‘Great, you sure?’ asked Callum, who was in charge of writing down the answers.

‘Hundred per cent,’ said Chris with an urgent nod. Another reason why Tamsin wasn’t enjoying herself: from the very first question, Chris and Callum had been locked into a little world of two, both of them blissed out on good-natured competition and admiration for each other’s formidable general knowledge. Tamsin had only been able to help with one question so far, and to her mortification, she hadn’t known the answer to the only music question of the night (the year of Mozart’s birth).

In between rounds Dave would do a tour of the pub, stopping to repeat questions on request. When he reached their table Callum shook his head to indicate that they’d got them all, but Dave stopped anyway. He was tall, and quite good-looking: a wide, square face with clear blue eyes.

‘What about number 14, you got number 14?’ Dave put a hand on Leah’s bare shoulder and leaned in to their group. ‘’Cause if you didn’t, I got a clue for that one. The clue’s Canesten, geddit? You got it?’ He glanced towards Leah, clearly hoping for a reaction. ‘Funny thing about Canesten. I had to use some once, for sort of cock-rot chafing problem with me jock strap. And I was in the changing rooms, and a mate wanted to borrow some toothpaste so I said yeah sure, in that bag, and he brushed his teeth with the fucking Canesten!’

Dave looked down at Leah with undisguised lasciviousness. Then he winked, over her head, at the rest of the group.

‘Gor, I hope you lot win, then you can send her up to get the prize and we can all have a good look at those lovely legs.’

Will laughed and elbowed Leah, who looked as if she were about to cry. Chris was hunched over the answer sheet with Callum, oblivious to the discomfort Dave’s attentions were causing his girlfriend.

‘Anyone know number three, African river? Come on, guys, we must be able to get this one.’

‘I’m going for a cigarette,’ Tamsin announced loudly. ‘It’s not like you lot really need me anyway.’ She paused to give someone a chance to protest, but nobody did. Then she caught Leah’s eye. ‘Want to come too? They’ve got heaters, we can take this—’ She lifted a nearly full bottle of white wine from the table. Leah looked over at Chris, nodded once, and got to her feet. Jemima ran a smug hand through her blonde hair and settled herself closer to Chris.

The beer garden was almost as loud as the pub itself: crowds of smokers packed under four huge mildewed umbrellas, their faces tinted red by the outdoor heaters.