‘This is a very bad idea,’ I said to Phil as we went up the stairs to the theatre.
‘Oh, get over yourself,’ he said, giving me a delicate nudge. ‘You can’t shut yourself away for ever.’
‘It’s hardly for ever,’ I said. ‘It’s only been a week.’
‘One week and two days,’ Phil said. ‘And one royal pregnancy announcement, one pop star falling off the stage at an awards ceremony, and one fabulous dress worn by Beyoncé. The gossip mags have moved on. Everyone’s moved on. It’s time you did, too.’
‘I’m moving on,’ I said, sulkily. ‘But unfortunately, I’m moving on to a bloody dance show when I’ve got two left feet and I’m going to be a laughing stock.’
‘You’re not that bad. I’ve seen you throwing some magnificent shapes on the dance floor after a few drinks.’
‘Yes, but I can’t get hammered before every rehearsal, can I?’ I said, wondering if, in fact, I could.
‘Relax,’ Phil said, taking my hand. ‘You’ll love this show and I guarantee it’ll give you the dancing bug.’
We were at a West End theatre to watch the opening night of a revival of a classic Broadway musical. Phil had promised me old-school Hollywood glamour and lots of dancing to get me in the mood. I wasn’t convinced, but he was right that I needed a night out. A week rattling round in my empty flat had made me stir crazy.
‘You look fabulous, by the way,’ Phil said as we found our seats.
I bobbed a curtsey to him.
‘Well, thank you, sir,’ I said. ‘I had to go shopping because sodding Matty virtually gave away all my clothes and this dress just fell into my basket.’
Phil raised an eyebrow.
‘Sure it did,’ he said, looking at the Gatsby-style beaded shift dress appraisingly. ‘Don’t forget you’re not earning at the moment.’
‘Shh,’ I said, not wanting to hear his words of wisdom right at that second. ‘It’s starting.’
Phil was right. It was a gorgeous, gorgeous show and it did make me want to get up and dance. Though I wasn’t sure I could pull it off with quite as much style as the leading lady. It was glitzy and sparkly and wonderful and as the curtain went down I clapped until my hands stung.
‘Sooooo,’ Phil said, hopefully. ‘Did you love it?’
I nodded.
‘Yes, I loved it.’
‘And is Phil always right?’
I made a face.
‘About this,’ I admitted. ‘But I wouldn’t say always.’
‘What about this?’ Phil said. He produced two tickets to the opening night party and I groaned.
‘A party?’ I said. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ he said, grabbing my hand. ‘It’s fine. You need to get back out there and this is a good place to start. It’s going to be quiet, classy, and there’s absolutely no chance Matty will be there.’
‘Okay,’ I said, letting him lead me up the stairs to the bar at the very top of the theatre where the party was. ‘Let’s go and party.’
Phil was right. It was indeed a quiet party. But it was kind of nice, and knowing it was Matty’s idea of a nightmare made it easier for me to relax. There was a barbershop quartet in the corner, singing songs from musicals, and groups of people stood together chatting and drinking glasses of champagne.
‘It’s very sophisticated,’ I said to Phil. ‘Not sure I belong here.’ Phil took two glasses from a passing waiter and stuck his tongue out at me.
‘Of course you do,’ he said. ‘We both do.’
I shook my head at the glass he offered and swapped it for an orange juice when the waiter passed us again.
‘I’m off booze,’ I said. ‘It just gets me into trouble.’
We stayed for a while, chatting about mutual friends and eating as many canapés as we could get our hands on. But it wasn’t the most exciting party in the world and, eventually, Phil looked at his phone.
‘Do you mind if we call it a night?’ he said. ‘Bertie’s round the corner with his parents and I said I’d go and meet them. Do you want to come?’
I shuddered.
‘God no,’ I said. ‘I’ll head home.’
‘Do you want me to find you a cab?’ Phil said.
‘Nah,’ I said, picking up my bag. ‘I’ll pop to the loo first and then head out. Call me tomorrow?’
Phil gave me a quick squeeze.
‘Will do,’ he said. ‘Stay safe.’
I blew him a kiss as he headed for the stairs, then I went to find the loo.
I was still in the cubicle when I heard two women come in, chatting in that slightly too loud way that told me they’d had rather a lot of champagne.
‘I just hope this is it,’ one was saying. ‘I’ve fucking had enough of being in the chorus line. If this isn’t my big break, then I don’t know what else I can do.’
‘You could get your boobs done,’ the other one said. ‘Everyone does it.’
‘How would that help?’
‘Dunno,’ the second one said, giggling. ‘I have no idea.’
I went to flush the toilet, then stopped as I heard them say my name.
‘… like Amy Lavender,’ the first one said. ‘She was here earlier, did you see her?’
Great. I couldn’t burst out of the cubicle now, could I? Surprise! Quietly I put the seat down and sat on it.
‘Do you know what I heard about Amy Lavender?’ the other one said, lowering her voice to a quiet shriek.
Oh, this would be good.
‘Her name’s not even Amy Lavender. It’s Amy Brown.’
‘Nooooo,’ said the first one.
Sitting on the loo, I rolled my eyes. That was hardly a state secret. My real name was, in fact, Amy Lavender Brown, so I’d simply dropped the boring Brown when I started acting. It had been my mum’s idea, actually – in fact, it was the reason behind my unusual middle name. She’d hoped I’d be a star one day, even before I could talk. Pressure, much?
‘I feel a bit sorry for her, you know?’ one girl said. ‘Everyone knew her fella was cheating on her, for months and months before she found out.’
Oh, really? I thought. People were always so wise after the event.
‘True,’ the other one said. ‘He slept with Casey. And he was all over Felicity at that album party.’
My mind raced. What album party? Not the one Matty went to when I’d been doing that week of night shoots? Surely not …
‘He tried it on with me once,’ the first one said. ‘He was quite persistent. I had to get Greg to have a word with him in the end.’
‘What a sleaze,’ said the other girl. Then she giggled. ‘You had a lucky escape, though. That Amy Lavender could have whacked you instead.’
Laughing, they both left the toilets and I heard the double doors back into the bar bang shut.