Minnie woke up feeling disorientated, her throat painfully dry. She remembered banging on the door for hours, but then she must have fallen asleep. She had no concept of what time it was. It was quiet outside, the music no longer playing. She got to her feet, rubbing at the crick in her neck.

‘Hello, hello! Can someone let me out?’ she called.

What if everyone had gone home and the place was shut for the night? She’d read stories about this kind of thing; people being stuck in toilets for days before they were rescued, people who drank cistern water to survive and wove blankets out of toilet roll to keep warm. How long would she have to be trapped before she resorted to eating the soap? She banged on the door again, this time with more urgency.

‘Help! Help me!’

‘Hello?’ came a man’s voice.

‘Yes, hello! Oh, thank god. The door handle is broken, I can’t get out,’ she called through the door.

‘How long have you been in there?’ said the voice, rattling the handle from the other side.

‘Long enough,’ Minnie said.

‘OK, hold on, I’ll go find someone,’ said the voice. She heard footsteps walking away. She couldn’t believe Greg hadn’t come to find her. Had he gone home without her? Three or four minutes later the voice returned.

‘OK, I’m back. I have Luis here. He’s got a thousand keys in his hand.’

‘I don’t know how this happened,’ came another voice, an older man. Minnie heard keys being rattled in the lock.

‘Here, let me try,’ said the first voice. More clinking of keys and then the door swung open. ‘Look at that, first key and I nailed it. What are the chances?’

Minnie squinted into the light of the corridor. The voice belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy-coloured hair and distinctive eyebrows a shade darker than the hair on his head. He grinned at Minnie, a warm, guileless smile. He was dressed in formal black trousers and a crisp white shirt. A black bow tie hung undone around his open collar, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin. Next to him stood a short, rotund bald man with a blank expression.

‘What time is it?’ Minnie asked, looking between the two men.

‘Seven forty-five,’ said the man in black tie.

‘In the morning?’ Minnie asked, aghast.

‘I’ll go now,’ said the shorter man, taking back the huge pile of keys and plodding off down the corridor muttering to himself.

‘A man of very few words,’ said the man in black tie.

Minnie followed him along the corridor back to the main room. The place was empty. Tendrils of party popper paper hung from the light fittings, and an army of half-empty champagne flutes lined the bar.

‘Am I the only one left? I can’t believe I slept that long.’