‘Thanks again for coming with me, Giles.’ I sat down on the bottom stair and pulled on a boot, as Giles bobbed and weaved his way out of the living room, desperately trying to avoid Anthony, as the latter alternately bounced up and then flopped down in his path.

It was the night of Bill’s gig and I was still feeling guilty about dragging Giles, not to mention two of his work colleagues, along with me. He had been an absolute rock for me over the past couple of months, keeping me focused on the positives in my life – not least my improving relationship with Cameron – and it didn’t feel great to be repaying that kindness by forcing him to endure three hours of Bill banging his bodhrán to a load of Eighties classics.

‘No problem, I’m actually really looking forward to it,’ he said, so brightly that I almost believed him. ‘But I wonder if I should just take a quick peek at the Eldon House website to see if it allows dogs…’ he added in a murmur, a statement which caused Anthony to sit bolt upright and wag his tail furiously.

‘Even if they do, do you think he’d be OK with the noise?’ I asked doubtfully. ‘Remember what Kerry said happened when he was in her kitchen and Harry suddenly turned the volume on the radio up to max?’

Giles pursed his lips. ‘Excellent point,’ he sighed, bending down and picking up the little dog. ‘I’m sorry, Anthony, but we just can’t risk a toilet-time accident in the pub, can we? Let’s pop you in your bed.’

I reached for my other boot and was just zipping it up when he reappeared, closing the back-room door behind him.

‘Have you arranged to meet your friends at a certain time?’ I asked, as he walked past me to the vestibule and unhooked his waxed jacket.

He shook his head. ‘I just said we’d be there from seven. It’s not a huge place, so I’m sure we’ll spot them.’

‘And their names are Joe and Florence? Is that right?’

He peered into the hallway mirror and ruffled his hair. ‘I know this jacket has seen better days, but how about the rest of me? Do I look gig-appropriate?’ He glanced down at his jeans and then turned towards me, pulling open the jacket in flasher-fashion to reveal a grey V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt.

‘Gig-appropriate?’

‘I am aiming for a little more casual than usual with the T-shirt. But now I’m not so sure it’s entirely me.’

‘Well, I think it’s very you – especially the new gym-honed you,’ I said, looking up at him approvingly. ‘But you’re not on the pull, are you? It’d be so much easier to ask Nicky for her friend’s number. She offered it to you weeks ago.’

‘Funny you should say that.’