‘Do you want to know if you’re still a virgin or not?’

Laura nodded and followed her friend obediently down the road to the pub.

The fact that she had a big black pint waiting for him seemed to endear Monica to Dermot – enough for him to go near enough to her to pick it up, at least. Laura had taken refuge in one of the other small rooms and was listening from behind a panel. They’d decided it would be easier if Monica confronted him by herself.

‘You gave me a hard time in there,’ he said. Laura heard the glass land on the table after several long seconds. She could imagine the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Then she remembered it was a secondary sexual characteristic and stopped herself.

‘I just thought you were completely irresponsible,’ said Monica.

Laura winced. Here she goes again. How could Monica be so rude? She couldn’t tell if Monica was genuinely cross on her behalf or trying to provoke a reaction.

‘Why, for feck’s sake?’

Laura could imagine his indignation and didn’t blame him for it – or the language.

‘Because you should always use a condom,’ said Monica. ‘Not just when you’re asked to.’

You had to admire her persistence, thought Laura, even if it was making her personally want to tie herself in knots to suppress her embarrassment. She didn’t dare actually cross her legs, or hunch over; she was getting the odd funny look as it was.

‘I quite agree,’ said Dermot, sounding quite affable. ‘I always do.’

There was silence. Laura could almost hear Monica narrowing her eyes.

‘So when was the last time?’

Laura wiped away the film of sweat this question created and stuffed her knuckles in her mouth. She no longer cared what the people around her thought about her behaviour.

‘What, that I used a condom? Or had sex?’

Laura let out a little moan.

‘Either. Presumably the answer’s the same.’

Monica was a terrier when it came to getting information, Laura realised, and really wished she could have emulated some less tenacious breed. But would a cocker spaniel really do the job? She was dimly aware that a combination of embarrassment, terror, remorse and a whole lot of other emotions too complex to be named was making her train of thought spin off the rails.

‘As I said before, about four months ago,’ said Dermot and then added, ‘Ah, I think I’ve worked out what this is all about.’

Laura, suddenly terrified she was about to hear herself talked about behind her back, squeezed past several people and appeared in front of them. She couldn’t rely on Monica any longer – she had to confront Dermot herself.

‘It’s me,’ she said from the door of the snug, trying to look as natural as possible and as if she hadn’t been hiding nearby all along.