A spasm of pain runs through my body and I close my eyes, almost unable to bear it. If I could just turn back time … if I'd been more forceful … if I'd marched Jemima and her friend off the premises … if I'd spoken up more quickly when Jack appeared …

But I didn't. And it's too late.

A group of party guests comes out of the courtyard onto the pavement, laughing and discussing taxis.

'Are you all right?' says one curiously to me, and I give a start.

'Yes,' I say. 'Thanks.' I look one more time at where Jack's car disappeared, then force myself to turn around and make my way slowly back up to the party.

I find Lissy and Jemima still in the little office, Jemima cowering in terror as Lissy lays into her.

'… selfish immature little bitch! You make me sick, you know that?'

I once heard someone say Lissy was a Rottweiler in court, and I could never understand it. But now, as I watch her striding up and down, her eyes blazing in fury, I'm actually pretty scared myself.

'Emma, make her stop!' pleads Jemima. 'Make her stop shouting at me.'

'So … what happened?' Lissy looks at me, her face alight with hope. Mutely, I shake my head.

'Is he—'

'He's gone.' I swallow. 'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'Oh, Emma.' She bites her lip.

'Don't,' I say in a wobbly voice. 'I'll cry.' I lean against the wall and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to get back to normal. 'Where's her friend?' I say at last, and jerk my thumb at Jemima.

'He got thrown out,' says Lissy with satisfaction. 'He was trying to take a picture of Justice Hugh Morris in his tights, and a bunch of lawyers surrounded him and bundled him out.'

'Jemima, listen to me.' I force myself to meet her unrepentant blue gaze. 'You cannot let him find out any more. You cannot.'

'It's OK,' she says sulkily. 'I've already spoken to him. Lissy made me. He won't pursue it.'

'How do you know?'

'He won't do anything that would piss Mummy off. He has a pretty lucrative arrangement with her.'

I shoot Lissy a 'can we trust her?' look, and she gives a doubtful shrug.

'Jemima, this is a warning.' I walk to the door, then turn round with a stern face. 'If anything of this gets out — anything at all — I will make it public that you snore.'

'I don't snore!' says Jemima tartly.

'Yes you do,' says Lissy. 'When you've had too much to drink you snore really loudly. And we'll tell everyone you got your Donna Karan coat from a discount warehouse shop.'

Jemima gasps in horror.

'I didn't!' she says, colour suffusing her cheeks.

'You did. I saw the carrier bag,' I chime in. 'And we'll make it public that you once asked for a serviette, not a napkin.'

Jemima claps a hand over her mouth.

'… and your pearls are cultured, not real …'

'… and you never really cook the food at your dinner parties …'

'… and that photo of you meeting Prince William is faked …'

'… and we'll tell every single man you ever date from now on that all you're after is a rock on your finger!' I finish, and glance gratefully at Lissy.

'OK!' says Jemima, practically in tears. 'OK! I promise I'll forget all about it. I promise. Just please don't mention the discount warehouse shop. Please. Can I go now?' She looks imploringly at Lissy.

'Yes, you can go,' says Lissy contemptuously, and Jemima scuttles out of the room. As the door closes, I stare at Lissy.

'Is that photo of Jemima and Prince William really faked?'

'Yes! Didn't I tell you? I once did some stuff for her on her computer, and I opened the file by mistake — and there it was. She just pasted her head onto some other girl's body!'

I can't help giving a giggle.

'That girl is unbelievable.'

I sink into a chair, feeling suddenly weak, and for a while there's silence. In the distance there's a roar of laughter from the party, and somebody walks past the door of the office, talking about the trouble with the judiciary system as it stands …

'Wouldn't he even listen?' says Lissy at last.

'No. He just left.'

'Isn't that a bit extreme? I mean, he gave away all your secrets. You only gave away one of his—'

'You don't understand,' I stare at the drab brown office carpet. 'What Jack told me, it's not just anything. It's something really precious to him. He came all the way here to tell me. To show me that he trusted me with it.' I swallow hard. 'And the next moment he finds me spilling it to a journalist.'

'But you weren't!' says Lissy loyally. 'Emma, this wasn't your fault!'

'It was!' Tears are welling up in my eyes. 'If I'd just kept my mouth closed, if I'd never told Jemima anything in the first place …'

'She would have got him anyway,' says Lissy. 'He'd be suing you for a scraped car instead. Or damaged genitals.'

