‘Control freak like me, any sort of disruption to my routine has to be good for me.’ She’s started to slur her words. Her top lip keeps slipping on her bottom one, like a smooth-soled shoe over snow. I could sneak off to the loo, phone Joe and tell him to come and pick her up, but if I leave her unattended she’s bound to accost a stranger, and there are at least two men at the bar who look likely to have chloroform-soaked hankies in their pockets. The Grand Old Duke of York is the only pub within walking distance of work that can be guaranteed to have nobody from Binary Star in it, which is why we’ve braved the bad beer and creepy loners. Tonight, anything’s better than bumping into Maya, Raffi or Laurie at the French House. ‘My life’s been too safe for too long,’ says Tamsin decisively. ‘I should take more risks.’ That’s it: no way am I letting her get the tube home. I’ll have to wait until she passes out to phone Joe.
