‘I'm a bit knackered. I've got an early start tomorrow. I'm going to make a move.’
‘Oh.’ Callum put on his little-boy-lost face. Once she'd have thought that endearing. Tonight it just irritated her. ‘Please stay, pretty please.’
‘Sorry, Callum,’ said Emily, thrilled with the sudden realisation that, after all, this was going to be easy. She should have done it months ago. ‘I've got to go.’
‘Ring me,’ he said, trying to give her a kiss on the mouth.
She brushed him aside. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Sorry, Callum, but it's over. I won't be ringing you again.’
He looked gratifyingly open-mouthed at this news, but he didn't try to stop her from leaving. Instead, he shrugged and turned back towards the heaving crowd. No doubt by the end of the evening there would be a replacement. Emily made her way to the door, with an ever lighter heart. This really was the way the world ended, then, with not a bang, but the merest of whimpers. But even whimpers could feel great …
‘So you've finally dumped Callum?’
Katie had persuaded Emily to join her in the park on Saturday afternoon. It was a dull grey day, and with Charlie in Amsterdam, doing whatever he did to make sure that mergers happened and financial strategies were sorted, Katie didn't fancy being on her own and was feeling rather gloomy. Not that she would ever admit that to Emily. Katie had always found it hard to confide in people, even her closest friend.
If she were more suspicious, Katie might think Charlie was having an affair. But this was Charlie, Mr Ultra Conservative. He was so uptight and rigid in his views; he would never do anything to sully the reputation of the Caldwell Clan – or at least nothing to offend his domineering mother. Sometimes, Katie thought wistfully, he seemed more in awe and worried about his mother's feelings than he did about hers. But then Marilyn Caldwell was a formidable woman, and the whole family seemed to kowtow to her.
‘Yup,’ said Emily. ‘I suddenly thought: what am I doing with my life? What am I doing with him? And I don't know. I just had the strongest feeling that my dad wouldn't have liked him. And suddenly I couldn't go on with it. Does that sound a bit weird? When Dad was alive I never thought twice about whether or not he liked my boyfriends.’
‘No,’ said Katie. ‘Not weird at all. Grief does funny things to us sometimes. Either we see more clearly, or we don't see things at all. I think what's happened to you in the last few months has just woken you up to the fact that Callum was a complete tosser.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Emily. ‘So glad to know you hold my boyfriends in such high esteem.’
‘Only that one,’ said Katie. ‘And if you go out with him again, I promise to be a good girly friend and say of course it was completely wrong of me to call him a tosser.’
Aidan ran up at that moment, claiming that George had kicked him, so Katie decided maybe now was a good time to go home.
‘Will you stay for a drink?’ she asked, hoping she didn't sound too desperate for company.
‘I'd love to,’ said Emily. ‘After all, I haven't got anything else on. We could have a really girly evening and watch Fame to get us in the mood for next week if you like.’
‘So we're going again, next week?’ While Katie had found Rob irritating, it had been so nice to go dancing again, but she had been unsure as to whether Emily wanted to repeat the experiment. But if she did then sod Charlie. If he could go swanning about in Europe, she didn't see why she had to live like a Wall Street widow.
‘Of course,’ said Emily. ‘I'm a free agent now, remember. And I think Mark deserves another look, don't you?’
Emily stood nervously in the corner of the studio. As had happened the previous week, people seemed to be just grabbing partners and dancing. The music was Latin American, and the dancers seemed to be doing what she presumed was the rumba. She envied the relaxed way they all seemed to move their hips with such fluid, slinky ease, but, watching one couple getting incredibly intimate, she wondered if she would ever even have the nerve to dance like that in public, even if she did master the steps.
However, no one had yet asked her to dance. Which was probably just as well, as although she was watching the fancy footwork of some of the more experienced dancers with fascination, she couldn't image ever being able to do it herself. Oh God … why on earth was she here?
She should have wimped out the minute that Katie rang up to cancel – Molly had been struck down by a tummy bug, apparently. Emily had been treated to a blow-by-blow account of every bowel evacuation that poor little Molly had had over the last twenty-four hours. She loved Katie dearly, but really. Sometimes you could have too much information.
Much as she envied Katie her family life, here was one reason she was immensely glad not to be shacked up with kids. Especially not with Cheerful Charlie. Emily had never warmed to him. He was pleasant enough, charming even, but there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on – it was as though he was only ever partly involved in his family. But as Katie always seemed so content, and claimed that her life was perfect in every way, Emily had always assumed that theirs was a happy marriage. So what if Charlie wasn't her cup of tea? If he ticked Katie's boxes, that was enough for her.
Emily frowned. Katie, who was the most repressed person she had ever met, would never ever admit that things weren't right, but Emily couldn't help feeling something was wrong. Katie had barely mentioned Charlie the last time they'd met, and the few times Emily saw them together Charlie seemed incredibly distant. In the meantime, Katie was developing a weird kind of cleaning fetish. Emily blamed Anthea Turner, whom Katie had actually started quoting as if she was Shakespeare.
‘Penny for ‘em?’ Emily looked up and was surprised and pleased to see Mark standing next to her. ‘Just wondering what I'm doing here, again,’ she said. A warm glow suffused her. How stupid. She barely knew Mark. ‘Me too,’ said Mark. ‘Rob was busy tonight. I wasn't going to come, but …’
There was a lot left in that but. Was it a but that said, I just thought it would be fun? Or a but that said, I wanted to see you again? Or maybe it was just a but that meant nothing at all. Poor little but, thought Emily, so very lonely …
‘I'm sorry?’ Mark looked puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’
Oh bloody hell, Emily must have let that last bit slip out loud.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she gabbled. ‘Sometimes I have weird random thoughts. And sometimes in a weird random way they flow from my mouth, without me realising it. I think it's because I live on my own.’
‘Oh,’ said Mark. He looked around. ‘Your friend not with you today?’
‘Nope,’ said Emily. She had been about to mention Molly being ill, but as Katie had been adamant she didn't want to give anything away about her private life, she said instead, ‘She was busy this week.’
‘But you came anyway?’ That flash of a smile, utterly dazzling, had a rather unsettling effect on Emily.
‘Oh, you know. I thought since I was so good last week, I'd come and show them all