I give a shaky laugh.

The door bursts open, and the feathered guy I saw backstage looks in. 'Lissy! There you are. They're serving food. It looks rather good, actually.'

'OK,' she says. 'Thanks, Colin. I'll be along in a minute.'

He leaves and Lissy turns to me.

'Do you want something to eat?'

'I'm not really hungry. But you go,' I add quickly. 'You must be starving after your performance.'

'I am rather ravenous,' she admits. Then she gives me an anxious look. 'But what will you do?'

'I'll … just go home,' I say, and try to smile as cheerfully as I can. 'Don't worry, Lissy, I'll be fine.'

And I am planning to go home. But when I get outside I find I can't bring myself to. I'm wound up with tension like a metal coil. I can't face going into the party and having to make small talk — but I can't face the four silent walls of my bedroom either. Not quite yet.

Instead, I head across the gravel, towards the empty auditorium. The door is unlocked and I walk straight in. I make my way through the darkness to a seat in the middle, and wearily sit down on the cushiony purple plush.

And as I stare at the silent blackness of the empty stage, two fat tears make their way out of my eyes and trickle slowly down my face. I cannot believe I've fucked up so monumentally. I can't believe Jack really thinks I … that he thinks I would …

I keep seeing the shock on his face. I keep reliving that trapped powerlessness, that desperation to speak; to explain myself.

If I could just replay it …

Suddenly there's a creaking sound. The door is slowly opening.

I peer uncertainly through the gloom as a figure comes into the auditorium and stops. In spite of myself, my heart starts to thud with unbearable hope.

It's Jack. It has to be Jack. He's come to find me.

There's a long, agonizing silence. I'm taut with apprehension. Why won't he say anything? Why won't he speak?

Is he punishing me? Is he expecting me to apologize again? Oh God, this is torture. Just say something, I plead silently. Just say something.

'Oh Francesca …'

'Connor …'

What? I peer again, more sharply, and feel a crash of disappointment. I am such a moron. It's not Jack. It's not one figure, it's two. It's Connor and what must be his new girlfriend — and they're snogging.

Miserably, I shrink right down in my seat, trying to block my ears. But it's no good, I can hear everything.

'Do you like this?' I hear Connor murmuring.

'Mmm …'

'Do you really like it?'

'Of course I do! Stop quizzing me!'

'Sorry,' says Connor, and there's silence, apart from the odd 'Mmmm'.

'Do you like this?' his voice suddenly comes again.

'I already told you I did.'

'Francesca, be honest, OK?' Connor's voice rises in agitation. 'Because if that means no, then—'

'It doesn't mean no! Connor, what's your problem?'

'My problem is, I don't believe you.'

'You don't believe me?' She sounds furious. 'Why the hell don't you believe me?'

Suddenly I'm filled with remorse. This is all my fault. Not only have I wrecked my own relationship, now I've wrecked theirs too. I have to do something. I have to try to build bridges.

I clear my throat. 'Er … excuse me?'

'Who the fuck's that?' says Francesca sharply. 'Is someone there?'

'It's me. Emma. Connor's ex-girlfriend.'

A row of lights goes on, and I see a girl with red hair staring at me belligerently, with her hand on the light switch.

'What the hell are you doing? Spying on us?'

'No!' I say. 'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to … I couldn't help overhearing …' I swallow. 'The thing is, Connor isn't being difficult. He just wants you to be honest. He wants to know what you want.' I summon up my most understanding, womanly expression. 'Francesca … tell him what you want.'

Francesca stares at me incredulously, then looks at Connor.

'I want her to piss off.' She points at me.

'Oh,' I say, taken aback. 'Er, OK. Sorry.'

'And switch the lights off when you go,' adds Francesca, leading Connor up the aisle towards the back of the auditorium.

Are they going to have sex?

OK, I really do not want to be around for this.

Hastily I pick up my bag and hurry along the row of seats towards the exit. I push my way through the double doors into the foyer, flicking the light switch as I pass, then step out into the courtyard. I close the door behind me, and look up.

And then I freeze.

I don't believe it. It's Jack.

It's Jack, coming towards me, striding fast across the courtyard, determination on his face. I haven't got time to think, or prepare.