'I'll go then,' I say. 'Let you warm up.'
'Emma.' Lissy grabs hold of my arm and fixes me with an intense gaze. She's holding me so tight, she's hurting my flesh. 'Emma, if I ever say I want to do anything like this again, you have to stop me. Whatever I say. Promise you'll stop me.'
'I promise,' I say hastily. 'I promise.'
Bloody hell. I have never seen Lissy like that before in my life. As I walk back out into the courtyard, which is now swarming with even more well-dressed people, I'm thudding with nerves myself. She didn't look capable of standing up, let alone dancing.
Please don't let her mess up. Please.
A horrible image comes to me of Lissy standing like a startled rabbit, unable to remember her steps. And the audience just staring at her. The thought of it makes my stomach curdle.
OK. I am not going to let that happen. If anything goes wrong I'll cause a distraction. I'll pretend to have a heart attack. Yes. I'll collapse on the floor, and everyone will look at me for a few seconds, but the performance won't stop or anything because we're British, and by the time everyone turns back to the stage again, Lissy will have remembered her steps.
And if they rush me to hospital or anything, I'll just say, 'I had these terrible chest pains!' No-one will be able to prove that I didn't.
And even if they can prove it, with some special machine, I'll just say—
'Emma.'
'What?' I say absently. And then my heart stops.
Jack is standing ten feet away. He's dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and jersey, and he stands out a mile amongst all the corporate suited lawyers. As his dark eyes meet mine I feel all the old hurt rushing back into my chest.
Don't react, I tell myself quickly. Closure. New life.
'What are you doing here?' I ask, with a little I'm-not-actually-interested shrug.
'I found the flyer for this on your desk.' He lifts a piece of paper, not taking his eyes off mine. 'Emma, I really wanted to talk.'
I feel a sudden smarting inside. He thinks he can just pitch up and I'll drop everything to talk to him? Well, maybe I'm busy. Maybe I've moved on. Did he think of that?
'Actually … I'm here with someone,' I say in polite, slightly pitying tones.
'Really?'
'Yes. I am. So …' I give a little shrug and wait for Jack to walk away. But he doesn't.
'Who?' he says.
OK, he wasn't supposed to ask who. For a moment I'm not entirely sure what to do.
'Er … him,' I say at last, and point at a tall guy in shirt-sleeves, who's standing in the corner of the courtyard, facing away from us. 'In fact, I'd better join him.'
My head high, I swivel on my heel and start walking towards the shirt-sleeved guy. What I'll do is just ask him the time, and somehow engage him in conversation until Jack's gone. (And maybe laugh gaily once or twice to show what a good time we're having.)
I'm within a few feet of him, when the shirt-sleeved guy turns round, talking on a mobile.
'Hi!' I begin brightly, but he doesn't even hear me. He gives me ablank glance, then walks off, still talking, into the crowd.
I'm left all alone in the corner.
Fuck.
After what seems like several eternities, I turn round, as nonchalantly as I can.
Jack is still standing there, watching.
I stare at him furiously, my whole body pulsing with embarrassment. If he laughs at me—
But he's not laughing.
'Emma …' He walks forward until he's only a couple of feet away, his face frank. 'What you said. It stayed with me. I should have shared more with you. I shouldn't have shut you out.'
I feel a dart of surprise, followed by wounded pride. So he wants to share with me now, does he? Well maybe it's too late. Maybe I'm not interested any more.
'You don't need to share anything with me. Your affairs are your affairs, Jack.' I give him a distancing smile. 'They're nothing to do with me. And I probably wouldn't understand them, anyway, bearing in mind they're so complicated and I'm such a total thickie …'
I swivel determinedly, and start to walk away, over the gravel.
'I owe you an explanation, at least,' Jack's dry voice follows me.
'You owe me nothing!' I lift my chin proudly. 'It's over, Jack. And we might as well both just … Aargh! Let go!'
Jack has grabbed my arm, and now he pulls me round to face him.
'I came here tonight for a reason, Emma,' he says gravely. 'I came to tell you what I was doing in Scotland.'
I feel the most almighty bound of shock, which I hide as best I can.
'I'm not interested in what you were doing in Scotland!' I manage. I wrench my arm away and start striding away as best I can through the thicket of mobile-phone-gabbing lawyers.
'Emma, I want to tell you.' He's coming after me. 'I really want to tell you.'
'Well, maybe I don't want to know!' I reply defiantly, swivelling round on the gravel with a scatter of pebbles.
