Sally-Ann leaves him at the bar and immediately heads off onto the dance floor. He watches her throw herself round the room, totally out of time with the music yet wholly relaxed. She soon catches the eye of a brunette girl wrapped in plastic who gyrates and wiggles ever closer. The girl is squeezed into a PVC dress that’s too small for her and that ends just past her hips. She’s tall but hunched over, struggling to stand in four-inch heels. It gives her the look of a newborn foal learning the use of its legs.

Tyler drains his pint and orders another. The rest of the SYPLGBTSN are here and before long he’s once again dodging the advances of the Family Liaison guy. The only thing left to do is get pissed.

“Drink?” says Sally-Ann, squeezing his arm.

“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.