The man frowned. ‘You made it sound like he’d be at sea for months, like it had to be tonight?’

‘It does have to be tonight,’ said Minnie. ‘If I don’t show him I can go out on New Year’s Eve, he’ll think I still believe in the jinx, and then maybe he won’t be able to love someone like that, someone scared and superstitious—’

‘The jinx?’ asked the man.

Minnie shrugged and gave a little shake of her head. ‘Bad things seem to happen to me on New Year’s Eve, so I usually try not to go out.’

‘What kind of bad things?’ The man narrowed his eyes at her from the other side of the cab.

‘Nothing particular, it just feels like I’m unlucky this time of year. Logically, it must be coincidence or—’

Before she could finish her sentence, the cab jerked into the air, throwing her into the man’s lap. The car screeched to a halt with an alarming crunching sound.

‘Gah! Sorry, are you OK?’ Minnie asked, as she found herself sprawled against him.

‘Tyre’s blown,’ the cab driver shouted back to them. ‘Are you all right?’

They both made noises that they were. Minnie felt her skin getting warmer and warmer as she realised the man’s rings were attached to her, an insect caught in her weird webbing top. They climbed out of the cab in conjoined crab-like unison and Minnie tried to untangle herself with as much dignity as possible.

The cab driver stood on the kerb inspecting the blown tyre. He gave a weary groan. ‘Looks like you’d best find another way of getting where you’re going.’

‘What were you saying about bad luck?’ groaned the man.

‘Coincidence,’ said Minnie.

They both stood awkwardly together on the pavement, and a few minutes later the man managed to hail another taxi.

‘Maybe we could—’ Minnie edged toward him hopefully.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t need your bad luck following me round tonight, lady.’

Minnie ran south. She could see the number eighteen bus pulling in ahead, if she could just get on that bus, if there could be no traffic on the roads, she might just make it. She had to try.

‘Wait, wait!’ she cried, willing the bus to pause a moment longer. Thankfully the driver waited and waved her on. He was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties, with a heavy beard and tattoos down both arms.

‘Oh thank you, thank you,’ she said, out of breath as she paid her fare.

‘Always room for one more,’ said the driver in a broad Scottish accent.

Minnie took a seat in the middle of the bus. She was definitely testing the limits of London’s transport network tonight.