‘Evening,’ I replied, gratefully lifting the glass in his direction and taking a sip. I had made a deal with myself to stop drinking in the week but it wouldn’t do to be rude.

‘Good news,’ he said as he put the bottle back in the fridge. ‘That’s on the house. Bad news, Sumi isn’t coming.’

‘What do you mean she isn’t coming?’ I asked, immediately checking my phone.

‘She’s caught up but she didn’t want to tell you because she didn’t want you to spend the evening sat on your own in that shed,’ he recited from his own phone before slinging it back by the till. The cracked screen made my heart hurt. So little regard for the precious. ‘I thought it was a bit rude to refer to your place as a shed but you know her better than I do.’

Yes, I do, I thought to myself. I picked up the wine.

‘No, she’s being literal. I’m living in a converted shed at the bottom of my parents’ garden.’

He crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the bar.

‘Is it a nice shed?’

‘It is not.’

‘Then why are you living there?’

I looked at him over the rim of the wine glass. This drink was not free. This drink had a very high price tag indeed.

‘Haven’t got anywhere else to go,’ I said. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, London is really expensive. It’s going to take a while to find somewhere I can afford.’

‘There’ll be an article about you in the Daily Mail next week,’ he said with a disbelieving chuckle. ‘London Rents So High, This Professional Has to Live in a Shed.’

He pushed his black hair back from his eyes, revealing a strong, straight hairline. His forehead was paler than the rest of him, he must have been out in the sun since Saturday. The first time I’d seen him, I thought his nose was too big for his face but as soon as he started talking, it made perfect sense. Slightly larger than average, a little bit crooked, but perfectly at home with the rest of his generous features.

Gazing down at the glass of wine on the counter, I sighed. I was exhausted. If Sumi wasn’t coming, could I really stick it out all evening on my own until Patrick showed up?

‘I’m getting the feeling you’ve had a not-brilliant day,’ John said. ‘Trouble at the mill?’

I breathed in through my nose and pulled a hair elastic off my wrist, twisting my hair up into a topknot.

‘You could say that,’ I confirmed as a large man placed himself on the newly vacant stool at the side of me. My eyes widened in momentary panic as I realized he was a white man with dreadlocks. My forever nemeses. ‘How much do you know about e-sports?’