‘Daniel, this is a good show. You know how long I’ve been out of the game. This is a great opportunity for me.’
‘A great opportunity for people to look at you in a certain way,’ said Daniel more sharply.
He rubbed his temples as if he had a headache.
‘Look, ever since we’ve been together and I tell people what you do, I’ve got friends, family all wanting to come and see you in a production. But I’m not sure I fancy them watching you all dressed up in fishnets and some tarty leotard cut up to the wazoo, as much as I’d privately like to see you in full costume.’
‘Tarty?’ she said incredulously, suddenly imagining herself in black hose and lashings of red lipstick. It was a good job Daniel had never seen her in the K Double Swagg video.
‘You know what I mean.’
He offered a placatory hand, but Amy felt stung.
‘Well, it’s a good job you’re going to be in Washington then, where you don’t have to see me looking tarty.’
‘About that . . .’
She heard something in his voice. Apology, awkwardness, and something he’d said just moments earlier began to resonate.
‘You didn’t want to spoil Christmas,’ she said softly, remembering why he hadn’t wanted to tell her about his promotion. ‘How long is the posting for, Daniel?’
‘Eighteen months.’
It was shorter than she’d thought – many diplomatic gigs were for two or three years or more.
‘Well, that’s not so bad,’ she said, trying to calm herself. ‘In fact it could be good: I could move back to New York, get something on Broadway, and it’s just a short hop on the shuttle to Washington. I was so worried it was going to be somewhere like Africa or South East Asia, but at least I’ve got the right passport, huh?’
She gave a wea
k smile, willing him to speak, desperate to hear him insist that he couldn’t possibly be away from her for so long, how they should get a little flat together on Capitol Hill, just the two of them, how he wouldn’t even consider taking the stupid job unless she came with him. There were dance companies in Washington, weren’t there? But he didn’t say any of that. He just took a step away from her, looking uncomfortable.
‘Listen, I don’t want you to uproot yourself because of me. Not when you’ve got this brilliant opportunity here.’
She looked at him, her eyes meeting his intense blue ones.
‘So now it’s a brilliant opportunity . . .’
‘I have never led you on, never made any promises,’ he said quietly. ‘You know this is my job, that I was always going to get posted overseas.’
‘But there’s no need to write our relationship off the second a plane ticket arrives in your in-tray.’
She waited for him to say something.
‘Come on, we don’t want it to end like this,’ he said finally.
‘The end . . .’ she whispered, realising what was unfolding in front of her. She thought about the Tiffany gift box in his drawer, remembering that she had come here hoping, believing, he might actually propose. She laughed out loud at her own stupidity.
‘I should leave,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster.
‘Amy, stop. Let’s discuss this . . .’
‘Leave me alone,’ she roared, shrugging him violently away from her.
She began to run, the heels of her shoes wobbling as they hit the carpet.
Outside, she inhaled the cold night air and closed her eyes, glad to be out of there, glad, for once, to be alone.
Hot tears prickled in the cavity behind her eyes but she blinked them away as fiercely as she could.