“Maybe if the Lord of The Manor stopped allowing sleepovers in his fucking bed, we wouldn’t have this fucking problem.”

I can’t hold back my curled lip. “Fuck you,” I spit, stalking past him, waiting for a dig to my ribs.

“I’ll let that slide, since you’re obviously not yourself these days.”

Myself? Who the fuck am I, anyway? I keep my attention forward and immediately wish I hadn’t. Coral falls out of the bar, literally, and makes a beeline for me, throwing herself into my arms. I have no choice but to catch her or leave her falling face-first to the floor. “You’re here,” she slurs, and I look down at the back of her head incredulously where it’s buried in my chest, her body limp and heavy. “I missed you.”

I inch round with Coral hanging off my front to find John, my face undoubtedly expressing my disbelief. It’s morning and she’s plastered. John just shrugs and walks off. He’s not seriously leaving me to handle this? “Wanker,” I mutter, virtually dragging her back into the bar. “You need to go home, Coral.” I negotiate her useless form onto one of the chairs, resting my hand on her shoulder to stop her from tumbling off as I pull out my phone.

“Mike wouldn’t let me.” She drops her head back, looking up at me. “And I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk.” Have I ever stated something so obvious?

“I’m not drunk.” She reaches up and clumsily tucks her hair behind her ears, straightening her slumped body. It’s a feeble attempt to convince me she’s sober. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so rat-arsed. It’s ugly. “Where have you been?” She tries to focus on me, blinking. “You’re never here anymore. Why?”

I laugh under my breath and dial Sarah, mentally praying she doesn’t let me down. It goes to voicemail, and I curse as I dial again. Nothing. “For fuck’s sake.” I lean as far as I can, trying to see outside the bar when I hear footsteps. I spot Drew coming down the stairs fastening his tie, and I frown. Fuck me, in my absence this place really has turned into a hotel. “Oi,” I call, and he looks up. His face twists. “Some help?”

His eyes fall to Coral, his face twists more, and he carries on his way. “Fuck you,” he calls back, and my mouth falls open.

“I’ll revoke your membership!” I yell, shifting quickly to catch Coral when she slips farther down the chair, dozing off.

“Fine by me,” Drew yells. “I don’t share my fucking space with dickhead estate agents who steal my business.”