Carly observed the farrier head-banging and air-guitaring, back-to-back with Hardcase, to ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’. ‘Hilarious,’ she said flatly.

‘Need some fresh air.’ Bridge wiped her sweaty face and tightened her ponytail, heading outside, waving at her to follow.

Another hard frost was crystallising, their breath dragon puffs.

‘The magic’s already working, Carly.’ Bridge pulled a familiar-looking roll-up from beneath a bra strap, her sardonic Irish voice laced with mirth. ‘You’re my lucky charm, I can feel it.’

‘You don’t say?’ Carly wondered again where Ash was. She quashed a fleeting worry that he was helping Skully strip the newly laid lead off the pub’s skittle alley. There’d been a lot of bother over Christmas when the church ceiling collapsed at Midnight Mass, its roof lead taken, the finger of blame pointing towards the Orchard Estate. But Ash was no petty thief.

‘I’m rethinking my whole outlook.’ Bridge was jogging from foot to foot to stay warm. ‘You see, I’m usually an all-or-nothing woman. That’s been my weakness. But, this time, I figure the orgasmic rainbow owes me. I don’t want to overcommit; it’s got to be local, low-key and no strings.’

‘We’re talking about a job here, yeah?’

‘Flexible hours!’ She felt in her pockets for a light. ‘That’s what I need. Something I can fit around the kids, like you do, build up speed, plan my empire, earn myself some fun.’

Carly wasn’t sure juggling three insecure jobs could be called fun, but if being a lucky charm worked, that was cool by her.

‘I heard there’s a job going at the village school,’ Bridge was saying. ‘Office admin. Term-time mornings.’

‘Ellis loves that little school.’ All the Range Rover mummies she’d heard gossiping about closure rumours at the Nativity play must be wrong if they were recruiting, she realised with relief. ‘Sounds good.’

‘You think so?’ Not waiting for an answer, Bridge went to cadge a light off a nearby clutch of smokers.

Carly hugged herself for warmth. Then she felt another set of arms reach around her from behind, familiar hard-muscle guns.

‘Happy New Year, angel,’ Ash breathed in her ear.

‘And you, bae.’ Heart lifting, she tilted her face up to kiss him, loving the demanding warmth of his mouth, the smile waiting there. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Gave Flynn’s friends a lift to their party.’

‘You did what?’ She spun round. ‘You’ve had a skinful.’

‘Only a few beers. Anyway, we went across the fields, didn’t we? Skully was there, so he had my back.’

‘I might have guessed.’

‘We charged them a tenner each to hang on tight in the back of the pickup. Minted.’ His guarded smile broke cover.

‘Christ.’ She raked her hair back. ‘That’s Austen land, Ash. You’re lucky you weren’t arrested.’

There was a sardonic chuckle close by as Bridge leant in through a swirl of cigarette smoke to murmur, ‘Give Bay a truck full of fecking schoolgirls on his land and he’d be the one in danger of arrest. Hello!’ She waved at Ash. ‘We’ve not met. Happy New Year.’