‘Karl’s jacket started buzzing next to me. I hoped it might be Josh trying to get through and I rummaged in the pocket and found the phone. It was Josh. He’d left a text. I tried Karl’s usual code but it didn’t work. I looked up; he was still over by the pillar charming the cassock off the vicar, his voice just that bit too loud, his laugh slightly over exuberant, being demonstrably entertaining company. I paused for a moment and tried the Sky code. Bullseye. I went to his texts: Running late just missed bus. J. I was about to put the phone straight back into Karl’s pocket when I noticed that the previous text hadn’t been read either. It was from X. I don’t know why I looked. But I did. You make me SOOO wet when you say things like that XX. Delete!!

‘I read it several times. I checked the number.

‘Yes. It was her. It was Ness.

‘It was as if my spirit rose out of my body. Up I went above the pews. I could see myself sitting there with Karl’s phone in my hand, stock still, paused in a moment of time. I looked over at her at the piano by the pulpit, flicking her frizzy fucking hair, laughing a new silvery laugh, eyes flashing, in her element, surrounded by adoration, throwing a glance towards the pillar where Karl stood. They were parallel to each other, separate but connected, like they were dancing with each other, like they existed only for each other. I saw it all quite clearly.

‘I stood up, back in my body with a thud, my blood rampaging through my veins. I had to get out of there as quickly as possible. I shuffled past my father, not even taking my bag, past the people along the pew to the comparative safety of the aisle, heading for the exit. I felt sick. I heard someone call my name but didn’t turn. I had one thought: I needed a Lorazepam now. I put my hand in my deep coat pocket but instead of the Lorazepams, my fingers found something else, something that might offer me far greater results. I stopped in my tracks. I turned around. I could see her. There she was, leaning against the piano, looking up, laughing, tossing her hair about, leaning forward, showing her cleavage.

‘I hated her.