‘Piss off, Palin.’ Then she slumped back against the seat. ‘Yeah, I know. Even though I knew what route he’d take – I did know that, Belles, you’ve got to give me that? – it might have been a bit “needle, let me introduce you to haystack”.’

Bella laughed and stretched out her arm to squeeze Poppy’s shoulder.

‘No worries, lovey, that’s all hypothetical now, isn’t it? We’re nearly there now.’

Lars looked at Bella again from his rear-view mirror and smiled.

It had been touch and go at times, but it seemed like the girls’ friendship was back on track.

‘I cannot stand talking to him a moment longer,’ said the formerly chatty barman. ‘Jeez, I feel like I know his beautiful blonde wife better than I know my own.’

‘No worries.’ Pablo grinned from behind his enormous moustache. ‘I have brought in a distraction. If my little niece Juanita does not distract him, then the man is beyond hope.’ He staggered slightly and wheedled, ‘Tequila, please, amigo?’

On cue, Juanita slinked into La Hacienda, turning every male head in the joint. At the grand old age of 19, she had been fully aware of her effect on the opposite sex for at least three years, and dressed to accentuate her youthful attributes in tiny denim miniskirts and strappy vest tops that showed off her slender dusky limbs and bouncing bosom. Shiny black hair snaked all the way down to her waist and large dark eyes sparkled with mischief in a heart-shaped face.

Following her uncle’s instructions, she danced over to where Damian was sitting, and slumped against the bar. Giggling and talking incessantly, she climbed up onto his lap, as he tried to work out what the fuck she was on about.

‘Ayayayayayayayy!’ she finished, tossing back her black shiny mane and laughing up into his face.

‘Ayayayayayyayay, to you too!’ he eventually managed, laughing back at her. Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous, he thought, as she snuggled up to him like a playful little kitten, practically purring as she writhed about on his lap.

Thanks (partly) to his dark good looks, Damian hadn’t been short of female attention during the course of his road trip, but he had been too caught up in his self-pitying melancholy to take any of the various hookers and good-time girls up on their offers. Besides, he’d have lost the moral high ground. Even if Poppy never knew, he knew that he would know, and that would pretty much nullify his enormously high dudgeon.

But he was starting to get just a teensy bit bored with high dudgeon.

‘Cómo te llamas? What is your name, handsome man? Your skin, it is the same colour like mine …’

The gorgeous little thing put her arm against Damian’s, and he realized, with a moment of what felt like clarity, but was probably just lust, that she was right. He had always liked the contrast of his skin against Poppy’s, but maybe that was stupid; maybe it was time for him to be with somebody whose skin resembled his own …