Friday's tournament, table by table
Seventeen players, three tables and a single brass bell. Here is the Friday tournament as it unfolded, with names kept short and nothing but honour on the line.
Fridays begin with dinner and end with a name on the board. By half past six the sign-in sheet was full, and by seven the chairs in the felt room were taken. Noel Saunders called the draw, a hat went round, and the evening settled into its usual rhythm of low voices and shuffling cards.
The early levels
Twenty minutes a level, a bell between each. The first hour belonged to a retired shearer, who played every hand as though it were his last and was out before the break. He stayed to watch, tea in hand, and gave everyone a running commentary that was mostly kind.
The break
Fifteen minutes, scones with jam and cream, and a lot of arguing about the one hand everyone remembered. Lisa Rossi cleaned the felt while the players stretched, and Louise Georgiou refilled the teapots twice.
The final table
Six players moved under the brass lamp. A quiet agronomist and a young woman who had never played before found themselves heads-up, and the room did something it rarely does: it went entirely silent. The young woman won on the last card, which is exactly why you should always sit down.
The board
Her name went up in chalk, the room applauded, and she was asked to say a few words. She thanked the dealers, the kitchen and her grandmother. There was no money and no prize, and nobody looked as though they minded.
After the bell
The room emptied slowly. Players who had been eliminated an hour earlier stayed to see the end, and the winner was surrounded by people asking to see the hand she had won with. She showed them, laughed and put the cards back in the tray, where they belong. Lisa Rossi cleaned the felt and counted the chips in the quiet that followed.