‘Mm-hmm.’ Clover felt her head swim. She could see Matty and Logan getting closer too; she sensed that with Mikey having made his move, Logan wouldn’t be far behind.

Mikey kissed her again, more slowly this time, putting a hand in her hair to draw her closer. This time she kissed him back too. She remembered how good he’d looked riding away from her earlier, the way he’d been so pleased to see her. It felt good to be wanted, desired . . . Not hated.

The band started up a song that everyone seemed to know. Mikey pulled away, looking back at Logan and laughing. ‘You remember last time we heard this?’

Logan nodded and began head-banging in time.

‘I’m going to the loo,’ Clover said to Mikey.

He laughed at the word ‘loo’. ‘But come straight back,’ he said, holding her wrist. His pupils were dilated, his lips a deep pink from their kisses.

‘I will.’

He kissed her again, releasing her.

She stood up, feeling the room lurch with the movement. Oh god, she’d been here before. She’d definitely drunk too much. She pushed feebly through the crowd towards the toilets, not making much headway. Everyone was flying, arms raised in the air, heavy-booted feet making the floor vibrate. She found an air pocket and squeezed into it, looked for another one and squeezed into that.

The toilets were near the front, by the main door, she knew that. If she could just get there, maybe get some air . . .

Someone dancing jumped on her toes suddenly, making her cry out with pain. It hurt like hell – and it would be a lot worse tomorrow, she knew. Inebriation was a great anaesthetic.

The man turned. ‘Fuck! I’m sorry ma— Clover!’

She looked back at him in shock. ‘Beau? What are you doing here?’ she cried. Twice in one day.

‘Same as you, I reckon!’ he grinned, jerking his head towards a brunette in a beanie dancing slinkily against him. He winked at her, his expression dopey and relaxed.

Clover’s stomach lurched. Did he mean he had seen her and Mikey? Did that mean—?

‘Hey, you’re not leaving, are you?’ Beau asked as she looked around the bar. There were so many faces, the flashing lights . . .

‘No! I—’ Clover felt the room spin a little faster. She suddenly felt very hot. She had a vague feeling there was something she wanted to say to him. She could remember that he had been on her mind a lot. ‘Listen, Beau, I really need to talk to you.’ She could hear her words were slurring.

He dipped a little lower, still dancing. ‘Sure? What about?’

‘Amy. Kit’s fiancée.’

His head jerked back as though she had burned him, a look on his face that suddenly made him resemble his brother. ‘No.’ The word was like a slap – hard and defined. He suddenly looked very sober. ‘Don’t even say her name.’

‘But—’