‘Yuk.’ Lisa frowned. ‘Wurzel Gummidge – please! Robin Co-no. David Copperf- no, I couldn’t. I suppose it’ll have to be Wurzel Gummidge. Ugh.’

Mad keen to fit in, Clodagh turned to Ashling and challenged loudly, ‘Brad Pitt, Joseph Fiennes and Tom Cruise, and you must sleep with one of them!’

Lisa and Joy exchanged a look. Clodagh just didn’t get it, did she?

Too late, Clodagh saw that she’d done something wrong. ‘Oh,’ she admitted, stung raw by her own stupidity. ‘They’re meant to be unattractive, aren’t they? Who wants a drink?’

‘Clodagh, can I introduce you to –’ Ashling said. Marcus had arrived at the table. ‘Marcus, this is my best friend Clodagh.’

As Marcus shook Clodagh’s hand, she felt marginally better. He was nice and friendly, not like those two bitches, Joy and Lisa.

‘I’m just buying a round,’ Clodagh smiled at Marcus. ‘Can I get you something?’

‘Only a Red Bull. I don’t drink before I go on stage,’ he explained kindly.

‘OK, I’ll get you a proper drink afterwards.’ Stiffly, she asked Joy, ‘What would you like?’

‘Red Square.’

‘Red… um?’ Clodagh had never heard of such a drink.

‘It’s vodka and Red Bull,’ Ashling explained. ‘I’ll have one too.’

‘And me,’ said Lisa.

And so will I, Clodagh decided. When in Rome… Hey, who was he?. A tall, dishevelled man had arrived and was hovering uncomfortably on the edge of the group. Gorgeous! Not really her type – a bit too unkempt – but all the same… Then she noticed Lisa attach herself to him like she had suckers.

‘Would, um, Lisa’s boyfriend like a drink?’ Clodagh asked Ashling.

‘Who? Oh, him, he’s not Lisa’s boyfriend, he’s our boss.’

‘Well, would your boss like a drink?’

Ashling swallowed a sigh and with bad grace said, ‘Mr Devine, this is my friend Clodagh, she’s going to the bar.’

Jack smiled at Clodagh, shook her hand and said, ‘Call me Jack.’ Then he insisted on buying the round.

Ashling couldn’t help an eruption of jealousy. Why couldn’t he be nice to her? Then she switched her focus to Marcus and immediately felt better. Before the gig began he was approached by a steady stream of fans. Female fans, mostly. As she watched the girls go up to him, she swelled with pride that he was her boyfriend. She couldn’t help being pleased with herself for bagging him. He could have had anyone, she thought, and he picked me.

It was Clodagh’s night, no doubt about it. The comedians – intimidated by Lisa, sick of the sight of Joy and respectful of Ashling being Marcus’s girlfriend – swarmed around Clodagh with her swishy new hair, gorgeous face and tight, white trousers. Ted’s dark little face was miserable, but he was hopelessly out-numbered.

Clodagh, blazing a trail through Red Square after Red Square, was having a blast. During one of the breaks, Ashling overheard her saying to a cluster of men, ‘I was a virgin before I got married.’ With a twinkle in her eye she added, ‘A long time before, mind.’

Everyone fell into convulsions and Ashling couldn’t help a shameful little thought, It wasn’t that funny. She pushed it away – it wasn’t Clodagh’s fault she was beautiful. And it genuinely was nice to see her enjoying herself so much.

Then Clodagh crossed her legs and all eyes flickered to the movement. Unselfconsiously she eased her embroidered mule off her foot and let it swing idly on her big toe. Ashling watched several sets of eyes – all male – scud back and forth in time with it, looking mildy hypnotized.

Ted’s act went down a storm and when he came back to the table, alight with triumph, Ashling watched Clodagh rub his shoulder and say, ‘You were brilliant!’

Some time later Ashling saw Clodagh smiling at Jack Devine with the tip of her tongue poking out saucily through her teeth. Then Bicycle Billy got the same treatment. Oh no! It was her I’m-gorgeous-and-I-know-it smile, at least that was what she thought. But to quote Phelim on it, it was her scary-old-bat-from-Benny-Hill leer.

The next time Ashling looked, Clodagh had deteriorated markedly. With the slinkiness of an affectionate cat, she was rubbing her face against people’s shoulders and explaining with charming bleariness to everyone, ‘I’ve two children, so I don’t get out much.’ She hugged Lisa and said earnestly, ‘I’m pissed! You see, I don’t get out much.’ Then she saw Ashling looking and exclaimed, Oh Ashling, I’m pissed. Are you cross with me?’

But before Ashling could demur, Clodagh had turned away and, skimming over the top of her words, was explaining to Mark Dignan, ‘I’ve two chirn, soadoan get out much.’

Marcus was last on the bill and as he took the stage Clodagh was whispering and giggling with Jack Devine. Ashling was annoyed, she’d really been looking forward to showing off how good her boyfriend was.

‘Shush,’ she elbowed Clodagh, then indicated the stage.

‘Sorry,’ Clodagh said loudly – too loudly. Then proceeded to absolutely scream with laughter at everything Marcus said. When, amid rapturous applause, he returned to the table, Clodagh propelled herself into his arms and insisted, ‘You were HILARIOUS!’

Marcus gently disentangled himself from her and steered her back to her seat beside Ashling. As he sat down he squeezed Ashling’s hand and gave her a secret smile.

‘She’s right,’ Ashling murmured, ‘You were hilarious.’

‘Thanks,’ he mouthed, and they shared a moment of warm mutual regard, which went on for far longer than was decent.

‘Is that it, then?’ Clodagh demanded. ‘No more funny stuff. Do we have to go home?’

‘Jesus, no!’ Jimmy Bond looked aghast. ‘Late bar until two.’

‘Brilliant!’ Clodagh exclaimed and promptly knocked over someone’s glass. It clattered against the table and sent a stream of lager rushing over Bicycle Billy’s thighs. ‘Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry,’ Clodagh insisted, fuzzily. ‘God, I’m verr sorry.’

‘Ah, the poor thing,’ Ted sympathized. In unison, most of the table chorused, ‘She doesn’t get out much.’

Mark Dignan had just rejoined them and took in the scene, Bicycle Billy rubbing his soaked legs with the sleeve of his jacket, Clodagh apologizing thickly. Before anyone started to condemn her, Mark had some news for them. ‘She’s got two children,’ he confided and furrowed his brow to urge compassion, ‘so she doesn’t get out much.’