In the event, only Sheelagh came with us to The Anchor.

‘We’re really tired,’ said Bella, with a pointed look at Ollie that he could hardly argue with, while Jane and Dennis apparently had a ‘date night’ scheduled (I didn’t want to think about what that involved).

‘My nephew can’t be trusted on his own in there,’ said Mr Flannery, before hotfooting it back the newsagent’s, though I suspected he mostly wanted to keep a lovelorn eye on Ruby.

Barry melted into the night, without bothering to make an excuse, and Councillor Finch pleaded an appointment with his chiropodist for an ingrown toenail, which made Ollie look slightly nauseous.

‘I can’t believe there’s only us,’ Ollie said, as we launched into the pub after a short walk across to the harbour, during which he’d challenged Craig to build a sandcastle – tersely declined – and asked Erin again what she’d thought of his performance.

‘Hardly Oscar-worthy,’ she’d said, rolling her eyes at me.

On arrival at the pub, Sheelagh tripped on her cloak and Ollie offered her his arm, which she gripped with obvious delight.

‘At least you’ve got me,’ Sheelagh flirted.

‘Ah, my lovely Loretta,’ Ollie flirted back, while Erin pretended to gag.

The pub was modern but cosy, with a separate restaurant, and a bar area where a log-fire was blazing and a densely decorated Christmas tree sparkled in the corner.

It was early, and most people were still enjoying the festivities in the square, but the restaurant was busy with office parties, and the bar vibrated with piped Christmas music and the sound of people enjoying a drink.

‘Barry’s cooking a candlelit dinner tonight,’ Sheelagh said, as we squeezed onto a leather banquette around a wooden-topped table, while Ollie went to the bar with Craig to order ‘champers’. ‘He always cooks on Fridays,’ she added, eyes darting to me and away again. She was either making an excuse for him, hoping I’d forgotten she’d doorstepped me, or hadn’t forgiven me for giving her beloved Ollie a nosebleed the night before. ‘He can be very thoughtful,’ she went on, as though daring me to argue. ‘He would have come with us, but…’ He doesn’t like Ollie. The unspoken words hung in the air.

‘It’s fine,’ I said. I was relieved he wasn’t there.

Erin removed her coat to reveal a tight, high-waisted skirt, which accentuated her curves, and a baby-blue cropped sweater. I felt like the Beast to her Beauty in my jeans and sweatshirt, and decided to keep my parka on.

‘Isn’t Barry upset at not winning?’ I said to Sheelagh.

Erin shot me a look of surprise as she sat down.

‘Oh, he loves taking part, that’s the main thing,’ Sheelagh replied. ‘And all the bantering with Clint.’ I couldn’t think who she meant for a moment, and suspected he’d always be Mr Flannery to me. ‘They’re like a pair of boxers squaring up,’ she added, confirming Doris’s theory. ‘It’ll all be forgotten, until next year.’ She gave a honk of laughter and slipped her cloak off. ‘Here come the drinkies!’

Ollie plonked down a tray of half-filled glasses with a flourish, and wedged himself next to Erin. ‘I’ve ordered a bottle, it’ll be over in a minute,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘In the meantime, here’s to our last night in Shipley.’

‘Oh.’ Sheelagh gave a heartfelt sigh. She picked up a glass and drained it in one go. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she said.

‘You’ll be the only one.’ Ollie looked suddenly crushed. ‘I think I’ve ballsed things up a bit, truth be told,’ he said. ‘Seem to have put everyone’s backs up.’

‘They’re not used to people like you.’ Sheelagh leaned across Erin to pat his hand.

‘I’m not used to people like them,’ he admitted. ‘It’s been a learning curve.’

‘Really?’ I said.

‘Yah.’ He pushed his hair back. ‘I’ve learnt I’m never doing these kinds of public engagements again.’

‘Hallelujah!’ Craig said, lifting his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ He’d positioned himself beside me and I was aware of his thigh inches from mine, and as Erin’s accusation spun through my mind I couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t said anything.

The waiter hurried over with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket and placed it by the table. ‘Could I have a selfie?’ he said shyly to Ollie, who – for once – looked reluctant.

‘Sure,’ he said gamely, and we endured an excruciating few minutes as the waiter fiddled with his phone, trying to get the pose right and taking several shots ‘for luck’, his arm braced firmly around Ollie’s shoulders.

