Penny was nervous around him. Jumpy. She had all of these things she wanted to say but she wasn’t ready, yet, and Francesco could tell. So he didn’t push her, or goad her. He was patient, and it was an act of kindness Penny appreciated. He smiled at her often and occasionally lightly touched the small of her back, but otherwise let her arrive to her feelings in her own time. She knew he assumed she was finishing things with Priyesh, too, from the way he eyed up the bar area when he’d been in. He was basically being the perfect gentleman.

‘It gets rowdier than a rugby players’ changing room in here as it kicks off,’ Charlie had warned Penny as they set up. Penny was quite looking forward to it, though. It was nice to feel a surge in the sense of community. She might have missed London, but Stoke Newington never did a village event like this. Penny threw herself into it.

By 3 p.m. the pub was buzzing and a light shower had turned into heavier drizzle, so the bands had set up in a small sliver of space down by the bottom of Bar Four, near the fire. In a hurry, everyone had dismantled stalls and stands outside, and Penny had turned on the outdoor heaters so all the extra bodies could huddle under the shelter of the covered outdoor seating area, too. There were hundreds of people, and the rain was coming down heavier and heavier, but spirits were high and Penny was in the very best of moods. The high-spirits were catching.

‘Penny, love,’ one of the locals, Tim, said to her, a few hours into the celebration. ‘I don’t want to pry, duck, but it looks like the tiles over there on the outhouse are coming a cropper. You might want to get one of your lads to secure ’em down.’

Penny followed Tim’s eye to the dusky skyline of outside. She saw instantly what he meant. The wind had picked up with the rain, and if she didn’t get out there and secure the roof of the old coal store, it wouldn’t take long before there was no roof.

‘You’re right. Thanks, Tim.’

‘Here you are,’ Tim exclaimed, on the approach of Thomas. ‘This strapping young man will help you.’

‘I will!’ said Thomas, already quite drunk. And then, ‘Hello, you. Help with what?’

‘Those tiles,’ said Penny, pointing. ‘Do you mind? It won’t take long, I don’t think.’

‘Lead the way,’ Thomas said, downing the last two inches of his pint and handing the empty glass to Tim. ‘Next round is on you,’ Thomas said, to which Tim replied, ‘And which round was on you?’

Penny and Thomas weaved through the throng of people in the bar and outside, and as soon as they stepped out of the huddle and to the side of the building, the wind hit them.