His words from the speech ring in my ears—the ones about laying down responsibilities—and suddenly my dark mood from earlier descends, landing on my shoulders with a heavy weight. What on earth is Misha doing with me? I could possibly be the biggest responsibility he’s ever had, and he’s jumping right in without a second thought.

I look at Adam again. He’s dressed expensively, and he wears the same look of effortless confidence that Misha does. He’s just back from Barcelona. The only place I’ve just got back from is Southwark Public Library.

I realise that I’ve got to my feet when the chair makes a squealing noise, and conversation at the table stops. “Sorry,” I say, running my hand through my hair and feeling strands dislodge from my ponytail. “Just nipping out for a second.” They smile nicely and go back to their conversations, and I scarper.

I’m making my way to the bathrooms off the reception area when I hear Misha call my name. For an instant, I actually consider bolting, but I make myself stand still and wait for him to catch up.

“You alright, Charlie?” he asks.

I nod quickly. “I’m fine. Why?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. You got up quickly, and I was concerned.”

I sigh. This is what I’m worried about right here. “Why were you concerned? Because of the epilepsy?”

He looks closely at me. “Of course. You had a turn earlier, and you’re not quite right today.”

“Today? I’m potentially not quite right any day of the week, Misha.”

My voice is too loud, and I flush as I see a few people in the lobby turn round. He must think the same, because he grabs my arm gently and steers me into a small room filled with comfy seating. It’s blessedly empty.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” He folds his arms over his chest. “And I know something is.”

I shrug and lean against a leather sofa. “Nothing’s wrong,” I say soothingly, desperately wanting him to go back to the reception so we don’t say words I already know we’re going to regret. By the irritated look on his face, I think it’s too late.

“Don’t bullshit me, Charlie.”

The words are sharp, and any thought of shutting up leaves me. “I liked your speech.”

He looks flabbergasted. “Erm, thank you.”

I nod. “I liked the talk of abdicating all responsibilities from now on. That was nice.”

He looks as if he’s walking through a field full of unexploded bombs. “And yet I’m sensing that you are somehow pissed off with that, Charlie.”

“Not pissed off,” I deny automatically. He shoots me an unimpressed look, and I raise my hands helplessly. “Just wondering why you can’t see it, that’s all.”

He straightens. “See what?”