‘Gay,’ Ollie whispered when he’d gone. ‘A lot of my fans are.’ He sloshed more champagne into our glasses, even though he and Sheelagh appeared to be the only ones drinking. ‘Might as well get piddled,’ he said, slumping against Erin and pulling a sad face. She shoved him away, clearly trying to maintain a professional agent/client relationship, even though Ollie kept trying to take hold of her hand.

‘So, what’s next for you, Ollie?’ Sheelagh had gone a little cross-eyed after emptying another glass of champagne. ‘I know!’ She held up a finger. ‘You should go back to Players.’ She made it sound like a brilliant and original idea.

‘I’m never going back there,’ he said, as though he’d worked in an office on a charmless industrial estate. ‘I’m on a new career path, lovely Loretta.’

‘Well, I’m sure whatever you do, it’ll work out for you.’ She stood up, bosom straining at the material of her ruffled, leopard-print top. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to powder my nose,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why people say that.’ She swayed a little. ‘I’m actually going for a wee.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to Ollie. ‘Have I shared too much?’

‘Don’t mind me,’ he said. ‘Have a number two, on me.’

‘Ew,’ said Erin, and punched his arm.

Sheelagh’s face turned puce. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said.

Once she’d hurried off, Ollie angled a look at Erin. ‘Why do you keep glaring at Craig like that?’

She gave a guilty start. ‘Like what?’

‘Like you want to hurt him.’

Craig shifted uneasily, a mix of dread and resignation washing over his face.

My heart started to race. This wasn’t the place for a confrontation. ‘Erin…’ I began.

‘Are you going to tell him, or shall I?’ she said to Craig, colour suffusing her normally creamy cheeks.

‘Tell me what?’ Ollie was looking between them with deepening suspicion. ‘You two…’ he waved a hand between them, eyes widening. ‘Oh god, please tell me you’re not—’

‘No, we’re bloody not,’ said Erin, slapping his hand down. ‘For Christ’s sake, Ollie, I barely know him and, anyway…’ She took a breath. ‘It’s not me he’s been messing about with.’

I had a feeling she hadn’t really meant to say it and felt an unexpected surge of pity for Craig. Whatever had happened with Tattie was obviously over, and he must have been dreading Ollie finding out. Was that why he’d been so keen for them to get away? Had he been protecting himself, as much as Ollie?

‘What’s she talking about, Craggers?’ Ollie looked from one of us to the other, his brow furrowed. ‘What’s going on, mate?’

Craig fiddled with the stem of his glass. It was the sort of flute I’d seen on the clip of Players and it looked too dainty in his hand. ‘Can we do this somewhere else?’ he said, quietly.

‘Oh, come on, you can’t leave me hanging.’ Ollie looked at me.

Oh heck. ‘I—’

‘Tattie and Craig slept together,’ Erin said baldly, and I experienced a moment’s surprise that she was pushing this to its inevitably ugly conclusion. Was it to do with her own nasty break-up, and not wanting to see someone else get hurt? But that didn’t make any sense. Why bring it up at all? ‘She cheated on you, with your best friend.’

‘Craig?’ Ollie looked at Erin for confirmation.

‘Of course, Craig, you idiot,’ she snapped. She was being incredibly rude to him, under the circumstances. ‘How many best friends have you got?’

There was a burst of raucous carol-singing from the restaurant, overlaying the chink of cutlery and loud chatter from another table, but it couldn’t drown out the pounding in my ears as I waited for the penny to drop.

Ollie gave a shout of laughter. ‘This has to be a joke, right?’ He directed the words at Craig, who looked like he wanted to be sick. ‘That’s what this is about?’

Erin and I glanced at each other.

‘It’s not true,’ Craig said, stiffly. ‘Tattie tried it on with me, but I would never—’

‘Of course you wouldn’t.’ Ollie’s face twisted with concern. ‘You’re my friend.’

Craig looked thrown, as if this wasn’t the response he’d envisaged. ‘I never even fancied her,’ he said, warily. ‘That was the problem, really. When I turned her down, she said if I told you she’d say I made a pass at her.’

Ollie gave a snort. ‘As if I’d have believed that.’

‘But… she said Craig had a freckle on his…’ Erin lowered her voice. ‘On his willy.’

