I had been supposed to be going to see Mamma Mia! tonight with Jack, who, to my ultimate shock, had been keen on going. He said his boss raved about it and his mum hated it, so he was interested to see whose team he’d bat for. This morning, I’d left the tickets in Si’s pigeonhole with a note saying Yours if you want them. It seemed a shame to leave them stuck to the fridge, going to waste.

Anyone would think I’d just handed him a cheque for a million quid.

‘They were a raffle prize,’ I tell him.

‘And you chose me to accompany you?’ I think he might cry.

‘Oh no. I can’t—’

‘But you’re my partner in showbiz crime, Chloe! Please say yes, please,’ he begs, fluttering his eyelids. He’s not pretty; rather he’s petite and, well, pointy. His nose, his cheekbones, his chin are all at a sharp angle, matching the pointed quiff in his hair. There’s always a twinkle in his eye though, a live wire keeping him buzzy. Very, very buzzy.

I look at the ticket.

‘Erm …’ I say.

‘Oh, it’s not a date or anything! I’m not – er – you know, I mean, I wouldn’t—’

I smile. I know it’s not a date.

‘Have you already seen it?’ Si asks, deflated.

‘No … It’s just …’ I can’t seem to express myself. ‘Perhaps I’m a little more suited to Les Misérables right now.’

Si shoves his musical score into his smart rucksack, not hiding his disappointment.

‘Why don’t you ask your pal who teaches English?’ I suggest. ‘What’s his name? Mr Belling?’

‘For starters,’ Si holds up one hand in my face, ‘Drew Belling is not my pal. And secondly, he’ll think it’s a date. And it’s not.’

‘Right …’

‘And I’ll be honest. I called my sister before lunch. And my mum. They’re both busy.’

‘Wow. So I’m your last resort, eh?’

Si folds his arms and purses his lips, making them so thin they disappear.

‘Whatever. Forget it,’ he sulks. ‘Thanks for the tickets, Chloe. I mean ticket. Singular.’