Laura was frustrated. This was embarrassing and stupid; she wished she could magic herself back to the bed and breakfast. ‘I just am.’ She didn’t want to go into what their hostess had said about him not being willing to attend a literary festival in the town five miles away. He must already think she was an idiot.

‘Ask me anyway.’

‘You might as well,’ said Monica, her frustration obvious. ‘We’ve come a long enough way.’

At that moment two tumblers of whiskey appeared and were handed to the girls. Laura had resolved not to drink any more – she was already feeling the effects – but she was so grateful for the diversion she said, ‘Thank you very much,’ and took a large draught.

‘Steady,’ murmured Monica. ‘It’s strong stuff.’ Like a contrary teenager, Laura just laughed and took another gulp.

‘So, what were you going to ask me?’ Dermot seemed very insistent that her favour be asked.

It’s a funny thing about alcohol, thought Laura, feeling far removed from reality. You’re perfectly fine, not drunk at all, and then one more sip and you are completely out of your head. Although she knew intellectually it was a bad thing, a very bad thing, just at that moment, it felt really good. It seemed to make her perception extra clear. She felt bold and confident.

‘OK, here goes nothing.’ Laura smiled, suddenly loving the world. ‘Will you come to a literary festival I’m organising in England?’ Then, before he could answer she quickly added, ‘No? Well, I told you you’d say no.’ She may have suddenly taken the possession of the meaning of life but she wasn’t silly. She knew when she was beaten.

‘But I haven’t said no.’ Dermot stared at her. His gaze was direct and very unsettling.

‘But you will.’ Laura was sure of her ground even if physically it wobbled a little beneath her feet. Another sip of whiskey and suddenly she knew everything.

‘No I won’t,’ he said, his eyes narrow, his mouth slightly lifted in one corner.

‘Told you!’ said Laura, and then turned to Monica. ‘We can go back now. In fact, maybe we should.’

Monica was looking at her anxiously. She seemed miles away. Laura smiled lopsidedly at her and raised a glass. ‘Can we have some water, please?’ Monica turned to Charles, who was hovering in a helpful way.

‘Two waters coming up,’ he said.

Laura’s head had begun to swim. It was pleasant, if strange. She smiled at Dermot. He was so utterly lovely! And he was talking to her! Why was that? She did find it a little difficult to work out what he was saying, though. She leant closer and concentrated very hard on his mouth.

‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t go to the literary festival,’ Dermot said slowly. ‘I said I wouldn’t say no.’