Two of them were bald and looked like Ross Kemp and the third had stringy, black hair tied back in a pony tail. He was taller than the Ross Kemp twins and looked like a cross between Francis Rossi from Status Quo and Steven Seagal. Even from the back of the queue Samantha could hear the thump thump of the drum and bass music that she knew was likely to bring on a migraine. But she smiled at Jimmy and did a ridiculous jig like something from Lord of the Dance in appreciation of the song that was playing and hoped she would be able to lose him in the crowd once they were inside. Then she could call a taxi and go home. That way there would be no awkward lifts touching knees in the teeny tiny car, clutching her teeny tiny handbag to her chest. ‘So what sort of music are you in to? This sort of stuff or stuff more like Air Patrol?’ Jimmy enquired as they moved up the queue. Oh God, he wanted to interrogate her before they got inside. She hadn’t bargained on there being a queue to get in, and a quiet queue at that.
