‘Don’t be daft. Pay me back later.’ I yanked my bag from my shoulder and began rooting for some notes.

‘No, honestly. Pay for these, enjoy. I’ll be back in five minutes.’ Eve turned to walk away.

I turned too, feeling an urge to grab my friend sternly by the arm and demand she stay and let me pay, but I let it fizzle away. I shrugged and turned back to the barman who was wearing a smarmy look, thinking he was now in luck. He was completely oblivious to the fact I was sporting a wedding ring and pregnancy belly which I must have done very well to disguise with my floaty dress.

He intermittently tore his glance away to focus on mixing and pouring the drinks and then would look back at me with a glint in his eye. I watched intently. I always enjoyed the artistic display of a cocktail being prepared, especially when the barman making it was so easy on the eye. I laid out two notes as the barman simultaneously presented the cocktails in all their cloudy multi-coloured glory.

‘Keep the change,’ I said as I picked up the drinks and sashayed my way to the nearest table.

It was almost an hour later that I finally tuned into my intuition. I had been chatting to a couple of Italian artists who were in town for a commission piece down at the seafront. One had finished off Eve’s drink and had bought me another – this time I carefully opted for a mocktail – and all the while I was thinking about Eve. When Eve gets back, she will love these guys, we’ll all have a drink together and Eve will impersonate the smaller one’s accent and funny walk. When Eve gets back, everything will be complete again. But that hour of conversation came and went and finally I gave in to the nagging doubt that was building at the back of my mind and excused myself to call Eve. When it went straight to answerphone, my first thought was: daft cow, she’s probably chatting to Ant. Ant was the bouncer at the club at the bottom of our road and whom we stopped and spoke to most evenings we went out. Then I got irritated. It was typical Eve behaviour to abandon me randomly, but it was not okay on my birthday. Not when she had organised and pleaded with me to come out. I threw my phone back in my bag and walked straight out of the bar, ignoring the raucous calls of the Italians behind me.

I hugged my arms around myself. The heat of the bar was a stark contrast to the icy January night air. It didn’t occur to me to pay particular attention to the sirens echoing around the streets. It was a common sound and one I had become accustomed to hearing in my dreams. But as I turned the corner to the road that led to the hill where our flat was, the sirens became louder and I could see a vision of flashing reds and yellows. I could see Ant. He was waving at me. No, he was trying to get my attention. I quickened my pace, adrenaline filling my body. I wasn’t sure what was happening but as I approached Ant, who was usually expressionless except for the mechanical movement of his jaw as he chewed his gum, I could see his brow was strained and his mouth was parted.