‘Oh my god, I loved that film. I so wanted to be a Coyote when I was younger.’ Verity flicks her hair over her shoulder with attitude like she was acting the part.

‘I’d love to have seen you dance on a bar,’ says Brett, turning to Soph. ‘Any chance you want to give it a go again tonight?’

‘Yeah right. At eighteen I was as skinny as a rake, wearing something skimpy. There’s no way they’d let me go climbing on a bar in my state and in this frumpy shirt.’

‘You’ve just had a baby. And even then you’re still the hottest women in the room – no offence, Verity and Edie.’

‘None taken.’ I’m really warming to Brett.

‘Plus, who cares what top you’re wearing. I would watch you dance regardless. Frumpy top, or you know my personal favourite is always no top …’

‘Shhh, you’re making me blush and embarrassing me in front of all of my friends. As my boyfriend you’re slightly biased but thank you.’

He throws his arm around her, giving her a kiss, and she giggles as she pulls away.

Watching Brett and Soph together, I can see that he’s nothing like the guys she used to go for, the ones who played it so cool with her that they were practically ice cold.

Douglas puts his empty glass down on the table.

‘Yes! I did it in four,’ he says.

‘Take it easy, mate.’ Joel’s still staring at him. I’m almost relieved that I’m not the only one on the receiving end of his cold looks. ‘We might be taking a walk down memory lane, but we’re not eighteen anymore.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I say, looking at my barely touched drink.

Miles slams his drink down. ‘In three,’ he says proudly.

‘Yes!’ Douglas high-fives him and updates his scorecard.

Brett winces before picking up his drink. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’

By the time we’ve made it to the third pub – and on the fifth round, as we’ve compromised with two rounds in each – Douglas and Miles are in the lead, with the rest of us trailing behind.

‘Come on, guys,’ says Douglas. ‘You’re all flagging.’

I got the impression from Soph’s barbecue that Douglas was a big drinker, but there’s something about the way he is tonight that reminds me of Dad when he was out of control. His whole manner is off and it seems like he’s trying to put on an act rather than be himself. Occasionally I catch glimpses of sadness and I wonder if that’s the real him.

‘I’m so tired,’ says Soph, snuggling into Brett.

‘What happened to this being our big night out? Our one big chance to go crazy,’ he says, with a slur.