Being with Scott was therefore incredibly refreshing. He was interested in my job, had no objection to the bears displayed round my bedroom, had come up with a few design ideas for my Ju-Sea Jem Bears – a miniature range of bears that I designed and made to complement Mum’s larger bears – and had even asked for a guided tour of the museum. Definitely a keeper!

‘Oh my God!’ I grabbed Karen’s arm, my pulse racing. ‘He’s got a pint! What’s he got a pint for? He knows my views on drinking and driving.’

‘He won’t be over the limit with one pint.’

I shook my head. ‘I know I’m overly sensitive about it because of Dad, but he usually indulges me and doesn’t touch a drop.’

Karen shrugged. ‘I’d say give him a break. He probably feels pretty crap for disrupting your plans and has a bit of a thirst.’

‘I know, but…’

She sighed. ‘If it bothers you that much, you could move in for a kiss and accidentally knock the drink out of his hand.’

‘Knowing my luck, I’d spill it down my dress.’

Drew appeared by my side. ‘Where’s Scott?’ he asked.

‘Why?’

‘So I can wrestle him to the ground in a show of manliness,’ he quipped. He laughed at my astonished expression. ‘Okay, I lied, although I’d like it to be noted that I’d definitely win if that happened.’

‘I’m sure you would. And the real reason you want Scott is…?’

‘He held my pint while I went for a dump. Enough information for you?’

I grimaced. ‘More than enough. He’s in the betting queue over there.’ I pointed towards Scott, then Drew set off down the steps to retrieve his drink.

Karen nudged me. ‘Things aren’t always what they seem, you know.’

‘I know. I feel really mean now.’

‘Then make it up to him.’ She winked at me then moved off to join in a conversation with Leah and Tiff.

Below us, Drew took the pint from Scott, laughed at something he said, then wandered along the line of betting kiosks, checking out their odds.

I made my way down the steps as Scott finished his transaction. He turned round, clutching his betting slip. ‘This one’s for you. £50 on Diamond Dancer in honour of our engagement and your new bear.’

‘£50? Oh my God, Scott. That’s a fortune!’

‘At odds of 9:1 our winnings will be a fortune! Don’t look so worried. I set myself a £50 budget for the whole day and I’m already £30 up. Do you fancy going closer to watch?’

Scott reached for my hand and, despite my panic at the money – I was clearly far too cautious with my £2 flutters here and there – I couldn’t help but feel infected by his enthusiasm.