‘Everything okay?’ The barman appears at Alan’s shoulder and quickly assesses the situation. ‘Can I help?’ When Damian shrugs the waiter grabs him by the hand and gestures for Alan to do the same. ‘Okay. Three, two, one. Pull!’

Jenna winces as Damian shifts in the chair, his shoulder knocking against hers as he’s hauled to his feet. As he sways on the spot, one hand on the barman’s shoulder, the other on Alan’s, Jenna slips out of the chair and heads out of the bar. She hears someone shouting her name as she runs.

‘Hey, Jenna. Wait!’ She’s halfway down the corridor when someone touches her shoulder.

She turns sharply, half expecting to see Damian lumbering towards her but it’s just Alan, his glasses on the end of his nose, his curls clinging to his damp forehead.

‘Damian just passed out. He took out a table on his way down.’

‘And?’

‘He’s fine. The barman went to get some other—’ He breaks off. ‘Are you okay? What happened back there?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. Honestly, Alan, I’m fine. I appreciate you coming to check on me but I just … I just want to go back to my room.’

‘That’s cool. I’ll come with you.’

‘No.’ She turns to go. ‘I’m fine, honest—’

‘I’m coming with you.’ He loops his arm through hers and smiles. ‘Make sure you get back safely.’

Jenna hasn’t got the energy to argue so she lets him guide her out through the glass door and into the cool night air. The change in temperature makes her head pound. She feels like shit, and not just because she finished off the best part of a bottle of wine. She hit Damian. She slapped him in the face, just like Tom did to Kate. She’s no different. Or is she? Damian kissed her. He forced himself on her when she couldn’t escape. She was justified in doing what she did. Wasn’t she? But there were no witnesses. It would be her word against Damian’s. And Tom’s word against Kate’s. Her thoughts weave and swirl, becoming tangled and dark.