‘What about scarves, belts, things like that?’

They were stuffed in with her knickers but he rifled through them until he found a scarf that had been round a sun hat Laura had bought through necessity, the last time she’d been on holiday with her parents, several years ago.

‘Here.’ He tied it round her neck. ‘It looks nice, but your hair needs to be in a higher ponytail. And it needs an iron.’

‘What, my hair? I know, the trouble is straightening it—’

‘Not your hair! I like that curly, frizzy look, it’s cute. No, I meant your skirt! Have you got an iron?’

She nodded, and put on a smug expression. ‘Another reason I had friends in my student house was I had an iron and knew how to use it.’

‘No wonder you won Miss Congeniality three years in a row.’

Laura giggled. ‘How do you know I didn’t? I was popular. Sometimes people prefer someone who’s a bit quieter.’

‘Who could iron.’

Aware she wasn’t going to convince Grant that her university days weren’t spent reading and ironing her friends’ clothes, or if they were, she’d really enjoyed them, she said, ‘My mother used to get me to do all the ironing.’

‘It’s a useful skill,’ he said, refusing to be sympathetic to this potential tale of childhood cruelty. ‘I’ll do it while you do your hair.’

‘You’re terribly bossy,’ Laura objected, getting out the ironing board.

‘I know. It’s why I’m the manager of the shop and you’re not.’

‘I’m not sure having one full-time assistant and a couple of part-timers makes you the head of a vast empire . . .’

‘Of course it does. Now hurry up, we don’t want to miss the first set.’

Laura’s efforts with her hair meant that while the bulk of it was in a fifties-style ponytail, there was still a lot of stray hairs, giving her a dark gold aura round her head. ‘It’s not very tidy.’

‘It’s not supposed to be tidy! It’s supposed to be a bit laid-back. You don’t have to look like Sandy in Grease.’

Laura stopped trying to smooth her hair. ‘Grant, I don’t mind dressing the part but I’m not actually going to do Lindy Hopping. You do know that, don’t you?’

Grant smiled at her. ‘Come along. It’s going to be a great night.’

Together they walked down the road to the minicab office. Grant was going to sleep on Laura’s sofa that night so he could drink.

‘I hope it’s not the sort of place where you have to get legless just to get through the evening,’ said Laura.

‘Have you ever been legless?’ Grant demanded.

‘Not often, no,’ said Laura meekly. ‘I really am boring!’