'Look,' I say helplessly. 'I'm not who you think I am-'

'I can see that! I would never have thought you had this in you.' The woman squeezes my arm. 'Well, good for you. Have some fun, that's what I say! You took your wedding band off,' she adds, glancing at my left hand. 'Smart girl ... oops! He's coming! I'd better go!'

She lurches away again, as Jack sits back down in his place, and I lean forward, already half giggling. Jack is going to love this.

'Guess what!' I say. 'I have a husband called Jeremy! My friend over there just came over and told me. So what do you reckon? Has Jeremy been having a dalliance too?'

There's silence, and Jack looks up, a strained expression on his face.

'I'm sorry?' he says.

He wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

I can't say the whole thing again. I'll just feel stupid. In fact, I already feel stupid. 'It doesn't matter,' I say, and force a smile.

There's another silence and I cast around for something to say. 'So, um, I have a confession to make,' I say, gesturing to his plate. 'I pinched one of your scallops.'

I wait for him to pretend to be shocked, or angry. Or anything.

'That's OK,' he says abstractedly, and begins to fork the rest of them into his mouth.

I don't understand. What's happened? Where's the banter gone? He's completely changed.

By the time we've finished our tarragon chicken with rocket salad and chips, my entire body is tensed up with misery. This date is a disaster. A complete disaster. I've made every effort possible to chat, and joke and be funny. But Jack's taken two more calls, and the rest of the time he's been broody and distracted, and to be honest I might as well not be there.

I feel like crying with disappointment. I just don't understand it. It was going so well. We were getting on so fantastically. What went wrong?

'I'll just go and freshen up,' I say, as our main-course plates are removed, and Jack simply nods.

The Ladies is more like a palace than a loo, with gold mirrors, plushy chairs and a woman in uniform to give you a towel. For a moment I feel a bit shy about phoning Lissy in front of her, but she must have seen it all before, mustn't she?

'Hi,' I say, as Lissy picks up. 'It's me.'

'Emma! How's it going?'

'It's awful,' I say dolefully.

'What do you mean?' she says in horror. 'How can it be awful? What's happened?'

'That's the worst thing.' I slump into a chair. 'It all started off brilliantly. We were laughing and joking, and the restaurant's amazing, and he'd ordered this special menu just for me, all full of my favourite things ...'

I swallow hard. Now I put it like that, it does all sound pretty perfect.

'It sounds wonderful,' says Lissy in astonishment. 'So how come-'

'So then he had this call on his mobile.' I blow my nose. 'And ever since, he's barely said a word to me. He keeps disappearing off to take calls, and I'm left on my own, and when he comes back the conversation's all strained and stilted, and he's obviously only half paying attention.'

'Maybe he's worried about something, but he doesn't want to burden you with it,' says Lissy after a pause.

'That's true,' I say slowly. 'He does look pretty ha.s.sled.'

'Maybe something awful has happened but he doesn't want to ruin the mood. Just try talking to him. Share his worries!'

'OK,' I say, feeling more cheerful. 'OK, I'll try that. Thanks, Lissy.'

I walk back to the table feeling slightly more positive. A waiter materializes to help me with my chair, and as I sit down, I give Jack the warmest, most sympathetic look I can muster. 'Jack, is everything OK?'

He frowns.

'Why do you say that?'

'Well, you keep disappearing off. I just wondered if there was anything ... you wanted to talk about.'

'It's fine,' he says curtly. 'Thanks.' His tone is very much 'subject closed' but I'm not going to give up that easily.

'Have you had some bad news?'

'No.'

'Is it ... a business thing?' I persist. 'Or ... or is it some kind of personal ...'

Jack looks up, a sudden flash of anger in his face.

'I said, it's nothing. Quit it.'

Great. That puts me in my place, doesn't it?

'Would you both care for dessert?' A waiter's voice interrupts me, and I give him a strained smile.

'Actually, I don't think so.'

I've had enough of this evening. I just want to get it over and go home.

'Very well.' The waiter smiles at me. 'Any coffee?'

'She does want dessert,' says Jack, over my head.

What? What did he just say? The waiter looks at me hesitantly.

'No I don't!' I say firmly.

'Come on, Emma,' says Jack, and now his warm, teasing tone is back. 'You don't have to pretend with me. You told me on the plane, this is what you always say. You say you don't want a dessert, when really, you do.'

'Well, this time, I really don't.'