Our eyes dropped to Craig’s crotch, as if it might be visible through his jeans. ‘How else would she have known if—’

‘Because I told her, once,’ cried Ollie, making us jump. ‘I’d had too much to drink, and we were talking about birthmarks in weird places – don’t ask me why – and I mentioned you had this freckle on your peen.’

‘Don’t say peen,’ said Erin, at the same time as I said, ‘How do you know he has a freckle?’

Craig squirmed in his seat. ‘I might have told him once, for a laugh, when we were kids, Christ knows why, it’s not even true,’ he said. ‘I can show you if you like.’

‘Er, no, mate, thanks for offering,’ said Ollie. ‘I can’t believe you lied about it.’

‘I can’t believe you told Tattie,’ Craig countered.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter if it’s not true and, anyway, it proves she was lying,’ Ollie said. ‘Not that I needed proof.’

Craig didn’t sleep with Tattie. The words sent a spiral of warmth through me that had nothing to do with wearing too many layers in a pub with a roaring log-fire. ‘But why tell Erin?’ I said.

‘And why aren’t you mad as hell?’ Erin turned to face Ollie. ‘I thought you were crazy in love with the silly bitch.’

‘Of course I’m not.’ He looked genuinely horrified. ‘Yes, I had a fling with her, but it was to make someone else jealous. Tattie fell for me in a big way – obviously – but when she realised I didn’t feel the same she started this silly campaign to make me jealous, and when that didn’t work she got me thrown off the show.’

‘If you weren’t jealous, why hit whatsisname?’ I said.

Ollie shrugged, leaning against the banquette, one arm along the back, as if discussing his plans for Christmas. ‘I never liked that idiot, Cuttlingtonson. He deserved to be punched, and I suppose it was a way of forcing things to change. I was pretty much done with Players. I’m too old for all that bull-crap.’

‘So, why do you think Tattie went to Erin?’ Craig said. I hadn’t realised how pale he’d been until I noticed some colour had returned to his face.

Ollie shrugged again. ‘She phoned me the other day, pleading with me to come back to her, saying she could get me my job back, and when I said no and told her why, she lost the plot and said she’d slept with you, and I guess she wanted to make trouble—’

‘She said that?’ Craig’s glass slammed down on the table. ‘And you didn’t think to mention it?’

‘What’s to mention?’ Ollie seemed puzzled. ‘I knew she was lying, so I didn’t bother you with it.’

‘But didn’t you think Craig might have been worried?’ I said.

‘I didn’t know she’d made a move on you, bro.’ He gave Craig a hard look. ‘You should have told me in the first place.’

‘How could I?’ Concern creased Craig’s brow. ‘You were moping around like a lovesick puppy. I thought if I told you she’d tried to… seduce me, it might push you over the edge.’

‘I’d have known it wasn’t true,’ Ollie said fondly. ‘Mates before dates, right?’

‘Right.’ Craig gave a reluctant grin.

‘Christ,’ said Erin. ‘It sounds like you two should be sleeping together.’

‘That’s gross,’ said Ollie. ‘Though to be fair, he probably does fancy the pants off me.’

‘In your dreams,’ said Craig, who looked like a weight had been hoisted off his shoulders. ‘You’re not my type.’

I still couldn’t quite make sense of it all. ‘But why did Tattie tell Erin?’

‘Yes, why did she tell me?’ said Erin. ‘I feel like a total bitch now, accusing Craig like that.’ She winced at him. ‘Sorry, by the way.’

‘No worries.’ He lifted his glass in a toast. ‘But, yeah, why did she tell you?’

‘It’s because of what I said when she called.’ Ollie spoke as if we should know what he was on about. ‘She knew Erin would come down and confront Craig, and probably hoped it would make trouble between us, and that I’d hate Erin for telling me the so-called “truth”.’

‘Sounds a bit far-fetched,’ I said. ‘What on earth did you tell her when she called that would make her go to those lengths?’

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘That it’s you I’m in love with.’

‘WHAT?’ I yelped.

‘Sorry.’ He flipped his eyes from me to Erin. ‘I meant you.’

‘What?’ she hissed. ‘Are you out of your tiny mind?’

‘Erin, you know I’m crazy about you.’

Craig and I gave each other gobsmacked looks.

‘Ollie, for god’s sake, you don’t mean it,’ Erin said. ‘Just because we slept together once—’

‘Slept together?’ I gaped at her. ‘You said you’d kissed, not slept together.’

