He stops in shock as, with no warning, I hurl the gla.s.s teapot to the floor.

We both stare at it, stunned.

'It was supposed to break,' I explain after a pause. 'And that was going to signify that yes, I would throw something away. If I knew it wasn't right for me.'

'I think it has broken,' says Connor, picking it up and examining it. 'At least, there's a hairline crack.'

'There you go.'

'We could still use it-'

'No. We couldn't.'

'We could get some Sellotape.'

'But it would never work properly.' I clench my fists by my sides. 'It just ... wouldn't work.'

'I see,' says Connor after a pause.

And I think, finally, he does.

'Well ... I'll be off then,' he says at last. 'I'll phone the flat people and tell them that we're ...' He stops, and roughly wipes his nose.

'OK,' I say, in a voice which doesn't sound like mine. 'Can we keep it quiet from everyone at work?' I add. 'Just for the moment.'

'Of course,' he says gruffly. 'I won't say anything.'

He's halfway out of the door when abruptly he turns back, reaching in his pocket. 'Emma, here are the tickets for the jazz festival,' he says, his voice cracking a little. 'You have them.'

'What?' I stare at them in horror. 'No! Connor, you have them! They're yours!'

'You have them. I know how much you've been looking forward to hearing the Dennisson Quartet.' He pushes the brightly coloured tickets roughly into my hand and closes my fingers over them.

'I ... I ...' I swallow. 'Connor ... I just ... I don't know what to say.'

'We'll always have jazz,' says Connor in a choked-up voice, and closes the door behind him.

ELEVEN.

So now I have no promotion and no boyfriend. And puffy eyes from crying. And everyone thinks I'm mad.

'You're mad,' Jemima says, approximately every ten minutes. It's Sat.u.r.day morning, and we're in our usual routine of dressing gowns, coffee, and nursing hangovers. Or in my case, break-ups. 'You do realize you had him?' She frowns at her toenail, which she's painting baby pink. 'I would have predicted a rock on your finger within six months.'

'I thought you said I'd ruined all my chances by agreeing to move in with him,' I retort sulkily.

'Well, in Connor's case I think you would have been safe and dry.' She shakes her head. 'You're crazy.'

'Do you think I'm crazy?' I say, turning to Lissy, who's sitting in the rocking chair with her arm round her knees, eating a piece of raisin toast. 'Be honest.'

'Er ... no,' says Lissy unconvincingly. 'Of course not!'

'You do!'

'It's just ... you seemed like such a great couple.'

'I know we did. I know we looked great on the outside.' I pause, trying to explain. 'But the truth is, I never felt I was being myself. It was always a bit like we were acting. You know. It didn't seem real, somehow.'

'That's it?' interrupts Jemima, staring at me as though I'm talking gibberish. 'That's the reason you broke up?'

'It's a pretty good reason, don't you think?' says Lissy loyally.

Jemima stares at us both blankly.

'Of course not! Emma, if you'd just stuck it out and acted being the perfect couple for long enough, you would have become the perfect couple.'

'But ... but we wouldn't have been happy!'

'You would have been the perfect couple,' says Jemima, as though explaining something to a very stupid child.' Obviously you would have been happy.' She cautiously stands up, her toes splayed by bits of pink foam, and starts making her way towards the door. 'And anyway. Everyone pretends in a relationship.'

'No they don't! Or at least, they shouldn't.'

'Of course they should! All this being honest with each other is totally overrated.' She gives us a knowing look. 'My mother's been married to my father for thirty years, and he still has no idea she isn't a natural blonde.'

She disappears out of the room and I exchange glances with Lissy.

'Do you think she's right?' I say.

'No,' says Lissy uncertainly. 'Of course not! Relationships should be built on ... on trust ... and truth ...' She pauses, and looks at me anxiously. 'Emma, you never told me you felt that way about Connor.'

'I ... didn't tell anyone.'

This isn't quite true, I immediately realize. But I'm hardly going to tell my best friend that I told more to a complete stranger than to her, am I?

'Well, I really wish you'd confided in me more,' says Lissy earnestly. 'Emma, let's make a new resolution. We'll tell each other everything from now on. We shouldn't have secrets from one another, anyway. We're best friends!'

'It's a deal!' I say, with a sudden warm burst of emotion. Impulsively I lean forward and give her a hug.

Lissy's so right. We should confide in each other. We shouldn't keep things from each other. I mean, we've known each other for over twenty years, for G.o.d's sake.

'So, if we're telling each other everything ...' Lissy takes a bite of raisin toast and gives me a sidelong look. 'Did your chucking Connor have anything to do with that man? The man from the plane?'

I feel a tiny pang inside which I ignore by taking a sip of coffee.

Did it have anything to do with him? No. No, it didn't.

'No,' I say without looking up. 'Nothing.'

We both watch the television screen for a few moments, where Kylie Minogue is being interviewed.

'Oh, OK!' I say, suddenly remembering. 'So if we're asking each other questions ... what were you really doing with that guy Jean-Paul in your room?'

Lissy takes a breath.

'And don't tell me you were looking at case notes,' I add. 'Because that wouldn't make all that thumping b.u.mping noise.'

'Oh!' says Lissy, looking cornered. 'OK. Well ... we were ...' She takes a gulp of coffee and avoids my gaze. 'We were ... um ... having s.e.x.'

