Mrs Ironside folded her lips, making her disapproval at this feeble attitude plain.

Friday night arrived and Laura and Grant set off to meet Monica. It was amazing how much better you got at parking if you had to practise a lot, thought Laura as she finally straightened up and turned off the ignition. Not that she’d actually been able to fit in any of the five spaces she’d tried, but she did feel much more confident handling the car now: she knew the dimensions of the car precisely. They climbed out.

‘God, I hope the car will be safe here!’ said Grant, checking that Laura had actually locked it, although he’d heard the clunk of her doing it just as well as she had.

‘We’re in Clifton,’ said Laura. ‘It’s not going to get keyed, the hubcaps stolen or broken into. You’re such an old woman sometimes!’

‘You can talk! Now come on. Let’s find this wine bar. I’m longing to meet Monica in the flesh.’

Monica was sitting at the bar, chatting to the barman. She jumped off her stool and hugged Laura. ‘So lovely to see you, sweetie! And this must be Grant! Hi!’

Grant and Monica kissed each other. ‘So,’ said Monica. ‘What are we having? Laura will have her usual pint of whiskey. Grant?’

‘Pint of whiskey? That doesn’t sound like the Laura I know and love!’

Monica laughed. ‘You should see her when she’s offshore. She’s a madwoman.’

‘I’ll have a white wine spritzer,’ said Laura, as if she’d never drunk whiskey out of tumblers, or lemonade the colour of highlighter pens, which is how it seemed to come in Ireland. Or, most importantly, offered her body to a famous writer so he’d attend her literary festival.

‘I’ll have grapefruit juice and lemonade,’ said Grant.

‘I’m buying Grant’s car, but he’s driving us home,’ Laura explained to Monica as she and Grant sat either side of her at the bar.

‘Buying a car? Haven’t you got one already? No, I suppose not,’ Monica said when she’d ordered the drinks.

‘Bookshop pay, on the whole, is pants,’ said Laura, sipping her spritzer. ‘But I do – did – really love my job.’

‘If you’re buying Grant’s car, how come he can afford to buy one in the first place if he worked in the bookshop too?’ asked Monica, reasonably enough.

‘I had a proper job in IT before I joined the book trade,’ Grant explained. ‘And a small inheritance. So that’s my financial cards on the table.’ He quickly closed the subject and turned to Monica. ‘I want to tell you just how much I love your act,’ he gushed. ‘Just fabulous. Did Laura tell you how I dragged her along to see you?’

‘I think I did,’ muttered Laura to herself.

‘And isn’t she glad I did?’ said Grant, looking at her.