‘Yeah, well. It wasn’t something I wanted to admit to.’ Erin picked up her glass, her hand shaking. ‘I didn’t want to be one of those girls. Plus, he’s my client.’

‘Bit late for that,’ I said.

‘You never said a word.’ Craig sounded shell-shocked. ‘So much for mates.’

‘Look, I was embarrassed she’d knocked me back,’ Ollie admitted, looking shame-faced and a bit sweaty around the hairline. ‘It’s never happened to me before.’

‘You need to get over yourself,’ muttered Erin.

‘She won’t believe I’m genuine,’ he said, stroking her beret. She jerked away, giving him a furious glare. ‘See? I’ve been trying to think of a way to win her over and thought agreeing to do this show might be a start.’

‘You tried to kiss Lily, for Christ’s sake,’ she blasted. ‘How was that trying to win me over, you… tosser?’

‘It was for the one-off show,’ said Ollie, earnestly. ‘I mean, Lily’s a wonderful girl, and absolutely gorgeous, but it didn’t mean anything.’

‘I wasn’t interested anyway,’ I said, trying and failing to locate some outrage at his nicely worded dismissal.

‘You do know there won’t be a one-off show?’ said Craig, with the air of someone throwing all their cards on the table. ‘You kept being Ollie Matheson from Players and I think you need to get away from that.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Craig.’ Erin pressed her fingers into Ollie’s forearm in an unconsciously protective gesture. ‘Was that really your decision to make?’

For a second, I thought Ollie was finally going to erupt. He bowed his head and seemed in the grip of a strong emotion, then I realised he was overcome by the sight of Erin’s hand on his arm. ‘I’m glad,’ he said finally, raising his eyes to Craig. ‘You were looking out for me.’

Craig gave a slightly exhausted laugh. ‘I was, but if you’d like to do another show, I’ll—’

‘No.’ Ollie turned to Erin, and took both her hands in his. ‘I’m going to be a director,’ he said. ‘And I’m firing you as my agent.’

Sheelagh chose that moment to reappear, her lipstick renewed and her curls loosened, as if she’d been running her fingers through them.

‘What have I missed?’ she said, and looked baffled when Craig replied, ‘Where to start?’

‘Well, I hope you weren’t talking about me.’ She sat back down and looked around expectantly.

‘Oh look, it’s our newest resident, having a lovely time with her boyfriend,’ said a carping voice. It was Annabel, with her embarrassed looking husband and another couple wearing tinsel garlands round their necks. ‘Planning to start a fight in the street tonight?’ she said, to me. ‘Is that what you’re used to where you come from?’ She flashed a dimpled smile at Craig. ‘Hi, lovely.’

‘Annabel,’ he said, without any warmth this time.

‘What a bitch,’ Erin muttered.

‘Why don’t you wind your neck in, as Nanny used to say?’ Ollie’s imperious voice created a ripple among the group.

‘Ooh, he had a nanny,’ sniped Annabel. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

‘Leave him alone.’ My voice emerged, surprisingly strong and clear.

‘I could say the same to you, my lovely.’

Suddenly, I’d had enough. It was like being in the classroom all over again, being insulted by Max’s wife when I hadn’t done anything wrong. ‘Firstly, Ollie isn’t my boyfriend,’ I said, standing up on shaky legs. ‘But even if he was, we’re both single, so we wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, or hurting anybody.’ My cheeks felt scalded but I kept going. ‘Secondly, why are you having a go at me? Women always attack other women, and I’m sick of it,’ I said. ‘And thirdly…’ I faltered. What was the third thing? ‘Thirdly, I come from the same place as you.’ She screwed her face up, ready to protest. ‘It’s called The Planet,’ I said. ‘And you need to stop making out that I think I’m better than anyone here, because I don’t.’

‘You’re better than her,’ Craig said, as I dropped back down. ‘You OK?’ he murmured.

I nodded. ‘Yes, actually, I am.’

Erin reached over and closed her hand over mine. ‘Nice burn,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you.’

‘Bravo!’ Ollie started a slow handclap and a few people joined in before going back to their drinks.

Sheelagh looked at Annabel, her eyebrows lifted. ‘I think some of you need to open your minds a bit,’ she said, and I could see it had cost her to take my side against her long-standing neighbour, who was glaring as though Sheelagh had just betrayed her country. ‘Now, go away because I want to make the most of this lovely young man before he leaves us tomorrow.’

