‘Look, he’s kept his trainers on!’ shouted Jonny. ‘I’ve got to get a photo of this.’
I sat down and sent a silent prayer to the skinny-dipper who’d bought me some precious moments to pull myself together.
This was crazy. I wasn’t afraid of heights. And the hangover bit was a lie. Then it hit me: this was claustrophobia.
But it was absurd. It’s one thing to be frightened in a lift – a small, enclosed space – but to be having a panic attack in a glass-fronted space the size of my bedroom was madness.
I was losing my mind. In front of Jonny fucking Delaney. I was damned if I was going to show him any sign of weakness. I needed to concentrate on the job in hand. My heart flapped like a panicked bird, but I gritted my teeth. This was for the future ofRe:Sound. I could bloody well pull myself together for thirty-nine more minutes.
Jonny slid onto the bench next to me. He held up his phone to show me the picture he’d taken. I smiled gamely, not sure if the pixelated image was down to his lack of focusing skills or whether my eyes were refusing to play ball. He could have been showing me the Loch Ness monster for all I knew.
I pulled my dictaphone from my pocket, trying to concentrate on the screen that seemed to get blurrier the more I looked at it.
‘Jonny, mate,’ said Nick from the other side. ‘David’s got a great shot of the Houses of Parliament from here. We need you in the picture, too. The Americans will love this.’
Jonny got up and I swear the whole pod rocked. I looked up in panic, but no one seemed to have noticed. I clenched and unclenched my fists and exhaled. David was shouting encouragement to Jonny about where the light was best, but every click of his camera made my heart knock louder. I wanted to scream, but more than anything I wanted to get out of here.
Nick walked towards me and the floor lurched up and down. Except Nick was acting like everything was fine. Why could nobody else feel this damn thing swinging like a see-saw?
He sat down on the bench beside me, as calm as anything. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe but a weight pressed down on my chest, and like an over-zealous bouncer, was refusing air entry into my lungs.
‘How good are your capitals?’
I jerked my head sideways, trying to calm my jumpy pulse. ‘Are you... are you... talking to me?’
Nick nodded. ‘I was at a pub quiz the other night. Can you believe that none of my team got the capital of Australia right? And before you ask, no, I wasn’t there with the other member of Hands Down.’
My mouth was dry, but I almost managed a smile. ‘It’s Canberra.’
‘That’s what I said, but I was shouted down.’
‘Right.’
The pod rocked again, but still no one reacted. Nick seemed lost in thought about his damned pub quiz. I held my breath, waiting to see if the pod would move again. Maybe it had been a gust of wind.
‘They put Auckland as the capital of New Zealand.’
‘What?’
‘Auckland instead of Wellington. Can you believe that?’
I shook my head, and Nick continued, the indignation written on his face. ‘At least we all agreed that Rio was the capital of Brazil.’
‘It’s Brasilia,’ I said, on a shaky breath.
He frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘The quizmaster gave me the point, though.’
‘I bet she did.’
He held my eye and I realised that, for a couple of seconds, I’d forgotten my panic. All this talk about capitals had given my brain something else to do.
My lungs expanded and I took a proper breath.
He was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what I’m more offended about – that you think I don’t know Brasilia is the capital of Brazil or that I’d flirt to win a pub quiz.’
