Jemima recoiled. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t also reveal her heart.

‘No, Jem. Me and Chance have our second date tonight. I think it’s serious,’ Simi said.

Jemima jolted as Simi’s words hit her. A second date? And what did she mean by serious? Had Chance said this or had Simi misread the signals again? Jemima’s lips moved but nothing came out, Simi’s cold and unrevealing expression stopping her. Well, if Chance did want Simi, Jemima would just have to pack away her passions and accept he was lost. Under the table she dug her nails into her hand, wanting to run. Finally, Simi peeled her gaze away and Jemima was able to breathe.

‘Plus, with me going away on this Clash of the Crown job and you moving to LA we’d have to stop anyway,’ Simi said.

Meagan turned sharply to Jemima. ‘What?’

Jemima looked to Simi. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I needed to print a script so I took some paper from your recycling tray. There was an email from Rebecca. Pictures of her flat and stuff.’ Simi shrugged.

‘Secrets and lies,’ said Meagan, eyes locked on Jemima.

‘She was just offering it. I’m not doing anything about it,’ Jemima flapped.

‘Really? “I am soooooo interested”,’ Simi quoted. ‘You got that email at the ice rink. You said it was nothing.’

‘Told you she was up to something,’ murmured Meagan.

Jemima crumbled, trapped. ‘Listen, we’ve all got side-tracked. Let’s restart the game—’

‘Stop telling me what to do,’ Simi spat, ‘and Meagan, I think you’re right.’

Meagan’s eyebrows arched practically to her hairline.

‘We should separate work from friendship. I’m getting a new agent. Thanks for that advice, Jem.’

Meagan threw a piercing glare across the table, deep hurt pulsing across her face. She slid out of their booth and before Simi had even finished her sentence, two bank notes fluttered to the table.

‘Meagan, wait—’ Jemima pleaded but Meagan was already halfway to the door.

She stared into the space where Meagan had been. Where once there were three, now there were barely two. Simi gave a nod to their waiter for the bill.

‘You know, Jem,’ Simi said slipping her jacket on and taking out her purse, ‘it’s almost like you don’t want me to be happy, I mean really happy.’

Jemima tried to answer. Simi’s pain was the last thing she wanted and the very suggestion left her reeling.

‘It’s like I’m this joke to you. Simi, the love klutz, Simi the broke actress, Simi the unfixable problem, and just when I meet someone I like you do everything to put me off, ruin it.’

‘I was protecting you. You don’t know him,’ Jemima implored.

‘Do you?’ said, Simi, a frost in her words. ‘Do you like him?’

All at once, Jemima was on a shore, a tsunami accelerating towards her. Waves of emotion crashed, battering her. She so wanted to deny, to reassure her friend but nothing came. And with her silence, she had made everything worse.