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‘Oh my God. What are you doing?’ she asks.

I realise she isn’t even thinking about whether the bottle on the table has been tampered with; she’s referring to my ripped dress.

‘I caught it on something,’ I say.

‘On what?’ she replies. ‘If you’ve damaged anything…’

‘It was my bad,’ Eddy says calmly, wrapping an arm around my front. His hand settles on my bare stomach. ‘I can’t keep my hands off her.’

Tina stares at him.

‘You ripped her dress?’

Eddy has the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

‘He’s just an animal,’ I say, because at least in this narrative, I look cool. ‘He doesn’t know his own strength.’

Tina looks between us, taking in my torn dress and flushed face.

‘Did you… did you have sex in my new wine cellar?’ she blurts.

My first thought is: does it make a difference if it’s new or not?

‘No… not sex-sex,’ I insist.

‘I think maybe you need to leave,’ she says, her voice much squeakier than usual. ‘You can’t stay here with your dress hanging off, and there are children present.’

‘No, absolutely. I completely understand,’ I reply, trying to suppress my smile, because that is music to my ears.

She is furious, and I don’t think it’s about me defiling her new wine cellar, or the kids upstairs; I think it’s because she thinks Eddy became so overwhelmed with desire for me that he tore my dress from my body while she was upstairs bragging about her underfloor heating.

Obviously I can’t set her straight, not without being invoiced for the truth.

‘We’ll say goodbye to Tony,’ I say.

‘I think a quiet exit might be best,’ she replies.

‘Well, thank Tony for inviting us,’ Eddy tells her. ‘You guys have a lovely home.’

She grabs a bottle of red wine.

‘I have a jacuzzi in the garden. I was going to show people later, but I can move that segment of the evening now, so you can sneak out,’ she suggests.

That’s just not a serious sentence, is it?

‘Okay,’ I reply.

She turns and heads back upstairs, tutting with each step she takes.

Eddy takes off his jacket, then begins unbuttoning his shirt.

I stare at him.

‘Round two?’ I joke.

He laughs.

‘I thought you might appreciate my shirt,’ he says. ‘Given…’