‘And the winners are …’ Jerry announces, practically falling off his stool. ‘Duke and Evie!’

The pair leap up in a fit of excitement, screaming ‘Yay!’ in harmony and grabbing each other’s arms. Smiles wide as the moon, they jump and whoop, before suddenly coming to an abrupt stop. They look at each other then and, instantly, at exactly the same time, both seem to become remarkably embarrassed by such displays of teamwork, and sit down again, quickly and quietly, like it was a close call to ever have been so enthusiastic in such close proximity to one another.

‘Well then, goodnight from me,’ Duke says, once everyone starts filing out of the room.

‘Yeah,’ says Evie, standing up too. She opens an arm outward, letting him know to go on ahead. He does. When he turns back around to say something – he doesn’t know what, exactly – she’s gone.

13

Evie

‘The coffee spillage was not my fault, just so we’re clear,’ Duke tells Evie as they play a fairground game of Bottle Stand. They are Trying One More Time re: a fake date, at the behest of both their teams. It’s going better this time – at least in the sense that neither of them are covered in coffee. She aims a ball at the row of jam jars. If she can knock one off the ledge, she wins a prize.

‘Yes,’ she says, after she’s missed her shot. ‘It was. But whatever. I’ve been talked into trying again, so … I’ll just be sure to keep all further drinks out of your reach, and also be my guest: you can pay for everything from now on. I won’t even pretend to try and reach for my money.’

‘If you’d have let me be a gentleman in the first place …’ Duke intones.

Evie shakes her head. ‘Seriously? I thought we just said bygones?’

Duke bites his bottom lip. ‘We did. As you were.’

‘You know,’ she tells him, pretending the jar is his head and if she hits the target she knocks it clean off, ‘what’s insane about this is that I can’t tell if anyone has even clocked you at all out here. If there were photographers around, wouldn’t we know? Can anybody even see this charade playing out?’

‘You’d think they’d be easy to spot, wouldn’t you?’ Duke says, handing her another ball and pointing to a jar as he says, ‘I know the instinct is overarm for this, but you might be better off with underarm.’

She issues him with a glare.

‘Or not,’ he adds, holding up his hands in surrender.