To prove her point, with a blast of cold air from an open door, her nemesis arrived, his hooded eyes trailing around the exposed flesh with a piratical smile. Older than the others, battle scarred and aloof, Skully was Ink’s big brother, an intermittent member of the group, and the one Carly trusted least. So-called because of the bodysuit of skull tattoos going up to his chin – and because he was rumoured to have broken more skulls than Genghis Khan – he’d been in and out of prison all his adult life, some of it as cellmates with Ash’s long-errant dad, Nat. Skully and Ash’s close friendship worried Carly. There’d been recent rumours that they were fencing stolen goods, although Ash angrily denied it. Whatever secrets they shared, Sully had a hold over her husband she didn’t like.

‘Ohmygod! He so looks dangerous,’ Amelia gushed to a friend nearby, then let out a little squeak as Skully sauntered up to Carly and Ash.

An imperceptible nod passed between the men along with a muttered, ‘Brother.’ Then Skully bowed to Carly, flashing his gold teeth like a threat. ‘Dressed to kill, I see, Carlita.’

‘We can test that if you don’t call me Carly.’

He forced a laugh. ‘You’re lucky I like funny women.’

‘And you’re lucky I like boneheads.’ Carly reached across to grab a bin bag before he could reply. ‘Skully, love, have you met Flynn’s girlfriend, Amelia?’

Grinning, Ash went to fetch more beers while Amelia preened coyly and made introductions to a Sophie, a Chloe and a Figs. Skully looked delighted, especially when Flynn muscled up territorially. If there was one thing the tattooed maverick enjoyed more than winding up his mates’ wives, it was chatting up his mates’ girlfriends.

‘Go next door and ask her over,’ Flynn entreated Carly.

‘Why?’

‘Because, sweetlips, I think you’d really like her. You need a little friend of your own to stop you winding up Ash’s.’ He dropped his voice. ‘It doesn’t do to mess with Skully. He’ll mess right back atcha.’

Reluctantly shrugging on her coat, Carly found Ash returning from the kitchen, dipping his head beneath the ceiling beam, bottle necks threaded between his fingers.

‘Just running next door, okay?’

‘No shit.’ He glanced unenthusiastically at Skully who was now hypnotising Amelia and her giggly friends with his devil eyes and dirty talk. Ash diverted to join Hardcase who was holed up by the stereo choosing music.

Carly sometimes missed the wild energy of the soldier she’d married, but she was grateful he never sharked, however drunk he got. Ash was no flirt and hated small talk, although Carly still kept a jealous count of the tanned bench-press queens at his gym whose flat abs her husband watched with professional interest. A confirmed Jack the Lad before they’d married – and a little bit after that, if she was honest – his interest in other women rarely flicked beyond Tomb Raider and hardcore these days. At home, he could still be a randy sod, but war and fatherhood had changed him, and he lived too deep in his shell to share his mates’ brio.