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So why was he looking at her now with such longing in his eyes, such troubled longing? It was as if he still cared about her – still loved her.

‘My sweetheart, come along,

Don’t you hear the fond song,

The sweet notes of the nightingale flow?’

The song went on, lilting and soulful. Did she alone know the true meaning of the words, that ‘listening to the song of the nightingale’ was a euphemism for a seduction? The man was trying to persuade the maiden to sleep with him.

Her jaw ached with keeping her smile in place.

Trev’s hand covered hers, although she didn’t dare risk a glance at him. Her stomach turned over: this had to be a horrible coincidence. Her only hope was that it would end soon and he would leave.

‘The couple agreed to be married with speed

And soon to the church they did go.’

The silk dress clung to her back. Her bodice was too tight and it felt as if its cage were tightening even further, squeezing the air from her lungs.

The other singers reached the climax of the song, but Matt had ceased to sing.

‘No. I can’t …’ He held up his hands. ‘Stop. I can’t do this any longer.’

The voices petered out and a murmur of disquiet rippled through the room, although all Zennor could focus on was Matt. He approached the top table, his voice a plea. ‘Zennor. I can’t sing this crap. Not until you know.’

The grey-haired lead singer came up behind him. ‘Matt. What are you doing?’

‘I have to say this. I have to tell you what he’s really like.’ He jabbed a finger in Trev’s direction. ‘What he’s done. That this is all a terrible mistake.’

Trev stared at Matt. ‘Jesus. Are you drunk?’

Zennor’s heart seemed to stop. No. No. She wanted to say the words but they stuck in her throat.

‘It’s OK. He’s not himself.’ The grey-haired singer grabbed Matt’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

Matt threw off the lead singer’s arm. ‘No, Kane. I’m not drunk. Not very, anyway.’

‘That’s enough!’ Trev’s chair thudded on to the velvet carpet as he jumped to his feet.

‘Calm down, Trev.’ Zennor’s father tugged at his son-in-law’s jacket.

Ignoring him, Trev marched around to face Matt. ‘You’re leaving, pal. Now.’

‘I will leave but not until you tell me what you were doing with that waitress. I saw you both outside an hour ago. She had her legs wrapped around you. What was that? Rehearsing for your first dance?’ Matt snorted.

Zennor felt light-headed. ‘The waitress?’ she heard herself saying. ‘What waitress?’

‘How dare you, you snivelling little shite!’ Trev shouted in Matt’s face.

She felt Roo’s arm around her back. ‘Ignore him, hun. Matt’s drunk.’

‘Who is that awful young man?’ Trev’s mum, Sandra, demanded.

Zennor’s own mum, Helen, was at her side. ‘Don’t take any notice, love! Oh God. Your dad’s involved now. This won’t do his angina any good!’ Through the protective cordon of her mother and Roo, Zennor could see her father joining Trev in berating Matt.

Meanwhile the murmurs of disquiet in the room had risen to the buzz of a million angry bees about to swarm. Someone shouted, ‘Shame!’

Zennor tried to get out of her seat but her mother gently placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘No, love, let the others sort this out.’