Coral’s had two ways in:
The front was where the litters and scamps of Great Town entered;
but the club hole door led to the club hole, predictably. And the club
hole was a hole in the back of the club where friends of Coral (and
choice foes) could hang back, bet, eat, drink, be seen, or get lost.
The whole space was not too large, and not too lit, merely a mealy
back room. Oro the guard was in charge of the threshold. He knew
when to throw the hole door open, who to throw open for, and when
to hold, to keep it closed. Normally, (oh) normally he knew. But Balkey
wasn’t meant to be in at that time, and the boy never went to the back
club hole. He hated the politics of the Pin and Coral and the no-town
knights fading in and out of the village. That’s what the club hole was
all about, tripping about in words, trying to secure a network promise.