‘Of course!’ and ‘Absolutely!’ came chorusing from all directions. Tilly was clearly popular with those who’d already made her acquaintance, and an object of fascination among those who hadn’t. Amy bit back a groan, though she felt intense relief that Tilly wouldn’t be with them all night.
‘Amy?’ Sam said. She forced herself to look up at him, painting a smile on her face that she hoped wouldn’t look as insincere as it felt.Helooked almost nervous. Guilty, maybe, or as though he might feel sorry for her.
There was no way Amy could let Sam labour under the misapprehension that seeing him and Tilly together bothered her in any way. She refused to give him the satisfaction of believing it made her uncomfortable or– heaven forbid– jealous.
‘Of course! Sorry! I was a thousand miles away,’ she said, shaking out her hair and standing up straighter. ‘Such a mad day at work.’ Then she turned to Tilly and said, ‘I’m Amy. Great to meet you.’ The smile she flashed in Tilly’s direction was so wide and sweet it could single-handedly have won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.
‘Likewise,’ Tilly said, smiling back with the quiet, innate confidence of a naturally gorgeous person. A person who Amy felt sure wouldneverget lost inside her boyfriend’s stately mansion, or have a physical fight with him over Tupperware, and almost certainly hadn’t spent her formative years being referred to as ‘spooky doll girl’.
Forty minutes later, the Rowton Readers were settled in their seats and awaiting the start of the show.
In yet another sign that some divine force had set its will against her, Amy was sat next to Sam; not merely in the same room as him, which she’d imagined would be bad enough– but in the immediately adjacent square foot of space.
The air between them felt like it was full of static– as if a single word or the briefest physical contact might cause an electric shock. Amy felt wretched and furious, for reasons she chose not to unravel.
Among her many complaints was the effect his fragrance had on her. Really, did he have to smell so bloodywonderfulall the time? Also, she considered it a personal affront that his stupidface– which she hadn’t seen up close in weeks– was glowing. A light sprinkling of freckles had appeared across his nose since the last time they’d met, and his eyes seemed to have darkened in contrast with his hair, which suddenly boasted sandy, sun-brightened streaks.
Amy stared resolutely at the programme she’d bought on the way in, pretending to read the director’s explanation of her vision for this ‘fresh, modern and feminist’ rendition of a four-hundred-year-old play. The words wobbled in front of Amy’s eyes as phrases like ‘repressed emotions’, ‘eavesdropping’ and ‘deception of the self’ failed to hit their intellectual mark.
Instead of focusing on what was in front of her, she struggled to subdue a rising tide of memories: visions of herself and Sam being instructed by Mr Bradley to read the roles of Beatrice and Benedick during Year Twelve English lessons. ‘One might as well make the most of your natural tendency to spar,’ he’d said.
BENEDICK: It is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted.
BEATRICE: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me … You always end with a jade’s trick: I know you of old.
How would she bear this? There couldn’t be a more awkward play for the two of them to sit through together. Amy twisted her hands in her lap, then fidgeted in her chair.
Sam nudged her with his elbow. Reluctantly, she looked up.
‘Are you okay?’ he whispered, his thick, honey-coloured eyebrows drawn together.
‘Fine,’ she whispered back, in a tone that strongly suggested she might be plotting his imminent murder.
‘I don’t understand what’s going on here,’ he said, his voice low and deliberately even. He was trying to sound calm but not quite succeeding. ‘Have I done something?’
Amy scowled at him as the answer to his question took shape in her mind:You turned up here tonight with a woman you’re almost certainly shagging– and for no sane reason I can fathom, it’s made me want to ugly-cry.
Instead of saying this out loud, she hissed: ‘I don’t know,haveyou?’
Sam rolled his eyes and Amy sensed the right side of this argument sliding away from her at speed.
‘If there’s a reason why you’ve been avoiding me,’ Sam told her, ‘I wish you’d just say.’
‘I amnot“avoiding you”,’ Amy said derisively, performing an inverted commas gesture with her index fingers. ‘I’ve been busy. Setting up a new book imprint single-handed is quite a lot of work, believe it or not.’
‘Is this the part where you imply I have no idea what having a real job feels like because I’m the son of a lord?’ Sam asked, his voice hot and indignant. Goosebumps broke out on Amy’s forearms, exposed in her thin shirt.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Amy muttered, feeling almost intoxicated by the slip in his composure. ‘I haven’t said anything of the sort.’
‘You didn’tneedto, Amy. You’re obviously pissed off with me about something, it’s written all over your face. And typically, the thing you find it easiest to punish me for is being “posh”– whether or not that has anything to do with the actual problem. So go on, let me have it: shouldn’t I be in the royal box, or at a fox hunt, or stoning some peasants to death, et cetera, et cetera? Or– andhere’sa novel idea!– you could justbe honest with me. Tell me what’s on your mind, oraskme the question you want answered. I’d never lie to you.’
Amy stared at him in surprise, feeling like he might as well have punched her in the stomach. Fruitlessly, she scrabbled for something to say back. Every caustic retort she came up with fell short, and as the spotlights lit up the first actors who walked on stage, her mouth was still hanging open.
Throughout the first half of the play, Amy’s shock was replaced by a fizzing, smouldering anger. There were several moments when she seriously considered whether she had the physical strength to strangle Sam but, to her dismay, these thoughts quickly degenerated into wondering what the stubble on his throat would feel like under her palms … Whether he’d protest if she cupped his jaw with her hands, then covered his glowering lips with hers.
The moment the interval began, Sam was up and out of his seat. He was at the end of the aisle, and thus able to make a sharp exit without clambering over anyone– a smooth, wordless departure he completed within seconds. Amy swallowed a sudden swell of disappointment.
‘Blimey, someone needed the loo sharpish,’ Simon said loudly from a few seats away. Dave– seated on Amy’s other side– shuffled and snorted. He’d been half asleep since the second his backside hit the red velvet-covered cushion of his chair over an hour ago, and if he’d overheard any of her earlier exchange with Sam, he already seemed to have forgotten it.
