She gawped at him. Did he really just say ‘digging the retro vibe’? Did he really think any of Beyoncé’s songs were old enough to be described as vintage?

‘You startled me,’ she said. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the shins and make a run for it. And Beyoncé is very current, I’ll have you know.’

He smiled. ‘I’m not judging. It’s a great song,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t stop you to talk about Beyoncé. I noticed you must have a hole in your bag, or it’s open or something, because you dropped a couple of things.’

It was only then she noticed that in his hand he held her favourite MAC lipstick (Russian Red, if you must know), the spare key to Libby’s flat, which was on a Derry Girls-themed key ring and, to her utter embarrassment, a tampon.

She blinked at him. She willed her brain to find something smart, or witty, to say that would distract both of them from the embarrassment of the tampon in his hand. Something that would save her from coming across as a complete eejit, or a total weirdo. That ship, however, she realised, had well and truly set sail and she was its only passenger.

‘Oh, right, okay,’ she mumbled, and grabbed for her bag, realising that, thankfully, there wasn’t a hole in it, but, unfortunately, she had not zipped the small pocket on the front closed and she must have been walking at such a determined pace, empowered by Beyoncé, that the contents had been shaken loose. She quickly checked to see if anything else was missing. Everything seemed present and accounted for.

‘I don’t actually make much of a habit of accosting strangers, but I recognised you from Grandad’s shop and those MAC lipsticks aren’t cheap to come by. My girlfriend wore them. My ex-girlfriend that is.’ It was his turn to look flustered, as he glanced down at the tampon in his hand. Thankfully he passed no comment on it as he pointed it at her.

Jo took it from him, mumbling a quiet thank you. She didn’t want or need to know if they were the same brand his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, used.

‘Well thank you,’ she managed to say through her crucifying embarrassment. ‘That’s very good of you.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘No problem.’

It was then Jo realised they had just landed very firmly in that uncomfortable little territory where they had said what they needed to say and now needed to say goodbye and go about their business while acknowledging that both were walking in the same direction.

Lorcan looked down to his feet – he wore old-school Vans, which he scuffed about in a manner that reminded her of a shy schoolboy. She wondered whether it would look odd to suddenly start walking back in the direction she came from just to avoid him.