“I was just wondering how you managed to browbeat me into coming to this place.” He has to lean in close and shout over the music. She pulls away from him slightly.

“What happened to Bambi?” he asks.

“Who?”

“Never mind. What are you having?”

“Bourbon,” she says, and this time he finishes her sentence for a change: “On the rocks with a twist.” They both laugh, and he orders the drinks.

Her face is red with exertion; a bead of sweat runs along her jawline and drips from her chin. She tugs absently at the choker round her neck. She notices him looking at her and correctly intuits what he’s thinking. She pinches the fleshy fold of her underarm through her sleeve and jiggles it. “Arms like saggy tree trunks,” she says. “I don’t like getting them out in case someone faints.” She reaches out and squeezes his bicep. “We don’t all have muscles to show off.” She picks up her drink. “Speaking of which, are you aware you have an admirer?” She uses her head to point rather unsubtly along the bar.

He turns to follow her gaze and sees Paul Enfield. The fire officer raises a glass in his direction.

“I’ll leave you to it.” She upends her glass and drains the contents in one, then disappears back into the crowd on the dance floor.

Enfield moves round the bar to join him. “Can I buy you a drink?” he shouts.

He’s about to decline since he still has half a pint in his hands, and then changes his mind. “Fuck it! Why not? Dark rum and Coke. Cheers.”

They wait while Enfield catches the eye of the young guy behind the bar and places his order. Then he turns and says, “Small world.”

Tyler laughs. “Small scene.”

“True.” Enfield hands a twenty to the barman. “You know, I got the feeling earlier on you suspected me of something.” It’s an odd conversation to be having when both of them have to shout to be heard over the music.

Tyler smiles to take the sting out of his words. “I understand that, in the past, a number of arsonists have turned out to be fire officers.”

The crowd parts, and he spots Sally-Ann again. She’s standing alone at the edge of the dance floor. The brunette foal from earlier has moved on and is all over a pretty blond woman now, their hands moving frantically across each other’s backs while they attempt to suck each other’s faces off.

“You seem to know a lot about arsonists all of a sudden.”

“I’ve been doing some research.” Tyler turns back to see Enfield eyeing him closely, the frown back on his forehead. “You suspect me.”

Enfield cocks his head to one side, perhaps embarrassed to have been found out. “It’s the authority pyromaniacs fixate on, not firefighting. Just as many turn out to be coppers.”

“It seems we both fit the profile.”

“Are you an arsonist?”