‘Very true. I am an ’umble man. Ever so ’umble. And if it will put this whole nonsense to bed and mean that I can get back to work, I’m willing to say a few conciliatory words. When do you want me to do it?’

Margaret glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘This evening on the Six O’Clock News,’ she said. ‘Sophie will ask you a few questions and then you’ll say whatever needs to be said and we can put the entire matter behind us, all right? Which gives you a few hours to prepare. Bob, I’m trusting you on this.’

‘Of course, Mildred, said Ben.

THE LAST NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE

An awkward silence fell upon the hall when Nelson stepped inside, and he stood up straight, pulling on his belt, while appreciating the attention that was coming his way. If there had ever been a time when he needed to exude confidence, then this was it. Walking towards the cash desk, he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room turn towards him, while a middle-aged man wearing a shell-suit picked up his bag and made his way quickly out of the door.

Seated behind the desk was a woman in her late thirties with badly dyed hair. As Nelson approached her, she glanced up from her copy of Grazia and looked him up and down appreciatively.

‘One ticket, please,’ said Nelson, handing across a ten-pound note, and she rooted in her cash box to give him his change, along with a sticker with a number on it, Number 37, which he attached to his tunic.

A few dozen people were gathered in the hall, most standing awkwardly on their own, staring at their phones, and Nelson glanced at his watch. He’d timed his arrival thinking that proceedings would begin soon after he walked through the door and, perhaps because his clothing brought an air of authority into the room, a woman made her way towards the microphone stand and leaned into it, obeying the constitutional obligation to ask ‘Is this thing on?’ so close to the grille that she sent a stab of reverb around the room, causing everyone to rear back and cover their ears.

‘Can you hear me?’ she asked.

‘They can hear you, Alice,’ shouted the cashier, whose own name tag read Belinda. ‘So get on with it, you daft cow.’

‘Oh good,’ said Alice, beaming with joy. ‘Well, you’re all very welcome here tonight. Some of you have been here before – yes, I recognize you desperate people! – but some of you are new. All of you, I expect, are a little nervous, but I hope you’re excited too because’ – and here she raised her voice again – ‘tonight might be THE LAST NIGHT OF YOUR LIFE!’

Her face exploded in happiness and she broke into applause as the people gathered before her turned to look at each other in confusion, uncertain whether they had heard her correctly.