AFTER HE DIDN’T reply, she glanced around the room and noticed something she hadn’t noticed before: a small stereo system, exactly the kind of thing that a well-meaning but otherwise utterly clueless auntie would buy you for your fourteenth birthday. She had the exact same make and model, but it was in the attic at her mum’s house. Next to Cormac’s, however, was a line of CDs. Nothing as cool as vinyl, she thought, picturing her London hipster mates with their vintage record players and independent record shop habit. Who still bought CDs? She leafed through them. Runrig, Orange Juice, Deacon Blue, Biffy Clyro, Del Amitri, Belle & Sebastian. Then she pulled out one with a picture of two identical men wearing glasses and playing the guitar. Ah, she thought.

Can I play some of your music? she typed, trying to placate him.

It’s a bit “twiddly-dee” for you, came back.

She had offended him! Oh no! Boys and their music. She would hardly be offended if he didn’t like hers, e.g., her mum’s calypso music (this was a total lie; she would have been completely offended).

Maybe I’ll give it a shot, she said.

Don’t put yourself out, came back.

Lissa smiled. For a moment she found herself thinking maybe she could tease him later when she saw him . . . And then she remembered that he was in London and she was here and this was a professional work placement, and she rolled her eyes and went to look at her very limited wardrobe and do her best.

JAKE WAS INCREDIBLY pleased Lissa was coming out with him, even if it did mean bad haircuts for the rest of his life. And Cormac was good enough, listening to Jake’s boasting, not to mention that he had had a little something to do with it. And he didn’t tell Jake, or even himself, how much, in fact, he maybe would have liked to have been there too.

Tentatively, Lissa texted Zoe. It was really awkward, trying to make a new friend. She felt like she was fourteen and asking out a boy, and more or less expected not to hear from her. Instead Zoe immediately texted her back and said why didn’t she come and get dressed up at the house. Ramsay could drive them there, seeing as he wasn’t going, for the male-female ratio was already hopelessly skewed, which meant he wouldn’t get five minutes with his girlfriend without her being asked to dance all the time. Plus, he had a deep and abiding horror of having to stand around in front of everyone from the village, who would undoubtedly have much to gossip either to or about him.