‘No buts, Clover. I’m telling you now, do not mention her name to Kit.’

She looked back at him, trying hard not to see two of him. She had never heard Beau sound so stern before. He really meant it.

‘I just want to know why they—’

‘Never. Say. Her. Name.’

She swayed as the crowd jostled her. It felt like the walls were shuffling in, the ceiling dropping down. She felt confused, sick, hot, overwhelmed.

A hand appeared on his shoulder. Beau turned. ‘Oh, hey!’

‘We’re lea . . .’ Kit’s voice trailed off as he saw who his brother was talking to.

‘Oh man! You’re not going, are you?’

‘We’re gonna take the party back to your place,’ a softer voice said. Clover saw a petite black-haired girl standing in close to Kit, her body pressed against his arm, her hand clutching his. She had a nose ring and tongue stud, and the most beautiful eyes Clover had ever seen.

‘We’re leaving, yeah,’ he said, his eyes on Clover as though she had asked the question.

Clover stared back at him, but she could feel her bruised eye begin to water. It was more sensitive to the smoke and lights. He didn’t have the benefit of make-up to camouflage his bruises, of course, but he also didn’t need it – he wore his scars and marks like a soldier. Clover could see how it would make the women flock, bring out their maternal impulses . . . Not that the girl hanging off him looked especially maternal.

It was the first time she had seen him properly since . . . since . . .

Because whatever she’d told Johnny to the contrary at the snowpark, their surprise meeting earlier hadn’t counted. It hadn’t moved them on. He’d had his goggles on. It had been like talking to a wall. Now, though, she could see into his eyes; and there was that look again, the one she’d seen in the pool. Not the one when he’d raged at her for trying to rescue him; nor the one where his taunts had spun into passion, like laughter sliding into tears.

This was the look when he’d asked her what it would take for him to be forgiven. Whether he would be better off dead. It was the look that had shown her he was broken somewhere inside. That had been the moment, she realized now, where everything between them had shifted, moving from their pantomime of contempt to something raw and vulnerable and hidden.

‘Well, d’you want me and Stacey to come? I can get my coat,’ Beau offered, breaking the seal on their vacuum.

‘No.’ The anger came back into his eyes again; still on Clover. ‘This party’s just for two.’