‘Let me know when you get home safe,’ I say.

She holds her phone against the window as the taxi pulls away. As I turn in the direction of my house, Tom and his friends exit the bar in a haze of conversation and laughter. He notices me and pulls away from the group, telling them he’ll see them another time.

‘Do you fancy one more drink?’ he asks. ‘I’m not ready to go home.’

I know I shouldn’t as I’ve already drank way too much. In spite of this knowledge, my feet seem to be in charge and are already leading me back inside.

We grab a couple of the comfortable seats near the back. He orders the drinks and staggers back to the table with them. We clink our glasses and I take a small sip. He fills me in on some of the cases I’ve missed whilst I’ve been off, and I tell him about my operation and the aftermath of the attack. He’s good company.

When we finish our drinks, he stands up and slips his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans whilst I gather my bag from under the table and attempt to stand up, almost toppling over the chair in the process.

Tom grabs me round the waist to stop me falling and I feel my heart flutter. Our eyes meet and the moment seems to last a lifetime before he lowers his lips to meet mine; a glorious feeling that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

‘Shall I walk you home?’ he asks softly.

7

Another One Bites The Dust, the ring tone I have reserved for Liam, erupts from my phone and opens the gates of hell to my hangover. I pull my arm as quickly as I can from under the covers and try to grab the phone from my bedside table. I feel around in the darkness before realising that there is no bedside table.

The ringing of the phone stops but the ringing in my ears continues. I tentatively open one eye and confirm my suspicions; I’m not in my bedroom. This room is bathed in blue, cast from the standby light of a huge, wall mounted flat screen TV.

There are clothes strewn over the floor and an electric guitar leans against an oversized amplifier in the corner of the messy room. I fall back onto my pillow and squeeze my eyes tight, trying to reconstruct the past 12 hours. The introductory bassline from the Queen classic blasts from my phone again.

‘Can’t you shut that thing up?’ mumbles a sleepy voice from beside me.

‘Shhhh,’ I reply, moving the phone towards my ear. I greet the caller without looking at the screen.

‘I know it’s your day off and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the boss wants to see us both this morning,’ Liam says, his voice raised against the background noise of what I assume is the station.