She angled her head and gazed at him. ‘You have so much anger towards me.’

‘Stop it! Stop twisting everything.’

‘Said the lawyer. How’s Sahara, Savannah, whatever the hell she’s called?’ She winced at herself; she hadn’t meant it to come out like this.

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

He laughed, took a few steps away from the table and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Have you been following me?’ He sounded really annoyed.

‘I came to meet you but discovered you were otherwise engaged.’

He looked at her, aghast. ‘What do you take me for? She’s my best friend’s girlfriend, for Christ’s sake.’

‘Ha! That old chestnut.’ She bent down and picked up her glass.

‘What? Go on then! Ask me the question! Oh, you can’t because it might make you look too needy.’

‘Well, are you?’ she said, tapping out another cigarette.

‘Am I what?’

She lit up and inhaled as if she had all the time in the world. ‘Are you screwing her?’

He shook his head with disbelief. ‘No, I am not screwing her. She came to meet me because we’re planning a surprise party for Adrian’s birthday. OK?’

Emma chuckled and then laughed out loud.

‘Is that so funny?’

‘A surprise party! How original, your honour.’

‘You drink too much, you know that?’

She looked at him. ‘You hate me, Si. Underneath it all, you hate me. Just admit it.’

‘What?’

‘You’ll never forgive me.’

‘Don’t, Emma,’ he said. ‘Don’t start this now. You’re drunk.’

‘We don’t even talk about her any more. We don’t even say her name.’

He was silent, head bowed, eyes on his feet.

‘Say it!’ she said.

‘No, I’m not doing this.’

‘Say it!’

‘No.’

She stood up; she was angry now. ‘Just fucking say it, Si! Say that you blame me! Say that it was my fault!’

He looked up then. His bottom lip was trembling but his voice was steady. ‘Maybe you’re the one who needs to say it.’

Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter 18

Dr. R is distracted today; she’s flushed and her mascara has smudged a little beneath her left eye. She’s all in black, no glimpses of a neon strap, and I’m very surprised to notice that her earrings are two tiny skulls; beneath her rectangular veneer there is a wannabe rebel. She tucks her hair and cocks her head to focus on me but the notebook on her lap is upside down, negating any semblance of togetherness. I wait for the Squeak to shift her bulk before I say anything.

‘Had a fight?’ I ask. Dr. R is not wearing her wedding ring. She sees me looking at her finger and covers it up.

‘Don’t tell me it’s that girl from the orchestra.’

She crosses her legs and does a good job of ignoring me.