‘So what were you supposed to be doing tonight?’ asked Will.
‘Going to a party hosted by someone called Gideon.’
She could see Will suppressing a smile.
‘What’s wrong with the name Gideon?’
‘Nothing,’ said Will. ‘Nothing at all. It’s just . . . I can picture him, just from the name.’
Amy snorted.
‘The stereotype actually fits in this case. But then most of Daniel’s friends were like that: public school, protected, very pleased with themselves.’
‘Daniel? Is he your boyfriend?’
‘Ex-boyfriend.’
Will glanced across.
‘Ex? But the other day. Your big night out. Georgia’s dress. The result dress.’
‘Well, things change,’ she said briskly. ‘Turns out he was sleeping with a tall, thin banker called Harriet. He gave her something from Tiffany for Christmas.’
Will’s eyes widened.
‘He told you this?’
‘No, I found the “something from Tiffany” in his sock drawer before Christmas. I thought it was my engagement ring,’ she said. ‘Can you believe that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I. So, would you have been going to this party if it wasn’t for me forcing you into going?’ asked Amy.
‘Probably not. No date, you see. Turn up without a girlfriend and the family start asking all sorts of awkward questions.’
‘You don’t have a girlfriend?’
‘Hard to imagine, I know,’ he said with the hint of a smile.
He paused, turning back to the road.
‘Actually, I did. Until last summer. Then I found out she was sleeping with a tall, thin lawyer called Jonathan. No Tiffany box, but they had been on a mini-break together under my nose.’
Amy looked at him.
‘That sucks.’
‘I haven’t really had time to dwell on it. Work has been busy.’
‘The plays? Well, it’s good you’re getting work.’
He laughed.
‘Not you too. Seems the standard reaction to telling anyone you’re a playwright is “Oh, you can make a living out of that?”’
‘Sorry, I should know better,’ said Amy. ‘When I tell people I’m a dancer, they automatically assume I’m unemployed.’
‘So what might I have seen you in?’ He looked over, his dark eyes flashing.