‘Of course! And Gareth, presumably?’

‘Well yeah, if he’s speaking to me by then,’ Lana said grimly, her enthusiasm waning as she beckoned for the waiter to bring her another glass of white.

‘What? But I thought he came up on Friday?’

‘He did. And he was meant to stay Saturday night too, but we had this big row.’

The waiter arrived with the wine and Lana went on to tell Judith what had happened.

Within two days of arriving in Guildford, she’d read an advert on the college noticeboard: auditions were being held for burlesque dancers at an exclusive club in the town centre. Lana had gone for it and been offered the job. ‘I mean, it’s brilliant – because it’s performance-based. So I’m earning money – fifteen quid a show, Jude! – for doing something that will better my career.’

‘Burlesque? But isn’t that, like, y’know, stripping?’

‘Jesus, Jude, you’re as bad as Gareth. No! It’s an age-old art form, thank you very much. An established performance tradition.’

Judith raised a cynical eyebrow and listened as Lana went on to explain that Gareth had been put out that their Friday night was being taken up partly with her having to perform, and how he’d only managed to stay for the first twenty minutes of the show. ‘He walked out! Can you believe it? Said he couldn’t bear watching me “get my kit off for a load of drunks”. I was furious.’

‘Sorry, Larn, but he’s got a point,’ said Judith, venturing on to dangerous territory.

‘But I didn’t get my kit off! Anyway, it wasn’t just that. When I introduced him to the rest of the housemates, Clint asked him what theatre he’d seen recently and he said Jack and the Beanstalk when he was ten!’

Judith nearly spat out her ginger beer laughing, though Lana was not amused. ‘He was just being deliberately difficult. And we had sex and it was rubbish. Like Chinese takeaway. Y’know, good in the moment, but ultimately unfulfilling.’

‘Oh poor Gareth,’ smiled Judith. ‘And you’re still not speaking?’

‘Kind of. He left yesterday morning, then I rang him last night. Y’know what he’s like.’

‘Well, not really,’ said Judith, spearing the final prawn.

‘He’s not a sulker. He’d spent the day taking his bike apart, so I think that took his mind off things.’

‘Well, maybe it was too soon for him to come up and see you. I mean, you’d only been gone a week.’

‘Exactly. Anyway, it all worked out for the best, because …’ and Lana’s face lit up again, ‘I went to this incredible performance-art class yesterday morning, which I’d have missed if Gareth had stayed, so swings and roundabouts.’

Judith looked a bit out of her depth as Lana described the class. It was run by a woman called Belle, who Lana thought was ‘the most amazing woman I’ve ever met’. Belle had asked them all to share with the group a personal and intimate life experience that would invoke in them some strong emotion, the idea being that they could ‘bank’ this and ‘use’ it later on when playing a part. One girl on her course, Lydia, had told them all about how she’d been cornered in a barn by a herd of cows when she was twelve. The next day she’d started her periods. Lana had thought this was funny, but apparently was the only one in her class who did. Belle told them it was a significant milestone for Lydia, the herd of cows symbolizing ‘the feminine’, and that Lydia being cornered by them reflected her resistance to puberty. She’d asked Lydia to stand in the middle of the circle and re-enact her experience. But without using words.