‘See? People love meeting her! But no. She’s not here tonight. She gets free invites all the time, and a musical about Brexit, well, that’s right up her street, but she couldn’t be bothered travelling all the way up to Liverpool. She’ll catch it in London, if the show makes it that far.’

The private bar was in the bistro, cordoned off for the party. Jack helped himself to two glasses of bubbly from a waiter floating around with a silver tray and offered me one. Thanking him, I tried to think of encouraging words to give to Vicki Richards and now that I had company, I hoped Jack would be kind, too.

‘I still don’t understand why you’re here,’ I said, looking out for Vicki.

‘You mean I don’t strike you as a raving musical theatre fan?’

‘Nope.’

‘Correct, I’m not. I was in Liverpool for a meeting yesterday and Mum suggested I take her hotel and ticket, since she wasn’t using it and it’d only go to waste. Who doesn’t love a freebie?’

‘I’d totally do the same.’

‘Right! I’ve been on a couple of stag dos here in Liverpool. Great city, awesome night out. And when I realised Liverpool was playing at home to Man U – my team – well, I decided to make a weekend of it.’

‘You went to the game today? How did you get a ticket so easily?’

‘I just told you who my mum is.’

‘Hmm. It really is cool to be famous, then?’

‘Well, I get the perks without the fame. Best of both worlds.’

‘Mummy’s boy.’

‘Oh, I am. I really am.’

‘You wanna know what I am?’

‘Shockingly beautiful.’

I knocked back my bubbly, not expecting that brazen compliment.

‘No,’ I said, my cheeks flushing. ‘I’m a Blue.’

‘An Everton fan?’ he asked, confused. ‘Why?’

‘You know it’s so annoying when non-Scousers ask that,’ and before I could get into a petty debate about football, all five foot two of Vicki Richards bounced over and hugged me so tight I lost a few breaths.

‘It’s the woman with the incredible voice!’ Jack bellowed.

‘Me?’ Vicki asked; hopeful, anxious.

Jack took both her little hands within his and they disappeared in his grasp.

‘You’re a wonderful singer,’ he told her. ‘I got that spine tingle. Thank you!’

And Vicki’s wide doe eyes grew even larger, relief flooding through her tiny bones. It was obvious she wasn’t expecting much praise, but Jack said the right thing – and in my opinion, it sounded genuine. In that moment, I could’ve easily said to him, ‘And I reckon I love you, too, Jack Carmichael.’

Of course, I didn’t.