'What?' I stare at her, disconcerted.

'Yes. We were having s.e.x. That's why I didn't want to tell you. I was embarra.s.sed.'

'You and Jean-Paul were having s.e.x?'

'Yes!' She clears her throat. 'We were having pa.s.sionate ... raunchy ... animalistic s.e.x.'

There's something wrong here.

'I don't believe you,' I say, giving her a long look. 'You weren't having s.e.x.'

The pink dots on Lissy's cheeks deepen in colour.

'Yes we were!'

'No you weren't! Lissy, what were you really doing?'

'We were having s.e.x, OK?' says Lissy agitatedly. 'He's my new boyfriend and ... that's what we were doing! Now just leave me alone.' She gets up fl.u.s.teredly, scattering raisin toast crumbs, and heads out of the room, tripping slightly on the rug.

I stare after her, completely agog.

Why is she lying? What on earth was she doing in there? What's more embarra.s.sing than s.e.x, for G.o.d's sake? I'm so intrigued I almost feel cheered up.

To be honest, it's not the greatest weekend of my life. It's made even less great when the post arrives and I get a postcard from Mum and Dad from Le Spa Meridien, telling me what a fantastic time they're having. And even less great when I read my horoscope in the Mail, and it tells me I may just have made a big mistake.

But by Monday morning, I'm feeling better. I haven't made a mistake. My new life starts today. I'm going to forget all about love and romance and concentrate on my career. Maybe I'll even look for a new job.

As I come out of the tube station, I start to like this idea a lot. I'll apply for a job as Marketing Executive at Coca-Cola or somewhere. And I'll get it. And Paul will suddenly realize what a terrible mistake he made, not promoting me. And he'll ask me to stay, but I'll say, 'It's too late. You had your chance.' And then he'll beg, 'Emma, is there anything I can do to change your mind?' And then I'll say- By the time I reach the office, Paul is grovelling on the floor as I sit nonchalantly on his desk, holding one knee (I also seem to be wearing a new trouser suit and Prada shoes) saying, 'You know, Paul, all you had to do was treat me with a little respect-'

s.h.i.t, My eyes focus and I stop in my tracks, hand on the gla.s.s doors. There's a blond head in the foyer.

Connor. A wave of panic overcomes me. I can't go in there. I can't do it. I can't- Then the head moves, and it's not Connor at all, it's Andrea from Accounts. I push the door open, feeling like a complete moron. G.o.d, I'm a mess. I have to get a grip of myself, because I will run into Connor before too long, and I'm just going to have to handle it.

At least no-one at work knows yet, I think as I walk up the stairs. That would make things a million times harder. To have people coming up to me and saying- 'Emma, I'm so sorry to hear about you and Connor!'

'What?' My head jerks up in shock and I see a girl called Nancy coming towards me.

'It was such a bolt from the blue! Of all the couples to split up, I would never have said you two. But it just shows, you never can tell ...'

I stare at her dazedly.

'How ... how do you know?'

'Oh, everyone knows!' says Nancy. 'You know there was a little drinks do on Friday night? Well, Connor came to it, and he got quite drunk. And he told everyone. In fact, he made a little speech!'

'He ... he did what?'

'It was quite touching, really. It was all about how the Panther Corporation felt like his family, and how he knew we would all support him through this difficult time. And you, of course,' she adds as an afterthought. 'Although since you were the one who broke it off, Connor's really the wounded party.' She leans forward confidentially. 'I have to say, a lot of the girls were saying you must have a screw loose!'

I cannot believe this. Connor gave a speech about our break-up. After promising to keep it quiet. And now everyone's on his side.

'Right,' I say at last. 'Well, I'd better get on-'

'It just seems such a shame.' Nancy eyes me inquisitively. 'You two seemed so perfect!'

'I know we did.' I force a smile. 'Anyway. See you later.'

I head for the new coffee machine and am staring into s.p.a.ce, trying to get my head round this, when a tremulous voice interrupts me.

'Emma?' I look up and my heart sinks. It's Katie, staring at me as though I've grown three heads.

'Oh hi!' I say, trying to sound breezy.

'Is it true?' she whispers. 'Is it true? Because I won't believe it's true until I hear you say it with your own lips.'

'Yes,' I say reluctantly. 'It's true. Connor and I have broken up.'

'Oh G.o.d.' Katie's breathing becomes quicker and quicker. 'Oh my G.o.d. It's true. Oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d, I really can't cope with this ...'

s.h.i.t. She's hyperventilating. I grab an empty sugar bag and shove it over her mouth.

'Katie, calm down!' I say helplessly. 'Breathe in ... and out ...'

'I've been having panic attacks all weekend,' she manages, between breaths. 'I woke up last night in a cold sweat and I just thought to myself, if this is true, the world doesn't make sense any more. It simply makes no sense.'

'Katie, we broke up! That's all. People break up all the time.'

'But you and Connor weren't just people! You were the couple. I mean, if you can't make it, why should any of the rest of us bother even trying?'

'Katie, we weren't the couple!' I say, trying to keep my temper. 'We were a couple. And it went wrong, and ... and these things happen.'

'But-'

'And to be honest, I'd rather not talk about it.'