‘I guess so. But this much? I mean, you don’t even know the full story. My brother, Tony, we found out that he . . . he did something. Something horrific. I can’t . . . I’m sorry, I don’t think I can even say it.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘And now I don’t even know who’s going to turn up to his funeral on Monday. It’s the weirdest feeling in the world. I mean, who’s going to speak? What are they going to say? Is it okay that I still want to be there?

Sage’s fingers closed around his hand. ‘Look, obviously I don’t know what Tony did and I’m not going to push you to find out, but I can see that it has you badly rattled. But as for going to his funeral, of course it’s okay if you want to be there. This is about how you feel, not what you think others expect of you. He was your brother — if you want to say goodbye to him, you don’t have to feel bad about that, regardless of what he did.’

Darren nodded. ‘I guess you’re right. I will tell you . . . eventually. I think I need to tell you, to be honest. I just can’t right now.’

‘There’s no rush.’

They both picked up their drinks and sipped quietly for a few moments.

‘Right,’ said Darren eventually, ‘let’s talk about something else. Anything else. Tell me, how did you know so much about ballet when you were only pretending that was what you did for a living?’

Sage gave him a slightly sad smile. ‘I was wondering if you might ask me that.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s what I wanted to be when I was young. What I thought I would be actually. I was a dancer as a kid, right through to my teen years. I was really serious about it. But I had a fall when I was sixteen. Hurt my ankle. And bang, that was it, dream over.’

‘Really? The injury was that bad?’

‘It was. It got better eventually, but I missed out on some crucial stages in my competitions and my ankle was never the same. So that was that.’

‘That’s awful, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay. I mean, yes, it sucked. And that’s why it was fun to pretend that night with your ex, to imagine for a bit that I did get to pursue my dreams. But I’m fine. I like what I do. Though speaking of dreams, let’s talk about yours.’

Darren made a face. ‘Mine? Umm, I think mine are dead now too.’

‘Explain. What’s going on with your writing? Why haven’t you written your next book?’ ‘Well . . .’ he began.

‘And if you say you can’t write because of my review, I can tell you now that’s bullshit.’