‘There’s always next year,’ says Aaron, pulling us into a huddle backstage.

‘And Hayley will be back by then so I’m sure you’ll be glad to be rid of a beginner like me who unexpectedly goes off on tangents like I did tonight.’

‘Edie, that’s the whole point,’ says Yas.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Dave points his finger playfully at me. ‘Don’t think you’re leaving us now. We can have up to five in the team, you know.’

‘Too right,’ says Aaron. ‘You’re not a temporary part of this team, OK? You’re stuck with us. Now that’s sorted, let’s grab a drink and drown our sorrows.’

The bar is packed when we make it out from the backstage, but our work colleagues have secured a table in the corner. Claire gives her commiserations as I walk up.

‘You guys were robbed,’ she says.

‘The other team were really good.’

‘Always a shame that you can only ever have one winner. Anyway, well done, Edie. I’m proud of you and the rest of the team.’

She turns to Aaron and drags him into the conversation, and spotting Claudia on her own I excuse myself.

‘So, did you enjoy it?’

‘So much. I’m in awe of you and the team. I’m definitely coming again. That last one where Yas kept coming up with reasons not to marry Rodney had me in stitches.’

‘I know, I couldn’t believe the excuses people would come up with to get out of doing something.’

‘I would have thought you’d be well practised at it,’ says Layla, raising an eyebrow at me as she hands us both a glass of wine.

Claudia laughs and gives me a knowing look.

‘It’s like I said to Edie last week, there’s always going to be a reason or excuse; sometimes you’ve just got to give it a go.’

The two of them nod at each other and I can’t help but think that my ears should have been burning whilst I was backstage.

Claire and Aaron join our conversation and we start to talk about tonight’s performance.

‘You know,’ says Yas, joining us, ‘I feel like we need to toast our success. We may not have won but look how far we came. That in itself deserves recognition.’

‘Here, here,’ says Aaron, nodding.

Ordinarily, I’d keep shtum and hope that someone else would jump in and do it. It’s usually my go-to response when I don’t want to do something, but as I look around at our corner of the pub, full of friendly faces from work and their partners, I surprise myself by feeling this sudden urge to say something to the people I consider a second family to me.

‘That’s a great idea,’ I say, and I clap my hands together.