'I don't want any coffee,' I say, as the waiter helps me on with my coat.
'Mint tea, then. Chocolates! I ordered you a box of Godiva truffles' His tone is entreating,
and just for an instant I waver. I love Godiva truffles.
But no, I've made up my mind.
'I don't care,' I gulp. 'I'm going. Thank you very much,' I add to the waiter. 'How did you
know I wanted my coat?'
'We make it our business to know,' says the waiter discreetly.
'You see?' I say to Jack. 'They know me.'
There's an instant in which we stare at each other.
'Fine,' says Jack at last, and gives a resigned shrug. 'Fine. Daniel will take you home. He
should be waiting outside in the car.'
'I'm not going home in your car!' I say in horror. 'I'll make my own way, thanks.'
'Emma. Don't be stupid.'
'Goodbye. And thanks very much,' I add to the waiter. 'You were all very attentive and nice to
me.'
I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it's started to rain. And I don't have an umbrella.
Well, I don't care. I'm going anyway. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on the wet
pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where I am. I
don't even know where the nearest tube is, or where
Hang on. There's a bus stop. I look down the numbers and see one that goes to Islington.
Well, fine. I'll take the bus home. And then I'll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. And maybe
some icecream in front of the telly.
It's one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking God my hair
won't get any wetter. I'm just staring blankly at a car advertisement, wondering what that
Haagen-Dazs pudding tasted like and whether the meringue was the stiff white kind or that
gorgeous chewy, caramel kind, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.
I don't believe it.
'Please,' says Jack, getting out. 'Let me take you home.'
'No,' I say, without turning my head.
'You can't stay here in the rain.'
'Yes I can. Some of us live in the real world, you know.'
I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster about AIDS. The next moment Jack has
arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine and for a while we're
both silent.
'I know I was terrible company this evening,' he says eventually. 'And I'm sorry. I'm also sorry
I can't tell you anything about it. But my life is complicated. And some bits of it are very
delicate. Do you understand?'
No, I want to say. No, I don't understand, when I've told you every single little thing about me.
'I suppose,' I say, with a tiny shrug.
The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creeping into
my Jemima's silver sandals. God, I hope it won't stain them.
'I'm sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,' says Jack, lifting his voice above the
noise.
'It wasn't,' I say, suddenly feeling bad. 'I just I had such high hopes! I wanted to get to
know you a bit, and I wanted to have fun and for us to laugh and I wanted one of those
pink cocktails, not champagne'
Shit. Shit . That slipped out before I could stop it.
'But you like champagne!' says Jack, looking stunned. 'You told me. Your perfect date
would start off with
champagne.'
I can't quite meet his eye.
'Yes, well. I didn't know about the pink cocktails then, did I?'
Jack throws back his head and laughs.
'Fair point. Very fair point. And I didn't even give you a choice, did I?' He shakes his head
ruefully. 'You were probably sitting there thinking, damn this guy, can't he tell I want a pink
cocktail?'
'No!' I say at once, but my cheeks are turning crimson, and Jack is looking at me with such a
comical expression that I want to hug him.
'Oh Emma. I'm sorry.' He shakes his head. 'I wanted to get to know you too. And I wanted to
have fun, too. It sounds like we both wanted the same things. And it's my fault we didn't get
them.'
'It's not your fault,' I mumble awkwardly.
'This is not the way I planned for things to go.' He looks at me seriously. 'Will you give me
another chance?'
A big red double-decker bus rumbles up to the bus stop, and we both look up.
'I've got to go,' I say, standing up. 'This is my bus.'
'Emma, don't be silly. Come in the car.'
'No. I'm going on the bus!'
The automatic doors open, and I step onto the bus. I show my travelcard to the driver and he
nods.
'You're seriously considering riding on this thing?' says Jack, stepping on behind me. He peers
dubiously at the usual motley collection of night bus riders. 'Is this safe ?'
'You sound like my grandpa! Of course it's safe. It goes to the end of my road.'
'Hurry up!' says the driver impatiently to Jack. 'If you haven't got the money, get off.'
'I have American Express,' says Jack, feeling in his pocket.
'You can't pay a bus fare with American Express!' I say, rolling my eyes. 'Don't you know
anything? And anyway.' I stare at my travelcard for a few seconds. 'I think I'd rather be on my
own, if you don't mind.'
'I see,' says Jack in a different voice. 'I guess I'd better get off,' he says to the driver. Then he