Sally steers me in the direction of a guy who looks vaguely like the hot one from One Direction. His head is a mass of curls – what is it with me and big hair?! – and I like his style on the dance floor. I resist her pull.
‘Errr… I’m not sure.’
She wants to play wing woman. I can only see this ending badly. Sally is blonde, bubbly, incredibly sweet – all the things I’m not, and all the things I imagine the One Direction lookalike, and any straight-thinking male for that matter, would go for.
‘It’ll be fine!’ she says. ‘I’m good at this!’
‘Olly was nice,’ Freddie says.
‘Yes. I think he liked Sally.’
‘Yeah,’ I go on, ‘she’s a very charming wing woman – rather too charming I think!’ I laugh, but I don’t feel very happy. ‘It’s hardly surprising. She’s very attractive. If I was a guy, I’d probably fancy her.’
‘I think,’ Freddie says, looking over at Sam, ‘what she wants us to say is that she’s more attractive than Sally.’
I laugh. ‘No.’
Well, yes, but only if it’s true. What I actually want right now is for it to be true, or for the last hour to not have happened. I’m mature like that.
Sam mumbles for a bit in a Hugh Grant-esque kind of a way, before concluding, ‘What I’m trying to say, is that, where Sally’s concerned, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’
I frown. ‘Hmm I think you’re biased.’
Clearly he can’t win.
‘He probably thinks you’re too good for him!’ Freddie says.
Sam looks impressed. ‘That’s very good. I wish I’d thought of that!’
‘You’re funny,’ I say, ‘but I don’t think people think like that. I mean, I don’t believe that would stop a guy from trying it on. It might stop him from succeeding, but not trying.’
We walk on in silence. At the fork in the path, we say goodnight. Sam strides off to the right, whilst Freddie and I cross the park. In the distance I fancy I can hear Sally’s tinkling laugh.