He went out again, leaving Matty staring after him in openmouthed amazement.

‘Why won’t he answer me?’ Matty hissed.

Clover reached an arm over and patted her. ‘I think the question you should probably be asking is, why do you care?’

‘. . . I don’t! I don’t care! I’m just . . . curious. Aren’t you curious?’

‘No.’

They heard the bathroom door lock click and the shower start up. They lay there for several moments more, feeling defeated by the prospect of getting up and beginning their day. With a sigh, Clover heaved herself to a sitting position and groaned, trying to remember quite how she’d got herself into this state.

‘Oh god . . . those Flügels,’ she groaned. ‘I’m never drinking again.’ She pressed the coffee mug to her lips and let the caffeine-scented steam mist her face. She felt worse than hung over. She felt humiliated. Matty had found her in the toilets, running in to throw up herself. What must Mikey and Logan have thought of them, bailing like that as they staggered out of the bar together, arm in arm and pale as death?

She closed her eyes and refused to think about the other thing.

Her eyes flew open as she remembered something else instead. ‘Fuck,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘. . . I spoke to Beau last night – about Amy,’ she muttered, trying to force her mind onto work.

‘Who?’ Matty groaned.

‘The fiancée.’

‘Oh . . . Why?’

Yes, why? She wasn’t sure herself. ‘Because I was off my face and it seemed like a good idea at the time? I don’t know why. I just saw him and . . . it came out. I guess I hoped that it’s true what they say about drunk talk being real talk.’

‘Who says that?’

‘My grandfather.’

‘Oh.’

Clover continued caffeine-steaming her face, trying not to feel so bad. It felt better being more vertical. ‘He was . . . strangely adamant that I should never mention her, never make contact with her, never bring up her name in Kit’s presence . . .’

Matty turned over. ‘So don’t tell me – now you’ve been told that, all you want to do is mention her, make contact with her and bring up her name in Kit’s presence.’

‘Naturally.’

Matty scowled up at her. ‘I don’t understand you two,’ she mumbled.

‘What’s to understand? We despise one another.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully, her instincts beginning to push past her hangover. ‘. . . But you know, for Beau to overreact like that, there’s clearly a story there.’

‘Or maybe he was just as pissed as you were.’

‘Possibly. But if she is a raw nerve for Kit . . . You’ve got to find a way to contact her.’

‘How? I’ve tried. Her agent won’t take any more of my calls; she says Amy doesn’t want to know. Her social media accounts are all private. What can I do?’

‘Be ingenious. Find a way.’

‘Ugh.’