'OK,' says Connor, looking more wounded than ever. 'Fine. I get the message.'

I watch, unable to breathe, as he shuts the gate behind him and walks slowly along the street. Keep walking, keep walking … don't stop …

As he finally rounds the corner, Jack's silver car appears at the other end of the street.

'Oh my God,' says Lissy, staring at it.

'Don't!' I sink onto the stone wall. 'Lissy, I can't cope with this.'

I feel shaky. I think I need a drink. And I've only got mascara on one set of eyelashes, I abruptly realize.

The silver car pulls up in front of the house, and out gets the same uniformed driver as before. He opens the passenger door, and Jack steps out.

'Hi!' he says, looking taken aback to see me. 'Am I late?'

'No! I was just … um … sitting here. You know. Taking in the view.' I gesture across the road, where I notice for the first time that a man with a huge belly is changing the wheel on his caravan. 'Anyway!' I say, hastily standing up, 'Actually, I'm not quite ready. Do you want to come up for a minute?'

'Sure,' says Jack with a smile. 'That would be nice.'

'And send your car away,' I add. 'You weren't supposed to have it!'

'You weren't supposed to be sitting outside your house and catch me out,' retorts Jack with a grin. 'OK, Daniel, that's it for the night.' He nods to the driver. 'I'm in this lady's hands from now on.'

'This is Lissy, my flatmate,' I say as the driver gets back into the car. 'Lissy, Jack.'

'Hi,' says Lissy with a self-conscious grin, as they shake hands.

As we make our way up the stairs to our flat, I'm suddenly aware of how narrow they are, and how the cream paint on the walls is all scuffed, and the carpet smells of cabbage. Jack probably lives in some enormous grand mansion. He probably has a marble staircase or something.

But so what? We can't all have marble.

Anyway, it's probably awful. All cold and clattery. You probably trip on it all the time, and it probably chips really easily—

'Emma, if you want to get ready, I'll fix Jack a drink,' says Lissy, with a smile that says: He's nice!

'Thanks,' I say, shooting back an 'isn't he?' look. I hurry into my room and hurriedly start applying mascara to my other eye.

A few moments later there's a little knock at my door.

'Hi!' I say, expecting Lissy. But in comes Jack, holding out a glass of sweet sherry.

'Oh, thanks!' I say gratefully. 'I could do with a drink.'

'I won't come in,' he says politely.

'No, it's fine. Sit down!'

I gesture to the bed, but it's covered with clothes. And my dressing table stool is piled high with magazines. Damn, I should have tidied up a bit.

'I'll stand,' says Jack with a little smile. He takes a sip of what looks like whisky, and looks around my room in fascination. 'So this is your room. Your world.'

'Yes.' I flush slightly, unscrewing my lip-gloss. 'It's a bit messy—'

'It's very nice. Very homey.' I can see him taking in the shoes piled in the corner, the fish mobile hanging from my light, the mirror with necklaces strung over the side, and a new skirt hanging on the wardrobe door.

'Cancer Research?' he says puzzledly, looking at the label. 'What does that—'

'It's a shop,' I say, a little defiantly. 'A second-hand shop.'

'Ah.' He nods in tactful comprehension. 'Nice bedcover,' he adds, smiling.

'It's ironic,' I say hastily. 'It's an ironic statement.'

God, how embarrassing. I should have changed it.

Now Jack's staring incredulously at my open dressing-table drawer, crammed with makeup. 'How many lipsticks do you have?'

'Er, a few …' I say, hastily closing it.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to let Jack come in here. He's picking up my Perfectil vitamins, and examining them. I mean, what's so interesting about vitamins? Now he's looking at Katie's crochet belt.

'What's this? A snake?'

'It's a belt,' I say, screwing up my face as I put in an earring. 'I know. It's hideous. I can't stand crochet.'

Where's my other earring? Where?

Oh, OK, here it is. Now what's Jack doing?

I turn to see him looking in fascination at my exercise chart, which I put up in January after I'd spent the entire Christmas eating Quality Street.

'"Monday, 7 a.m.",' he reads aloud. '"Brisk jog round block. Forty sit-ups. Lunch time: yoga class. Evening: Pilates tape. Sixty sit-ups."' He takes a sip of whisky. 'Very impressive. You do all this?'

'Well,' I say after a pause. 'I don't exactly manage every single … I mean, it was quite an ambitious … you know … er … Anyway!' I quickly spritz myself with perfume. 'Let's go!'

