She ought to be exhausted but adrenaline, and perhaps hope, had given her a fizzing energy. She’d felt the jumpiness before, but this time it was different. Her night with Gabe had added a new and dangerous edge to her high spirits. Bring it on, she thought, bring anything on: I can deal with it all this morning.

She was bound to hit a wall, of course, probably sometime around three p.m., and be found dead to the world on a pile of reeking lobster pots behind the Institute, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

At one minute past seven, her mobile started ringing. She whipped it from her pocket, expecting it to be Gabe, demanding to know why she’d slunk off without waking him. She had no real answer beyond needing time and space to take in what had happened. Wow, what a night. The intensity of her feelings, physical and emotional, had scared her, even while she’d allowed herself to be swept along. The things they’d done – slow, tender, hot … – in Gabe’s ridiculous bed. She caught herself smiling until her jaw ached, her cheeks flushing. Wow. She closed her eyes. She wanted to do it all again right now.

She looked at the screen and saw it was Troy. ‘Hi there, my lover …’ she said cheerfully.

‘Sam. There’s a drain overflowing outside the Smuggler’s. We’re erecting a barrier and moving the hot sausage van away from the scene. Sam? Are you there.’

‘Thank you, Troy. Are you sure it’s, um … sanitary?’

‘Will be. Drains people are already on scene. Me too, while some were still in their beds.’

Or someone else’s, thought Sam, then wondered if Troy had spotted her creeping out of Clifftop House. She sincerely hoped not. She wasn’t ready to go public yet and if Troy knew, she may as well broadcast that she’d slept with Gabe over the festival tannoy. Even the idea of that sent her into a momentary spin of remembered pleasure and misgivings.

‘Thanks, Troy. We all appreciate all your hard work, and getting up at dawn to deal with crap – well, that’s going above and beyond the call of duty.’

‘No need to thank me,’ he said.

‘I know there’s no need,’ she laughed. ‘But I mean it all the same. Thanks for everything you and Evie have done.’

‘My, you’re in a good mood. What have you had for breakfast, maid?’

‘Veggie sausage and egg butty,’ she tossed back, knowing it was the treat she’d had before the sandwich that had made her feel she could take on the world. ‘See you later. I’m off to Festival HQ to open up.’