Although I’d had to seek permission to come today.

‘Work is so full-on, Rexie, and Ceci needs cheering up.’ I’d plied him with another four-pack of that turquoise-canned craft beer from Marcus’s mate’s brewery, purring into his ear with the unspoken promise of something I didn’t plan to fulfil later in the bedroom, because, frankly, I’d rather watch the end of Outlander.

Honestly, I thought, descending for a quick pee behind a rhododendron bush wildly festooned with purple flowers, I’d really messed up. Last night’s rendezvous had been curtailed again because Rex had texted to say he was coming home early before his ‘boys weekend’ – golfing in Surrey with his union mates – and I’d had to show how pleased I was.

Cautiously crouching over some nettles, I reminded myself I’d come to support Ruby.

Except. That wasn’t even true.

If I was honest with myself, the real reason was to give Cecilia and I a break.

A tall man emerged from behind the undergrowth on the other path, pushing a road bike.

‘Oh!’ I stood up again so quickly I felt faint, pulling down my skirt. ‘Hi.’

‘Sorry, I…’ He paused, hand on the handlebars, staring more closely at me. ‘Aha. We meet again!’

Light-headed, I clutched a tree trunk for support. ‘I don’t think so.’ If my head would stop spinning though, it might be true I recognised him from somewhere.

‘You all right there?’ At least he’d thought better of offering his hand, given the circumstances.

‘Fine.’ I glowered, wishing heartily he’d go away. ‘Thank you.’

‘OK.’ He began to push his bike away, and then stopped again. ‘You live on the corner, right?’

‘If you say so.’ I stared at him, his face slowly falling into place. The stranger from the square I’d met briefly last month, at midnight. He of the flinty eyes and razor-sharp accent. Fintan. Fin.

He must have read my mind finally because, with a grin, he headed off, towards the campsite. ‘See you.’

Slowly, I exhaled.

‘By the way’ – Fin turned at the bend in the path and pointed at my feet – ‘you might need those later. It’s bound to get colder.’

I glanced down.

Adequately covered by my skirt or not, my pants were round my ankles. A respectable enough pair, thank God, and rather of the Bridget Jones ilk, but still very much underwear.

‘There they are!’ I said brightly, bending to pull them up with as much dignity as I could muster. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere.’

Ruby

By 9 p.m., everyone was stuffed full of either burgers or vegan hotpot, courtesy of Rebekah Hobbit-hands, and my head was absolutely spinning.

She hadn’t stopped talking or drinking since she arrived, and then the cheerful Australian, Lena Nair, zoomed up on the back of her husband Ish’s motorbike. Lena was as fetching as the heroine in Top Gun in her leathers, set off nicely by Ish, an undeniably attractive man.

‘Bit of old school, yeah?’ In tandem, the Nairs jumped off the shiny bike, Lena opening a bag to display a collection of house-music cassettes. ‘If anyone fancies a bit of a dance later!’