‘Ah, come on, Si. It’s a pretty common dream to be a star,’ I say, realising that I’m behaving like a right bitch, raining on his parade – no theatrical pun intended. I soften my tone. ‘I loved it as a kid. I used to dance in the local pantomime every Christmas. One year I even got a speaking role, but I fucked it up.’

‘No!’

‘Yep. You know when Cinderella shows up to the ball and nobody knows who she is?’

‘Incognito. The best part, of course. Go on …’

‘Well, it was my line to introduce her as a mysterious princess from a faraway land, and as I opened me mouth, I somehow – well – breathed wrong.’

Si chokes on a Minstrel. ‘How do you breathe wrong?!’

‘I dunno! I kind of breathed in when I should’ve breathed out – or the other way round – and ended up coughing uncontrollably. Some other kid jumped in like a trouper and said me line for me, but it was drowned out by the fit I was having. Seriously, Si, I sounded like I was on me last legs. The show couldn’t continue until I stopped.’

‘I can’t bear it!’ Si shrieks, and covers his face with the Minstrels bag. ‘I can’t even look at you! This is mortifying.’

‘I know, right? So there you have it. My glittering career as an actress. I joined the youth theatre in the backstage department once I was old enough. I used to paint the sets, did a bit of wardrobe.’

‘Ooh, I can totally see you as a wardrobe mistress.’

‘Ha, well. When the girl playing Elizabeth Proctor fell ill the night before we opened The Crucible, I knew exactly who’d fit into her costume.’

‘You?’

‘Yep. Easy as that, I was back in the game.’

Si gives a neat round of applause. ‘And were you marvellous?’

‘Nah. I was a total flop. And so what? I just liked the whole world of it, you know. That feeling of being part of a big, weird family. On the stage, off the stage, the after-show parties—’

‘Oh, I loooove an after-show.’

‘That’s probably where I was going wrong. I preferred that to putting in the graft. I ended up doing a piss-poor drama degree at a poly nobody’s ever heard of; but God, we had a good laugh. Used to put on terrible sketch shows in the student union – we thought we were hilarious. Loads of Blair jokes.’

‘Cringe!’

Over the tannoy, we’re instructed to take our seats as the performance will recommence in three minutes. I’m a little lightheaded from talking so freely about something that’s nothing to do with Jack or my life with him. A shard of guilt stabs me and I grab onto the bar, willing that freedom to return. But no. It’s gone. I should be here with Jack, not Si.