But Marlon wasn’t a bit like that. There was nothing cocksure about him. He made me laugh by putting himself rather than others down, he wore clothes that most people would probably leave out for the charity shop and he had red hair! Yet there was something about him, a deeper confidence, a kind of self-assurance that wasn’t showy or forced. After all, hadn’t he kissed me with absolutely no come-on from me whatsoever? He’d just chanced a kiss and it had paid off. Now that I found highly attractive, or so it seemed, despite everything.

There was no point getting excited, though. It would probably turn out to be a one-off. It was totally impractical to start a relationship with a man who lived so far away (not that I knew exactly where he lived) when I didn’t have a car. I didn’t even want a relationship, I told myself. I was happy as I was. Life was simple and uncomplicated and that was how I liked it.

No matter how many times I told myself this, however, up Marlon popped in my mind like one of those moles in the fairground game. Each time I bashed him down with my little wooden mallet, he just reappeared somewhere else. And that kiss. I didn’t actually want to forget that.

In the end, I had to conclude that there were worse problems in life than having Marlon in my head. We’d had fun, the two of us. He made me laugh and he’d promised to draw me, which he wouldn’t be able to do if I never saw him again. I wasn’t committing myself to anything here. I didn’t even need to tell Clio if I didn’t want to, but if things all lined up I could think of worse things than spending a bit more time with him.

Right now, though, I had other things to think about. Clio had arranged a date for me and now I had fixed something for her in return. I was surprised how fantastic it felt to have done something good for another person. I just hoped that she would enjoy her adventure as much as I’d enjoyed mine.

‘I’m not sure I totally understand,’ Clio said down the phone later that day, when I rang to explain what I’d done. ‘You’ve got me a job? In Whitley Bay?’

‘Yup,’ I said.

‘As a barmaid?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘In an actual pub?’

I could feel my confidence slipping with each question. What had seemed like a brilliant idea first thing this morning was feeling much less clever now. There was a pause as Clio took in what I’d told her. I only realised that I was chewing at my lip as I waited for her to react when I tasted blood on my tongue. I stopped chewing.

‘Starts on Monday?’ I added doubtfully.