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“Mission accomplished,” Elda said. “Shall we go for a cheeky cocktail to celebrate?”

“But I have the car.” Charlie wrinkled her nose.

Elda didn’t want their time together to end yet. Apart from Jack, she’d never wanted to spend so much time with the same person. “You could get a cab and leave it till the morning.”

Charlie tilted her head. “Okay, but it’s a school night, so no leading me astray, Elda Brown.”

“Scout’s honour.” Elda beamed. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

They turned up a cobbled street towards a row of white Georgian buildings. Behind the backlit windows, Elda envied the couples starting their romantic dinner dates. She glanced across at Charlie and imagined sitting opposite her at a candlelit table for two. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to let her fantasy unravel in her mind, while a warm excitement filled her belly.

They carried their drinks and settled into a snug booth at the back of an upmarket cocktail bar. Most people were shouting over their mates at the bar, but Elda leaned in so she could hear Charlie’s voice.

“A toast. To you.” Charlie tipped her glass in Elda’s direction. “It’s exciting, your first exhibition.”

“I’m not sure I’ve reached excitement yet. I’m shitting myself, to be honest.”

“Why?” Charlie frowned. “You’ve put the work in. Sit back and bask in the glory of showing it all off.”

“You’re braver than I am. Putting a piece on show is like walking onto a stage naked. Imagine being in court with your trousers down.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds fucking horrendous.” Charlie laughed, revealing the appealing length of her neck.

Elda shrugged. “It’s not that bad, I suppose. I’m winding myself up a bit.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“No one likes the paintings. I’m slated in the trade press. I never work again.” Elda put her head on the table with an operatic groan.

“Or people like them. They fall head over heels in love with you, the artist. You’re celebrated as the top billing of Francis’s famous mill gallery. Curators all over the country flock to see your work. You have to fight off agents.”

“I’m fragile. Don’t mock me.” Elda peered at Charlie through her fingers.

“I’m not! Good things might happen if you give them half a chance.”

Were they still talking about the exhibition? Elda fidgeted.

As the waiter dropped off their third round of cocktails, Elda shuffled closer and rested her thigh against Charlie’s. Knowing there were just the two layers of denim between them sent a thrill down her spine.

“Have you convinced your mum to come to the private viewing?” Charlie asked, raising her voice over the dance music.

“She hasn’t mentioned it since I asked.” Elda sighed. She longed to tell a story of a loving family, who took interest in her life and celebrated her success, but there was no point in lying. “I think my nan is too frail for the journey, and she can’t leave her alone.” Elda papered over the truth, because she wasn’t ready to admit to Charlie that her mum was probably drunk when she asked and might have instantly forgotten.

“Remind me, does she live far away?”

“It’s a couple of hours. She’ll get the train, which she hates because of all the people.”

“I hope she can make it. I love it when my mum visits.”

“I can probably count on one hand how many times she’s come to me since I left for university.” Elda rubbed at the frown gathering across her forehead, a battle raging in her thoughts. “How have you got such strong arms?” Desperate to change the subject, Elda spoke the first thought inside her head.

Charlie gripped her own bicep with mock pride. “I don’t know. Lifting heavy files up and down court steps?”

Emboldened with rum and sugar syrup, Elda stroked the silky skin on Charlie’s arm. Her body trembled, and she hoped Charlie didn’t notice. “Let’s go dancing at that place in the basement of Jimmy’s.” Elda’s leg twitched. She was jittery and wanted to distract herself.

“It’s Wednesday night. I’ve got case files to review in the morning, and I’m already a bit buzzed.” Charlie put her hand on Elda’s knee. “You’ve had too much sugar in your mojitos. Your legs are going be jigging all night. I’m glad I’m not sharing your bed.”

The image of Charliesleepingnext to her in bed crashed Elda’s thoughts, making her want to lean in and put her head into the crease of Charlie’s neck. She wanted to kiss the line of her jaw and taste her mouth. Fuelled by booze, her insides were on fire, and she was burning for Charlie’s touch.