Страница 40

actually.

'Tiny hitch,' I smile at Jack, and press the new bell.

There's silence. I wait a few minutes, then try again, and again. There's no reply. OK. So…

it's not this one either.

Fuck.

I am a moron. Why didn't I check the address? I was just so sure I'd remember where it was.

'Is there a problem?' says Jack.

'No!' I say at once, and smile brightly. 'I'm just trying to recall exactly…'

I look up and down the street, trying not to panic. Which one was it? Am I going to have to

ring every single doorbell in the street? I take a few steps along the pavement, trying to trigger

my memory. And then, through an arch, I spy another alley, almost identical to this one.

I feel a huge thud of horror. Am I in the right alley, even? I dart forward and peer into the

other alley. It looks exactly the same. Rows of nondescript doors and blanked-out windows.

My heart starts to beat more quickly. What am I going to do? I can't try every single doorbell

in every bloody alley in the vicinity. It never once occurred to me that this might happen. Not

once. I never even thought to-

OK, I'm being stupid. I'll call Lissy! She'll tell me. I pull out my mobile and dial home, but

immediately it clicks onto answerphone.

'Hi, Lissy, it's me,' I say, trying to sound light and casual. 'A tiny little hitch has happened,

which is that I can't remember exactly which door the club is behind. Or actually… which

alley it's in either. So if you get this, could you give me a call? Thanks!'

I look up to see Jack watching me.

'Everything OK?'

'Just a slight glitch,' I say, and give a relaxed little laugh. 'There's this secret club along here

somewhere, but I can't quite remember where.'

'Never mind,' says Jack nicely. 'These things happen.'

I jab the number for home again, but it's engaged. Quickly I dial Lissy's mobile number, but

it's switched off.

Oh fuck. Fuck. We can't stand here in the street all night.

'Emma,' says Jack cautiously. 'Would you like me to make a reservation at-'

'No!' I jump as though stung. Jack's not going to reserve anything. I've said I'll organize this

evening, and I will. 'No thanks. It's OK.' I make a snap decision. 'Change of plan. We'll go to

Antonio's instead.'

'I could call the car…' begins Jack.

'We don't need the car!' I stride purposefully towards the main road and thank God, a taxi's

coming along with its light on. I flag it down, open the door for Jack and say to the driver,

'Hi, Antonio's on Sanderstead Road in Clapham, please.'

Hurrah. I have been grown-up and decisive and saved the situation.

'Where's Antonio's?' says Jack, as the taxi begins to speed away.

'It's a bit out of the way, in south London. But it's really nice. Lissy and I used to go there

when we lived in Wandsworth. It's got huge pine tables, and gorgeous food, and sofas and

stuff. And they never chivvy you.'

'It sounds perfect.' Jack smiles, and I smile proudly back.

OK, it should not take this long to get from Clerkenwell to Clapham. We should have got

there ages ago. I mean, it's only down the road!

After about half an hour, I lean forward and say to the driver yet again, 'Is there a problem?'

'Traffic, love.' He gives an easy shrug. 'What can you do?'

You can find a clever traffic-avoiding back route like taxi drivers are supposed to! I want to

yell furiously. But instead I say politely, 'So… how long do you think it'll be before we get

there?'

'Who knows?'

I sink back on my seat, feeling my stomach churning with frustration.

We should have gone somewhere in Clerkenwell. Or Covent Garden. I am such a moron…

'Emma, don't worry,' says Jack. 'I'm sure it'll be great when we get there.'

'I hope so,' I say with a weak smile.

I can't make small talk. I'm using every ounce of concentration in willing the taxi to go faster.