‘Of course,’ he nodded. ‘Lovely to see you, anyway.’

He did a slight bow as he stepped away, which Penny mimicked before turning to Charlie and uttering in hushed tones, ‘That truly is a man with a stick up his arse.’

‘Bless him,’ said Charlie, already tipsy on a Champagne cocktail. ‘Let’s see if we can’t get him shit-faced, loosen him up a bit.’ They followed him, calling, ‘Priyesh! Where’s your drink! Let me top you up!’ At least Charlie could see the funny side of him being there. Penny made a mental note to avoid him, and gratefully accepted another shot from the pot-wash.

Penny wasn’t far off being drunk as the night wore on. She hadn’t lost control of herself by any stretch of the imagination, but she felt loose and free, happy to be amongst these new faces that were strangers at the start of the year and now the people she spent almost every waking minute with.

‘I trust you’re having a good night,’ a voice droned behind her, unexpectedly making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Priyesh. She turned around. Had he got cuter-er? Or was that the French 75’s she’d been downing? Either way, inexplicably she wasn’t sorry he’d found her.

‘Hello, squire,’ she said, not quite sure why she was calling him that, except to sort of take the mickey of his formalness. ‘Are you having an enjoyable evening?’

‘Not as enjoyable as I suspect yours is,’ Priyesh replied, acknowledging the empty glass in her hand. ‘But pleasant enough, of course.’

‘You don’t like my party?’ Penny asked, in a way that she intended to be sexy and provocative but, well – over the din of her merry staff and the live band, she couldn’t be sure she was succeeding.

‘Not at all, your party is most convivial,’ Priyesh replied. ‘Quite like the hostess.’

‘I’m not drunk,’ said Penny, defensively.

‘You must try harder, then,’ suggested Priyesh, nodding in that formal way he insisted on and walking off towards the loos. ‘I rather thought you’d be a bit more relaxed than you were an hour ago,’ he shouted as his parting shot, over his shoulder.

Penny stood and watched him go. Had he just been rude to her? She couldn’t tell. What a bastard if he had been, she thought. He was her guest! How dare he! What was it about pompous men that made them bring out the pompousness of everyone they interacted with? She followed him towards the back of the pub.

‘Hey!’ she said, as he went through the door into the seldom-used front porch. To the right was a locked front door, and to the left two other doors, the toilets.

‘Hello there,’ said Priyesh, cool as a cucumber. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course I’m okay,’ said Penny, primly.