‘I miss you on Laid In Essex!, Abs,’ someone called. ‘It’s not the same without you, are you going back on it?’

‘You never know.’ Abs winked. ‘Stranger things have happened. And anyway, me and Kelz have got unfinished business.’

‘You can get cheap digging equipment here, for the next time you go on a date,’ someone shouted, but Abs ignored the distasteful jibe.

‘Honestly, I’m over the moon to be here.’ He paced on the pavement, as if working the main stage at Glastonbury. ‘In one of the best towns in the whole world, in one of my favourite shops.’

He said a few more things about how proud he was to be there, and what good value QuidStore was, and then said he was going to cut the ribbon to officially open the shop. But the assistant manager shook his head because the photographer hadn’t turned up, so Abs said he’d sign autographs.

People crowded around. One girl had brought along a copy of his autobiography, called simply Abs, Mate! In truth, he’d had nothing to do with the writing of it. They hired this ghostwriter, a nice lady who had asked him lots of questions, teasing out the interesting facts of his life and career, and then turned it all into a book. What he had never told anyone was that, not being much of a reader, he hadn’t even read Abs, Mate! He took a moment to look at the cover now, with its embossed gold title and topless photo of him looking young and hot, taken by a top fashion photographer.

‘Blimey, I haven’t seen a copy of this for years,’ he told the girl. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘It was in the bargain bin at the charity shop. I bought it for 10p.’

Abs was about to sign it when he looked up to see the guy was still watching him at the back of the crowd. There was something about the look on his face – grim, almost threatening – that made Abs nervous. He definitely recognized him from somewhere.

Abs forced himself to pay attention to the girl. ‘What’s your name, love?’

‘It’s for my mum, Tracey.’

Abs scribbled:

To Tracy, Absolutly my gratest fan. Luv, Abs!!!! xxxxxxx

The girl frowned. ‘It’s Tracey with an “e”.’

‘Sorry about that.’ He shoved the book back at her just as his phone rang.

Abs felt a chill drop down his spine when he saw who it was: Tony. He gawped at it, thinking he wasn’t seeing straight. He hadn’t heard from Tony in three years, not since… what happened.

Neither of them had been in a hurry to speak to each other, not after the events of that night. So he knew that whatever Tony wanted to talk to him about was going to be important, and that whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it. But Abs couldn’t help himself, and he touched the screen of his old iPhone and cradled it between his shoulder and his ear while he continued to sign autographs.