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Yvette drew him down for a sexy, showy snog before laughing and leading him from the dance floor, through the velvet ropes and into the VIP area, her flimsy, barely-there skirt swishing back and forth around her legs. He bloody loved it when she was like this.

‘Gasping for a smoke, babe. Let’s go outside.’ He flung his arm around her shoulders and they sashayed to the roof garden. An area even more exclusive than the already exclusive, velvet-roped and attentively staffed VIP stage in this eye-wateringly expensive club — at least it was for other people.

‘I’m so glad you’re not in jail, babe.’ She lit her cigarette off his. ‘I don’t think I could have stood it if you’d been locked up. Even just thinking about it made me so sad I had to spend a month in the Oasis Serenity spa just to recover. I had to have my Botox topped up early. It nearly gave me wrinkles!’

‘But your friend Jean — the one you texted me about — cheered you up, right?’

‘Of course.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Anyway, aren’t you glad I came back?’

‘Of course. I did miss you.’ He squeezed her fondly. ‘And you look stunning, as always.’

‘Awww, thank you, baby. Some new designer. Can’t pronounce the name, of course, but it’s exposure, innit?’ She pouted before grinding out her stub with a heel so high he didn’t know how she walked in them. Still, it did put her boobs at a great height for his enjoyment. And it was pretty clear, from his vantage point, that she hadn’t restricted them for the night.

‘So, was it a nice lady judge? Did you give her one of your smiles to get off scot-free?’

‘Erm. Not exactly, no.’

‘Meaning what?’ She pouted into the phone again.

‘Meaning I didn’t exactly get off scot-free. I’ve got to pay for the damage. And I lost my licence for a year . . .’

‘Oh, you poor baby.’ She stroked his arm. ‘But never mind, I can drive your car for you. I do look good in your Lamborghini.’

‘You do, baby.’

‘And it’s so photogenic for my followers. But I’ll have to get my nails redone. This shade will never match.’ She studied her fingers for a few seconds before tapping out a message on her phone, which pinged a few seconds later. ‘Perf. Shanelle can fit me in tomorrow. As it’s an emergency.’

‘Right . . .’ He couldn’t really see anything wrong with her nails, but if it made her happy, he wasn’t going to complain. It was easier not to.

‘You’ll see, a year will pass in no time, and you might like me driving you about. It will be really couple-y, and we’ll get loads of crossover followers. We can drive to all the best photo spots for the Gram and totally spam social media to celebrate your good news.’ She tittered. ‘Or, I can drive and you can be my sexy sidekick.’ She flicked through her phone again. ‘How about next week?’

‘Can’t. Busy.’

‘Week after?’

‘Busy again?’ He winced, knowing the rest of the conversation was about to go downhill.

‘Too busy for me? What are you doing?’ Her eyes widened, ‘Ooh, have you signed another deal? Was it the fitness brand? You can tell me, you know I can be discreet . . .’

He tried not to snort with laughter at her last comment, and instead focussed on the next few words. ‘I didn’t get the fitness brand. I got community service.’

‘What?!’ Yvette finally looked up from her phone, her pretty lips open in a picture-perfect gasp. She was always picture-perfect. She should be. She worked hard enough and paid plenty for it. But it was what her fans liked to see — the ongoing quest for the perfect face, figure and lifestyle.

‘Community service,’ he repeated.

‘You mean, like reading to the elderly, or cleaning graffiti, or other dreadful things like that?’ Her eyes grew almost as round as her mouth. ‘Please don’t tell me they’re going to make you pick litter? You’d look dreadful in an orange jumpsuit! It would just wash you out completely.’

He took another swig of the champagne, which was rapidly losing its fizz — much like his night. ‘I think it’s some sort of animal charity thing.’

‘Animal charity? That could be cute for photos. Fluffy kittens and stuff. Could open up a whole new fanbase.’

‘Hmm, maybe.’ Rick necked the rest of the bottle and slipped his arms back round Yvette’s waist. ‘Come dance with me more.’

* * *

Angela hopped, shuffled and winced as she dragged the feed bag across the yard, grumbling under her breath, when her toes snagged on the flagstone that sat slightly higher than the rest. She fought to stay upright while trying not to curse out loud. She knew it was there, but still it caught her unawares sometimes. But, then again, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be lugging around heavy sacks, or trying to manage with just one crutch, but she didn’t think Ernie and his jennet posse would care about her still-healing femur, or the wasted muscles and damaged ligaments in her right thigh.

And they certainly wouldn’t care that the help she was supposed to be getting was already late. All that mattered to them was their food, which was wanted right now.