I have to get him out of here quickly before he does something like spot a Tampax and ask me what it is. I mean, honestly! Why on earth is he so interested in everything?


FIFTEEN



As we head out into the balmy evening, I feel light and happy with anticipation. Already there's a completely different atmosphere from yesterday night. No scary cars; no posh restaurants. It feels more casual. More fun.

'So,' says Jack, as we walk up to the main road. 'An evening out, Emma-style.'

'Absolutely!' I stick out my hand and hail a taxi, and give the name of the road in Clerkenwell off which the little alley runs.

'We're allowed to go by taxi, are we?' says Jack mildly as we get in. 'We don't have to wait for a bus?'

'As a very special treat,' I say with mock severity.

'So, are we eating? Drinking? Dancing?' says Jack, as we move off down the street.

'Wait and see!' I beam at him. 'I just thought we could have a really laid-back, spontaneous evening.'

'I guess I over-planned last night,' says Jack after a pause.

'No, it was lovely!' I say kindly. 'But sometimes you can put too much thought into things. You know, sometimes it's better just to go with the flow and see what happens.'

'You're right.' Jack smiles. 'Well, I look forward to going with the flow.'

As we whiz along Upper Street, I feel quite proud of myself. It just shows I'm a true Londoner. I can take my guests to little places off the beaten track. I can find spots which aren't just the obvious venues to go. I mean, not that Jack's restaurant wasn't amazing. But how much cooler will this be? A secret club! And I mean, who knows, Madonna might be there this evening!

After about twenty minutes we get to Clerkenwell. I insist on paying the taxi fare, and lead Jack down the alley.

'Very interesting,' says Jack, looking around. 'So where are we heading?'

'Just wait,' I say enigmatically. I head for the door, press the buzzer and take Lissy's key out of my pocket with a little frisson of excitement.

He is going to be so impressed. He is going to be so impressed!

'Hello?' comes a voice.

'Hello,' I say casually. 'I'd like to speak to Alexander, please.'

'Who?' says the voice.

'Alexander,' I repeat, and give a knowing smile. Obviously they have to double-check.

'Ees no Alexander here.'

'You don't understand. Al-ex-and-er,' I enunciate clearly.

'Ees no Alexander.'

Maybe I got the wrong door, it suddenly occurs to me. I mean, I remember it as being this one — but maybe it was this other one with the frosted glass. Yes. That one looks quite familiar, actually.

'Tiny hitch,' I smile at Jack, and press the new bell.

There's silence. I wait a few minutes, then try again, and again. There's no reply. OK. So … it's not this one either.

Fuck.

I am a moron. Why didn't I check the address? I was just so sure I'd remember where it was.

'Is there a problem?' says Jack.

'No!' I say at once, and smile brightly. 'I'm just trying to recall exactly …'

I look up and down the street, trying not to panic. Which one was it? Am I going to have to ring every single doorbell in the street? I take a few steps along the pavement, trying to trigger my memory. And then, through an arch, I spy another alley, almost identical to this one.

I feel a huge thud of horror. Am I in the right alley, even? I dart forward and peer into the other alley. It looks exactly the same. Rows of nondescript doors and blanked-out windows.

My heart starts to beat more quickly. What am I going to do? I can't try every single doorbell in every bloody alley in the vicinity. It never once occurred to me that this might happen. Not once. I never even thought to—

OK, I'm being stupid. I'll call Lissy! She'll tell me. I pull out my mobile and dial home, but immediately it clicks onto answerphone.

'Hi, Lissy, it's me,' I say, trying to sound light and casual. 'A tiny little hitch has happened, which is that I can't remember exactly which door the club is behind. Or actually … which alley it's in either. So if you get this, could you give me a call? Thanks!'

I look up to see Jack watching me.

'Everything OK?'

'Just a slight glitch,' I say, and give a relaxed little laugh. 'There's this secret club along here somewhere, but I can't quite remember where.'

'Never mind,' says Jack nicely. 'These things happen.'

I jab the number for home again, but it's engaged. Quickly I dial Lissy's mobile number, but it's switched off.

Oh fuck. Fuck. We can't stand here in the street all night.

'Emma,' says Jack cautiously. 'Would you like me to make a reservation at—'

'No!' I jump as though stung. Jack's not going to reserve anything. I've said I'll organize this evening, and I will. 'No thanks. It's OK.' I make a snap decision. 'Change of plan. We'll go to Antonio's instead.'