‘No way,’ Holly snapped. ‘It’s one thing Arthur bringing them in for his dinner, but I don’t want to kill it unnecessarily if I can help it. Arthur’s curled up on my bed, asleep, of course.’

‘Shall I go and get him?’ Charlie asked, feeling at a bit of a loss.

‘No point,’ Holly sighed. ‘He’d just look at you like you’re mad. Bloody cats!’

Charlie dropped down to his knees and peered under the sofa. ‘Are you sure it’s under here? I can’t see any— Oh, Christ!’ Grabbing his ankle, he let out a yelp.

‘What is it?’ Holly dropped the dustpan and looked up to see Charlie, whose hands had suddenly moved up to the back of his right knee and were gripping on for dear life. ‘Have you got cramp?’

‘I think I’ve found your bloody mouse,’ Charlie spoke through gritted teeth.

Holly glanced down to Charlie’s knee, then she burst out laughing. ‘Are you serious?’ There, below the fabric of Charlie’s suit trousers, was a small, frantically wriggling ball, that was only being prevented from shooting further up Charlie’s trouser leg by his furiously gripping hands.

‘Can you stop laughing and help me?’ Charlie’s face was torn between abject terror and ticklish laughter.

Holly thought, for a moment, how funny but lovely that looked, before common sense returned.

‘You’ll have to drop your trousers,’ she said, choking back another gale of laughter. ‘And try not to let the thing get away when you do.’

‘Sod it getting away,’ Charlie howled, ‘I need it out of my trouser leg!’ With both hands still clutching either side of the mouse bulge down his leg, Charlie looked helplessly at Holly.

‘What?’ she said, still finding it extremely difficult to keep a straight face.

‘I can’t move my hands,’ Charlie said, his panic rising. ‘If I do, the bloody thing’s going to shoot straight upwards.’

‘And they’ve got seriously sharp teeth,’ Holly said. ‘I remember getting bitten by one when I was a kid. Drew blood and everything.’

‘That’s not helpful,’ Charlie winced.

‘Sorry,’ Holly smirked, realising exactly now why Charlie didn’t want the mouse travelling any further up his leg. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Well, isn’t it obvious?’

Suddenly, Holly twigged. If Charlie couldn’t move his hands, then there was only one thing to do; she’d have to undo his flies. And she had to do it while ignoring the urge to make any jokes about honourable members. ‘Are you serious?’ Laughter won again.

‘Just bloody well get on with it, will you,’ Charlie snapped, hands still firmly glued to his knee.

‘This is going to be a bit tricky from the position you’re in,’ Holly said, trying her hardest to keep a straight face.

‘Hurry up.’