Page 90 of The Spark

‘Was that why you were crying? Was it to do with... you and me?’

She takes a breath, as if we’re about to really get into it, then seems to change her mind. ‘No, it... Like I said. People get emotional when they’re being massaged. It’s something to do with all the toxins, apparently.’

She’s clearly not ready to open up, which I can’t really blame her for. Besides, this hardly feels like the right moment, on what is supposed to be a pre-birthday treat – not to mention the space we’re in being quieter than a library.

‘I think we should talk. About Jamie, you and me, everything,’ I say. ‘But this... doesn’t feel like quite the place to do it.’

She smiles. ‘Agreed. I heard someone fart earlier and it was louder than a jumbo jet.’

Our drinks arrive.

‘What are you doing for your actual birthday?’ I ask, taking a sip of prosecco. I don’t usually drink during the day, and I feel the alcohol spin straight to my head.

‘Felix is taking me to Rome,’ she says, slightly bashfully.

‘Wow, Lar. That’s exciting.’

‘I know. I’ve always wanted to go, properly. I worked there on a TV show when I was starting out and never really got to enjoy it, so it’s always been kind of a bucket-list place for me. Spanish Steps, Colosseum, all that history and romance and culture. We’ve got tickets to the opera. And our hotel room has a private terrace and the most insane views...’

‘Sounds incredible.’

‘I know what you’re thinking.’

‘What am I thinking?’

‘That he’s flash, all about the money.’

‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ I say, even as I’m wondering, Was I?

‘You’re wrong, anyway.’

I shake my head. ‘Lar, he’s your boyfriend, he’s spoiling you. Why shouldn’t he? It’s romantic.’

She smiles faintly. ‘Yeah. Anyway. It wasn’t so long ago that Ash was sweeping you off to Europe on a romantic break.’

Even his name feels like a corkscrew to my stomach. ‘Actually... Ash and me... We’re not together any more.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Ah, it all came out. About Jamie.’

She releases a long, disappointed breath. ‘He didn’t take it well?’

‘Let’s just say my delivery could have been better. I didn’t actually tell him directly. He overheard me talking to his mum about it.’

Lara looks mildly horrified. ‘His mum?’

‘There was prosecco.’ Sheepishly, I lift the glass I’m drinking from. ‘And it was a family dinner. Although to be honest, it felt more like a funeral by the time he threw me out.’

I can’t bring myself to mention that Juliet practically dragged it out of me. Because it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t have to say a word.

Lara makes a face like she’s watching a road traffic accident in slow motion. ‘So, he overheard you telling his mum... then what?’

‘Well, he kind of lost it, then ended it.’

She swears softly. ‘When was this?’

‘Last weekend.’

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