Half an hour later I was contemplating a spin round the dance floor with Bel when I looked up to see Seb grinning at me from the bar. My tummy went all funny as I realised how pleased I was to see him, and how relieved I was to be pleased. He waved and mimed a drink and I waved my glass back.

‘There’s Seb.’ Bel poked me in the ribs. ‘He’s very hot, isn’t he?’

‘Do you think so?’ I said nonchalantly.

‘Why – don’t you?’ she teased. ‘Nothing like Alex.’ She caught my eye. ‘Sorry, sorry. Forget I said that.’

‘I will. I do quite like him.’

‘I’m glad.’ Bel hugged me impulsively. ‘God, I’m so pleased you’re finally getting over that idiot. Promise me you won’t go there again.’

‘I won’t.’ I smiled foolishly until I registered her words. I yelled over Blondie, ‘Sorry, what do you mean “getting” over him?’ Then I stumbled slightly as someone pirouetted past me. ‘Whoops. Sorry.’

‘Honestly, Mag,’ Bel looked all serious suddenly, ‘I think you ought to take it a bit easy now. Especially now I’m not going to be around to keep an eye on you.’

My head was starting to spin now. ‘Explain “easy”, can you?’

But Johnno’s mates from work struck up a chorus of ‘For they are jolly good fellows’ and everyone joined in, and cheered a lot, and then Bel got all tearful as Nigel presented her and Johnno with a brand-new digital camera that we’d all chipped in for – ‘so you can email us on your great travels’ – and then Bel started on about how Sydney really wasn’t that far away, and her poor mother burst into the tears that had been brewing all night long. And I felt myself get quite teary too; God knew what I was going to do without the girl I’d shared everything with since we’d learned hospital corners at Brownies. (Bel’s were terrible, mine immaculate.)

And then Seb was behind me, his arms around me, and I felt the heavy cosh of alcohol strike me round the head, clutch me in its velvet hold. I leaned into his body with sudden exhaustion. ‘You called the police yesterday, didn’t you?’ I mumbled.

‘Yes,’ he murmured back. ‘Someone’s got to keep an eye on you, babe.’

And the thought made me want to cry. ‘Take me home, Seb, please,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘Would you mind?’

‘I’d be honoured, Maggie. Do you want to say goodbye first?’

‘I’ve got to take them to the airport tomorrow. I can’t face another farewell now.’

And so he drove me home in his sleek car, and as we travelled across Blackfriars Bridge, the OXO tower looking like a neon rocket about to blast off into the electric fug that hid London, I had a brilliant thought.