‘Evening, Pete. Long time, eh?’

‘Clio.’

‘Oh wow, do you know each other? I mean, I bet everyone knows each other down here, don’t they? You all seem to. In this pub, at least. It’s like living in a wee village, but you’re in this pure massive city.’ Shiv’s accent thickened in her gullet in the presence of another Scot.

Clio cleared her throat.

‘Mm. Pete brought me here to this very bar, years ago, when my single came out. For an article. Same table, I think. Good optics, you said – right, Pete? “Let’s sit here where everyone can see us.”’

Pete coughed. The other men seemed to be looking away.

‘So this is Shiv here’s tour of victory, eh? Because you’re Roger from the NME, aren’t you?’ She pointed across the table at the other journalist. ‘And you must be from the record company. I mean, sorry darling, but you stand out a mile. It’s nice to see that the traditions are still being preserved. Taking the new pop princess out for a public crowning, getting her nice and drunk and malleable, writing the pieces up afterwards. Yeah, I think I’ll sit in for this one, boys, if you don’t mind. We go way back, me and this girl here, so I fancy keeping a wee eye on her tonight.’

Shiv felt her stomach turn. It was as though her mother had turned up at the school gates and tried to wash her face with a spat-on hanky. You had to show these guys you were cool and this wasn’t cool at all. And God, she could handle herself just fine. But, still, this was Clio Campbell.

‘Nah nah, Clio, pal. Everything’s fine. This is all just friends hanging out, isn’t it, guys? They’re great, these guys. Here, Ed—’ She flicked a hand at the record-company guy, feeling in command. ‘Ed will get us a couple more pints of snakebite, won’t you? And you can tell me what you’re doing here, in this pub of all places!’

The two journalists pressed themselves into the wall of the booth, kept their eyes on the table.

‘I was just meeting a guy – do you know Norman from the Fannies, yeah? – friend of his, new band, he wants someone to do some backing vocals. But he’s late. I don’t usually come here – bit scenestery for me these days.’

‘So you live down here? I’m thinking of moving – we all are, the band. I mean, what the fuck is there back home? We’re staying in Glasgow in the dump near the college we stopped going to, but we’re hardly there. What’s the point, eh? I want a flat on Camden fucking High Street, right in the middle of this!’