‘Can I buy tickets?’ asked Flynn.

On the reel flew: dum-da-da-da-da-da, dum-da-da-da-da-da, dum-da-da-da-da-da…

Carly felt her heartbeat match it, indignant and livid. ‘Take that back, Bridge, or we’ll tell Ash the real reason you’re mad at me, shall we?’

‘Tell me what?’ Ash glanced round.

‘Bridge?’ Carly demanded, not caring.

Bridge stared back wide-eyed, like a cat facing a vacuum cleaner nozzle. ‘Can you not take a fecking joke?’ she blasted. ‘I’m only ruminating on a bit of idle talk here, and you can’t deny the statistics or the fact that Pax has a hold over golden boy over there that my eyes tell me makes him very hot under the collar, and my eyes don’t lie.’ Talking as fast as the fiddle bow, she was refusing to back down on principle. ‘So don’t you drag me into your jealous imaginings about your husband – who, incidentally, only ever showed me kindness when he spent ages patching up my face without even demanding so much as a cup of coffee – and don’t you threaten me with anything, Carly Turner.’ Then, as unexpected as the Queen throwing a V-sign, Bridge welled up, turning quickly away to hide it.

‘WHO is UPSETTING my WIFE?’ demanded a hundred-decibel war cry behind them. Man-mountain Aleš towered over them all in a donkey jacket and woolly hat.

‘Carly, apparently.’ Flynn held up his hands and stepped back.

‘HOW?’ demanded Aleš, who only had two volume settings, loud and deafening.

‘Oi!’ Ash stormed forwards, all squared shoulders and clenched fists. ‘Don’t you raise your voice at my wife like that.’

‘Whoa,’ Carly tried to soothe him. ‘They’re my ears, bae.’

Aleš jerked up his chin dismissively at Ash and turned to his own wife, booming voice tender, ‘What is it that has upset you, kochanie?’

‘Already forgotten.’ Bridge mopped her eyes on her sleeve, glancing at Carly, repentant. They both knew their husbands would fight at the slightest provocation.

‘An incident involving Mr and Mrs Turner, I believe,’ Auriol prompted as kindly as she would the parents of two Year Threes snivelling in her office. ‘Something about coffee – or was it group sex?’

‘That’s bollocks,’ Bridge scoffed, then went pale as it occurred to her that she was addressing her new boss, commonly nicknamed Bollocks.

Thankfully, Auriol was too spellbound by the testosterone levels pumping between Ash and Aleš to notice.

‘What upset my wife?’ the Polish builder was demanding as he squared up to Ash. He was far taller and larger, but his body was soft, his eyes kind. It was like a brown bear goading a panther.

‘No idea.’ Ash pulled back his chin, head tipped, face insolent.

‘Start thinking fast.’

‘Or what?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Try me.’

‘You really want to find out?’

They were straight into action movie dialect, Carly realised, stepping in beside Bridge who was telling them to pack it in, or at least take it elsewhere.

‘There are kids here,’ Bridge hissed.

Luca was still reeling a wild accompaniment nearby, the crowd around him clapping in time, the handsome stand-in bodhran player thundering in time.