‘I was just trying to think of the places we used to go,’ I reasoned, pausing in lacing up my skates to watch Sumi dump half a tub of silver sparkles in Adrian’s hair, howling with laughter as she wiped the remainder onto her leggings. ‘We always had so much fun here. Well, apart from the last time.’

‘I’d forgotten all about it,’ Lucy admitted. ‘Too much going on these days. I can hardly remember what happened last week, let alone ten years ago.’

I bent over to finish doing up my skates, wheeling my feet back and forth in my seat. Why did I feel so unsteady? I used to be a roller skating goddess. Skating forwards, backwards, spinning around with a drink in one hand, and, well, drink in the other most of the time.

‘Who invited John?’ I nodded at the bartender as he whizzed around the roller rink on unsteady legs. He was too tall, limbs too long, angles too sharp. It felt as though he was defying the laws of physics every moment he remained upright.

‘Sumi asked me to text him,’ Lucy replied. ‘Why?’

‘We never used to hang out with the bartender at The Lexington,’ I pointed out as he took another wild turn, spinning around Jemima with windmills for arms. ‘I don’t get the appeal, if I’m honest. He’s so pleased with himself all the time.’

‘He’s not just the bartender,’ she said. ‘He owns it.’

My head snapped up with surprise. ‘He owns Good Luck?’

‘Good Luck and another place in Shoreditch,’ she confirmed. ‘Buena Suerta, it’s tapas, you’d love it, we should go.’

‘Then why is he always behind the bar?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘And why was he mixing drinks at Adrian’s parents’ party?’

‘Because he works hard and he’s nice?’ she suggested. She leaned back as far as she could in her hard plastic chair and shuffled until she looked as though she was somewhere near comfortable. ‘I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?’

‘Well, I still think he’s a tit,’ I muttered. ‘He’s arrogant.’

‘Just your type then,’ Lucy said with a small smile before tittering at my dark expression. ‘What time is Patrick joining us?’

‘He’s meeting us for dinner,’ I said as I attempted to stand. So far, so no-broken-bones. ‘He had to write all day.’

‘Didn’t fancy the skating?’

‘He didn’t say that but …’ I moved my stiff legs back and forth, clutching the back of Lucy’s chair.

‘Go on then,’ she instructed as I grabbed the side of the rink and made my way to the gate. ‘I want to see you bust some moves.’

‘Bust my arse, more like,’ I muttered as I wheeled slowly away.