‘Don’t say it, please.’ I held up a hand. ‘She’s very pretty. The kind of girl you just want to take care of.’

‘Yeah, she’s pretty,’ he grinned. ‘She looks a bit like you actually.’

I groaned.

‘But I was going to say – odd. Kind of – spaced out. She looks like she’s – I don’t know. Almost nervous of you.’

‘Nervous? Of me?’ I was incredulous.

‘Like – in awe. Like you might turn round and bite her.’

‘You’re making it up.’

‘If you say so,’ he shrugged. ‘So why else are you having this crisis?’

‘I want to leave Double-decker, that’s the main thing. I’ve remembered that I hate it.’

‘Well, do it then. You know what I think.’

‘Yes, I do know, thanks.’ I took a big slug of my drink. The whisky fumes burnt the lining of my nose. ‘But it’s not that easy.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, what else would I do?’ I looked at him. I took a deep breath. ‘And also – it’s Charlie.’

‘What about him?’

‘He won’t let me go.’

Alex’s face closed down. ‘Fuck Charlie.’

‘I’d really rather not.’ I swirled my whisky round the glass. It was very golden under the ceiling light. I wasn’t sure I even liked whisky, but I seemed to be quite enjoying it now. ‘Although he did try it on with me the other night, I think.’

‘For Christ’s sake.’ Alex banged his own glass back on the table. ‘Just tell him where to go, Maggie, why don’t you?’

‘I can’t,’ I mumbled. ‘He’s kind of threatening me.’

‘With what?’

I looked at him very directly. ‘I imagine you know perfectly well what with, Alex.’ I couldn’t pretend I didn’t remember any more. The early-morning nightmares had become reality as my brain finally filled in the gaps. Relieved as I was to have not lost my memory for all time, the images of the night that precipitated my downfall were so unpleasant I’d rather not have recalled them at all.

Alex shifted slightly in his seat, gnawing his thumbnail in that oh-so-familiar gesture. ‘Because of –’

‘Because of the summer, yes.’

Alex looked away like the memory actually hurt him. In the corner by the fruit machine, two stallholders were arguing about the most lucrative kind of tourist. The taller one had wiry hair that looked like it had been neatly folded on top of his head.

‘And what’s Charlie going to do about it?’ Alex asked grimly. His eyes were slanted half-shut against the overhead light.

‘He’s angry. He says I let him down, and he says he’ll make sure I don’t work again. He’ll ruin my reputation.’ I picked at a cardboard beermat. ‘Whatever reputation that might be. I don’t think it’s a very good one any more, do you?’