‘Mona Lisa!’ I cried at him, over the din of the music and merriment. I pointed to a shadowy corner near the café we’d eaten at before, and his eye followed my finger as he understood.

It was good to get away from the noise. It was as if the volume had been turned up on the speakers to twice what it was, and what had been spacious and open had shrunk in size. I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my lungs and, leaning against the wall, put my back to the cool brick and hands to my hot thighs.

‘Do you need to sit down?’

Patrick. He’d followed me.

I shook my head feebly. ‘No, no,’ I insisted. ‘I’m only catching my breath.’

‘I could do with that too.’

He rested against the wall alongside me, first at a normal distance and then he shuffled along to be closer.

‘You good?’ he asked, and I knew the unsaid part of the question was: with the kiss?

‘Oh for sure,’ I said. ‘That was a bizarre little moment there wasn’t it! Ha-ha.’ I wasn’t looking at him; we were both fixed on a point in the distance. ‘I lost myself for a second. Heady with the thrills of holiday! Let’s not even talk about it. Honestly.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘If that’s—’

‘Obviously it is! My old pal Pongy Paddy!’

I sounded deranged, but preferred that than him having to solemnly take my hand and reject me explicitly. No way could I be in that position and survive. Not one bit. I was stronger, but I wasn’t that strong. I didn’t want it to be a thing, even if for one-tenth of a second I’d almost enjoyed it. That’s not what this was. I knew that. I did.

‘I don’t know about you,’ I said after a while. ‘But I’m ready to hit up that dance floor again. Shall we?’

‘If you’re feeling better.’

‘I’m feeling great,’ I insisted, already trotting off ahead, determinedly holding my head up high. ‘I might even put a request in. “Mustang Sally” should do the trick, don’t you think? These guys are really very good.’

We were too self-aware after that, and so lasted fifteen more minutes before I caught Patrick looking at his watch, and I told him I was ready to go if he wanted to leave.

‘Do you want to leave?’ he shouted over the music.

‘I want to do whatever you want to do,’ I yelled, affably.

‘It’s a yes or no question, Annie!’

His tone took me aback. He’d never snapped at me before.

‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘Sure! I want to go back!’