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No.

Freddy dials the binocular focus, zooming in onfuckingChris.

Where did that dickhead come from?

On instinct, Freddy grabs a scone, meaning to hurl it in Chris’s direction. But he doesn’t, because the scones here are fluffy and light as little clouds and would make poor projectiles. Also, battering Chris with baked goods won’t help Kat, who looks like she’s struggling to stand.

Freddy chucks the binoculars at the butler man, grabs Kat’s new Lulu Guinness bag and sprints out of the VIP box.

‘Sir. SIR!’ The barman gives a frantic wave. ‘Please don’t run. It’s dangerous after the amount of miniature tumblers you just consumed.’

‘I can handle my drink.’ Freddy runs to the stairwell, where he promptly trips and falls.

He clambers to his feet.

‘It wasn’t the tequila!’ Freddy shouts up the stairs. ‘Gucci loafers have no grip whatsoever.’

CHAPTER34

Freddy sprints across the lawn, skidding up to Kat and Chris and nearly falling over again in the process. He wasn’t lying about the Gucci loafers. Considering their price tag, they really should grip better.

‘Kat. Hey.’ Freddy proffers her Lulu Guinness bag. ‘I thought you might need this.’

Kat’s eyes register alarm, but the set of her mouth remains tight and sad. Freddy has an impulse to sweep her into his arms and carry her to a world with no pain. Disneyworld, perhaps. But that’s impractical. He turns to Chris.

‘You need to leave. You don’t belong here. Who have you come as, anyway? Fagin’s fat brother?’

‘The Artful Dodger, actually.’ Chris throws his shoulders back in a misplaced gesture of alpha maledom. ‘Shoreditch Youth Theatre lent me the costume. Now if you don’t mind, I’m talking to my fiancée.’

‘Ex-fiancée.’ Freddy uses his lowest, most menacing voice. ‘You need to leave. Before I call security who, by the way, are all gym friends of mine.’ He seals the intimidation with a heavy hand on Chris’s shoulder.

‘Get your hands off me!’ Chris’s lip wobbles with indignation.

‘It’s only one hand,’ says Freddy. ‘But if you want it to be both, I can make that happen. Shall we do this the easy way or the hard way?’

Chris meets Freddy’s eye, then flinches. ‘Fine. If that’s what Kat wants … but she’s missing out.’

‘No, she isn’t.’

Chris offers a childish, ‘Yes she is!’ But he’s already half walking, half running across the lawn and Freddy sees no reason to respond. He turns to Kat, his mouth matching her sad expression. ‘Look, I know you’re a pacifist and all of that, but Chris deserved –’

‘I’m not a pacifist.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a common misconception that vegans are all pacifists. But I’m okay with violence in the right circumstances. Sometimes, you have to stand up for what you believe in. And Chris deserved your literal heavy hand.’

‘Oh. Right. I thought you’d tell me off like you usually do.’

‘Not on this occasion. Chris is still married to Minola. I appreciated you getting rid of him. You are a decent man, Freddy Stark. Far more decent than you let on.’

Freddy’s chest fills with pride. Standing up for Kat reminds him of someone he used to be. Or at least wanted to be. Before his mother walked out.

‘Don’t go spreading that around,’ says Freddy. ‘I have a brand identity to protect.’

‘Come on.’ Kat grabs his arm. ‘Let’s get a glass of champagne. Although I’m not sure you need another drink. You smell like a tequila bottle.’

‘Yeah, no more booze for me,’ says Freddy. ‘And I’m not sure you should be drinking, either. I’ve been reading up on MS. Alcohol isn’t good –’