‘I’m not running away,’ I said, gripping the jacket with both hands. Why did a rabbit need to be so bloody heavy? ‘I’m leaving to spend the rest of the day with my boyfriend.’

‘In that case, why don’t you let me help you,’ John said, bending over to grab a handful of denim. He heaved my jacket out from under the wobbling rabbit and threw it into my arms. ‘Here.’

The bunny teetered behind me as I stared at him, clutching my jacket to me like a safety blanket. I wanted to say something, do something, only I didn’t know what. I wanted it to be all right and it wasn’t.

‘Ros! John!’

But we turned too late. The oversized cuddly toy fell face forward, right on top of the pair of us, knocking us both to the floor. I landed on top of John, pinned flat by an errant arm.

‘Shit,’ I said through clenched teeth, trying to roll out of a John, Ros and Rabbit sandwich without showing the entire room my knickers. ‘Shit shit shit.’

‘Ros?’ John whispered urgently.

‘What?’ I replied, meeting his eyes as a rescue effort mounted beyond the rabbit. He was smiling. Without a word, he put his lips to mine and kissed me.

Short, sharp, electric.

I pulled back, stunned, just as the bunny was successfully raised by Adrian, Eva, Creepy Dave and Weird Dean.

‘Are you hurt?’ Eva asked, offering a hand to help me up and Ade pulled John to his feet. ‘Do we need to call an ambulance?’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I insisted, still clutching my jacket in both hands. ‘Also, you are very strong.’

‘I teach CrossFit,’ Eva nodded. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘And you,’ I murmured, catching John’s eye and pressing my fingers to my lips. ‘I’m just going to pop out and get some fresh air, excuse me.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ he offered.

‘No you won’t,’ I shouted, running out the rabbit warren and back into the real world, where Patrick was waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘Anyone home?’ I asked as I let myself into my parents’ extremely hot kitchen the next evening and immediately downed a giant glass of water. It seemed as though the entire country had been stuck in a sauna and I wasn’t coping. Maybe that was why my brain was messing with me. It was just too bloody hot for rational thought. I’d seen them talk about heat-induced psychosis on BBC Breakfast and if it was on the BBC, didn’t it have to be true?