I get out ungracefully, legs like jelly as I hit the pavement on tired feet and walk past him, curiosity getting the better of me now we are here, and I realise he isn’t following me. I don’t know what is with my brain or my stupid emotions, but the sudden realisation he isn’t even coming into the club hits some odd nerve deep down, and my response is a genuine shock.

‘You’re not coming?’ I blanch at him, no clue as to why I thought he would, or the strange sense of ...