‘All right,’ I nodded, wincing as the person currently on stage didn’t quite make the high note Whitney had always managed so easily. ‘But that’s going to have to be the last one. It’s way past my bedtime.’

Joe nodded and rushed off with the list clasped tightly in his hand.

We’d started the evening off at the funfair where we’d been thrown about, shook up and then very nearly thrown up and I was relieved I’d worn jeans and a fancy top, rather than the LBD which was the second dress I had packed and had been my initial choice. After that, we’d eaten fish and chips out of paper on the beach, had a quick beer in a quintessentially English seaside pub and ended up in this gaudy, noisy and absolutely packed karaoke bar.

I now understood exactly why Sam hadn’t wanted this kind of entertainment for the Smuggler’s, but in this vibrant bucket-and-spade resort further along the coast, it was the perfect fit and everyone, including Joe and me, was having a great time. It felt good to forget about my troubles for a while and the evening was doing me just as much good as Joe.

‘We’re up next,’ he said as he rushed back, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the stage.

He’d had a few beers and I hoped he wasn’t going to feel the worse for them on the journey home. I hadn’t thought to bring a bucket.

‘Do you want to be Kiki or Elton?’ he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

‘Definitely Elton,’ I laughed, amused that he’d thought of the switch.

I had forgotten how good it felt to abandon my inhibitions and I was pleased I had offered to drive and therefore couldn’t drink. The evening was such fun, I wouldn’t have wanted to lose a second of it in a drink induced haze.

The applause was rapturous as we finished, Joe wrapped in a cerise pink feather boa – which by rights should have been mine as I was Elton – and me struggling to see through scratched star-shaped sunglasses which had clearly already seen plenty of stage action.

‘Always leave them wanting more,’ said Joe as we handed back our props and made for the exit. ‘That’s the expression, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is,’ I laughed, linking arms to stop him wandering off. ‘Come on, Kiki. The car’s this way.’

During the journey home Joe’s mood changed.

‘God, I don’t want to go back yet,’ he muttered, snuggling deeper into the heated seat. ‘Are you sure it’s hometime already?’

‘Afraid so,’ I told him, cutting the volume on the radio. ‘Are you that unhappy at the farm?’