Johnny did his best Mick Jagger impression, holding his lips at ridiculous angles, making her laugh.

She came in on the female vocals, leaning in towards him and rolling her shoulders. Their voices merged and blended; they had spent too many karaoke nights together not to break into song now. She spun away from him, arms above her head, swinging her hips and finally losing herself to the song . . . It felt so good. He was right. She had forgotten how it felt to let go, to not be constantly thinking about work, Kit Foley forever in her head.

The guitar solo came in and Johnny obliged with an enthusiastic air homage. Clover whooped and twirled around him, letting her arms fly wide as she spun in languid circles, her hair flying behind her, eyes closed. Yes, she felt free . . . free from the anger that had boiled in the pit of her stomach ever since Cory’s death. Just for a moment she could feel light, effervescent, like she might dissolve into a stream of bubbles and lift skywards.

Johnny caught her mid-spin, so that she half twisted in his arms with the momentum. Her eyes opened as she laughed. ‘—Oh!’

‘You were about to trip over that,’ Ari said, indicating the low sofa table by their legs.

Ari?

‘But don’t stop, please,’ he said, letting her go and stepping back, revealing Kit leaning against the wall, one hand stuffed in his trouser pocket. ‘We were enjoying it. You’re a great dancer. Very . . . spirited.’

Clover looked across at Johnny, who was looking even more mortified than her. Had they seen his air guitar?

‘We thought you were out,’ he said, clearing his throat.

‘We were. But I wish now we’d come back earlier,’ Ari laughed, going over to the table and pouring himself a drink too. He held up a glass to Kit questioningly.

Kit shrugged, still not moving. Clover felt her cheeks flame. How long had they been standing there?

‘. . . So when did you get back?’ Ari asked, letting the vermouth generously overflow the measures.

‘Forty minutes ago? Something like that.’

‘Long day,’ Ari said. ‘No wonder you were blowing off some steam.’

Kit pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to get his drink from Ari. Clover watched his back, knowing she had to compose herself, that this was the moment when she either began to win him over, or entrenched him in the belief that she was working against him. She had to be professional. Unbiased. Unhating. All those things. She needed to get water flowing properly beneath their bridge because until she did that, what had happened between them would continue to sit between them.

She downed her drink, needing the courage.

‘Another?’ Ari asked, holding his hand out, seeing her glass was empty.