Annabel looked like she swallowed a cupful of bleach. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured to Craig, but he wouldn’t look at her.

‘Miss Ambrose!’ Alfie Blake pushed past Annabel, who had no choice but to scuttle away with her clearly embarrassed entourage, stumbling a little in her heels. ‘I thought I recognised your voice,’ he said, beaming. ‘We was just ’aving our Christmas party, Dad’s treat,’ he said, sweeping an arm towards the restaurant. His cheeks were rosier than ever, his curls squashed beneath a floppy Santa hat, his baggy grey suit replaced with a Christmas jumper bearing a cross-eyed reindeer. ‘Jill Edwards called me and said I could give a talk to Year Five in the New Year.’

‘That’s great,’ I said, tears leaping to my eyes. It had been an emotionally draining evening and it was barely eight o’clock. ‘You’ll be great.’

‘I’m going to do a Powerpoint display.’ His big hands smoothed his sweater. ‘Thanks. You know. For having a word.’

‘My pleasure.’

As he headed off, Sheelagh beamed at me. ‘Good girl,’ she said, and, although it was silly to care, I was glad to be back in her good books. ‘Now, I’m going to make a move or Barry’s Beef Wellington will be overdone.’

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ said Craig, scrambling to his feet as Ollie rose to help Sheelagh on with her cloak.

Disappointment flooded through me. ‘But it’s your last night,’ I protested. It felt as if there was more to talk about, and now the air had been cleared I was in the mood for a drink. ‘Are you coming back?’

‘I’m pretty shattered,’ he said, not quite meeting my eyes. ‘Would you mind if I had a shower and something to eat at yours?’

Why wasn’t he looking at me? ‘Sure,’ I said flatly, taking my keys out of my bag and handing them over.

‘How are we going to get back?’ said Ollie.

‘I’ve got my car, you twat.’ Erin swiped his shoulder. She couldn’t seem to stop touching him, albeit in a slightly belligerent manner. ‘Why do you think I’m not drinking?’

‘You are staying tonight?’ I said.

‘She’d better be.’ There was a glint in Ollie’s eye. ‘There’s plenty of room in my bed.’

‘Only if I can sleep with you,’ Erin said to me.

‘Of course you can.’

Sheelagh swooped to gather Ollie in a hug, her cloak enveloping him like a crow’s wing as she planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Oops.’ She swiped at the lipstick imprint with her thumb, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘Better do a matching one.’ Ollie proffered his other cheek and Sheelagh didn’t hold back. For a ridiculous moment, I could have sworn that Erin looked jealous.

Sheelagh finally joined Craig, who was standing by the table with his camera in one hand, keys jangling from the other, as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

‘Nice to meet you, love.’ Sheelagh smiled at Erin. ‘You’d make a lovely girlfriend for Ollie.’

‘What did she say that for?’ said Erin, as Craig opened the door to let Sheelagh through. I thought he might look back or give me a wave – something – but he disappeared without another glance. ‘I’m nobody’s girlfriend.’

‘Not yet,’ murmured Ollie.

‘Must have been tough for him, wondering when Tattie was going to unleash her accusation,’ Erin said, watching the pub door swing shut. ‘What a good guy, though. I like him.’

If she was trying to prompt a response, she’d be disappointed. I couldn’t muster more than a non-committal ‘Mmm’ as I splashed champagne into my glass. If Ollie hadn’t been there I’d have turned the tables and asked her about sleeping with him, but he was gazing emotionally at the exit, as if the ghost of Craig was standing there. ‘He’s the absolute bloody best. I love that guy.’

‘Oh god,’ said Erin, but although she flicked her eyes up, I could tell she wasn’t serious. They’d shuffled a bit closer together, but just as I felt loneliness descending she fixed her bright blue eyes on me and said, ‘Now, tell us how you’re getting on with your writing.’

‘Ooh, yes, do tell,’ said Ollie, properly interested. For once, he wasn’t looking around to see if anyone had recognised him, or bursting into song, and although his trumpet was nestled in its case beneath the table, he didn’t seem in any hurry to get it out.

Erin was good for him, I realised, and he brought out a protective side in her I’d never seen before. It was just a pity that she was too stubborn to see it.