. “In our industry we’re a bit pedantic about labels. I’m trained as a conservator. That’s my wheelhouse and what I’m known for. But I do a range of things, including conservation, restoration, and repair, depending on the goal and what the client wants.”

“I have zero idea about the difference between those.”

He gave a soft snort. “You and nearly everybody else. In a nutshell, restoration tries to return a book to its original condition, and conservation attempts to maintain it in its current condition while futureproofing it against further deterioration. It’s a more stringent process and is what most museum and historical libraries look for. The work I do is often a mix of both. A book can’t be conserved if it’s falling out of its spine, so some repair and restoration might be necessary to stabilise it. But with something like a family Bible, for instance, I might be asked to try and return it to its original state rather than preserve it as is.” He’d been worrying the hem of the T-shirt I’d given him, and I was struck by the sight of it on his body for the first time.

It looked... good. I blinked and cleared my throat. “I can see it’s a highly skilled job.”

He shrugged. “No more than a forensic accountant, I imagine.”

The conversation trailed away and we studied each other in silence across the coffee table. Less comfortable this time. Like the ground beneath us was suddenly less sure.

It was Madigan who broke first. “Let’s be honest, Nick. We both know that you don’t really want me here right now, and that’s perfectly understandable. You’ve indulged my concern,but it’s best I leave before I overstay my welcome. I just wanted to make sure you...” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Hadn’t lost the plot completely?” I offered with a smile.

His eyes widened. “No! I just—” He chuckled. “Yeah, okay, I wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost the plot completely, as you so eloquently put it. And you haven’t. Do you mind if I let Lizzie know that?”

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