'It's specially created for you.' Jack leans forward. 'Haagen-Dazs, meringue, Bailey's sauce on the side ...'

Suddenly I feel completely patronized. How does he know what I want? Maybe I just want fruit. Maybe I want nothing. He has no idea about me. None at all.

'I'm not hungry.' I push my chair back.

'Emma, I know you. You want it, really-'

'You don't know me!' I cry angrily, before I can stop myself. 'Jack, you may know a few random facts about me. But that doesn't mean you know me!'

'What?' Jack stares at me.

'If you knew me,' I say in a trembling voice, 'you would have realized that when I go out to dinner with someone, I like them to listen to what I'm saying. I like them to treat me with a bit of respect, and not tell me to "quit it" when all I'm doing is trying to make conversation ...'

Jack is staring at me in astonishment.

'Emma, are you OK?'

'No. I'm not OK! You've practically ignored me all evening.'

'That's not fair.'

'You have! You've been on autopilot. Ever since your mobile phone started going ...'

'Look.' Jack rubs his face. 'A few things are going on in my life at the moment, they're very important-'

'Fine. Well, let them go on without me.'

Tears are stinging my eyes as I stand up and reach for my bag. I so wanted this to be a perfect evening. I had such high hopes. I can't believe it's gone so wrong.

'That's right! You tell him!' the woman in gold supportively calls from across the room. 'You know, this girl's got a lovely husband of her own,' she exclaims to Jack. 'She doesn't need you!'

'Thank you for dinner,' I say, staring fixedly at the tablecloth, as one of the waiters magically appears at my side with my coat.

'Emma,' says Jack, getting to his feet in disbelief. 'You're not seriously going.'

'l am.'

'Give it another chance. Please. Stay and have some coffee. I promise I'll talk-'

'I don't want any coffee,' I say, as the waiter helps me on with my coat.

'Mint tea, then. Chocolates! I ordered you a box of G.o.diva truffles ...' His tone is entreating, and just for an instant I waver. I love G.o.diva truffles.

But no, I've made up my mind.

'I don't care,' I gulp. 'I'm going. Thank you very much,' I add to the waiter. 'How did you know I wanted my coat?'

'We make it our business to know,' says the waiter discreetly.

'You see?' I say to Jack. 'They know me.'

There's an instant in which we stare at each other.

'Fine,' says Jack at last, and gives a resigned shrug. 'Fine. Daniel will take you home. He should be waiting outside in the car.'

'I'm not going home in your car!' I say in horror. 'I'll make my own way, thanks.'

'Emma. Don't be stupid.'

'Goodbye. And thanks very much,' I add to the waiter. 'You were all very attentive and nice to me.'

I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it's started to rain. And I don't have an umbrella.

Well, I don't care. I'm going anyway. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on the wet pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where I am. I don't even know where the nearest tube is, or where ...

Hang on. There's a bus stop. I look down the numbers and see one that goes to Islington.

Well, fine. I'll take the bus home. And then I'll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. And maybe some icecream in front of the telly.

It's one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking G.o.d my hair won't get any wetter. I'm just staring blankly at a car advertis.e.m.e.nt, wondering what that Haagen-Dazs pudding tasted like and whether the meringue was the stiff white kind or that gorgeous chewy, caramel kind, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.

I don't believe it.

'Please,' says Jack, getting out. 'Let me take you home.'

'No,' I say, without turning my head.

'You can't stay here in the rain.'

'Yes I can. Some of us live in the real world, you know.'

I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster about AIDS. The next moment Jack has arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine and for a while we're both silent.

'I know I was terrible company this evening,' he says eventually. 'And I'm sorry. I'm also sorry I can't tell you anything about it. But my life is ... complicated. And some bits of it are very delicate. Do you understand?'

No, I want to say. No, I don't understand, when I've told you every single little thing about me.

'I suppose,' I say, with a tiny shrug.

The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creeping into my Jemima's silver sandals. G.o.d, I hope it won't stain them.

'I'm sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,' says Jack, lifting his voice above the noise.

'It wasn't,' I say, suddenly feeling bad. 'I just ... I had such high hopes! I wanted to get to know you a bit, and I wanted to have fun ... and for us to laugh ... and I wanted one of those pink c.o.c.ktails, not champagne ...'

s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t. That slipped out before I could stop it.

'But ... you like champagne!' says Jack, looking stunned. 'You told me. Your perfect date would start off with champagne.'

I can't quite meet his eye.