‘You came down,’ he said, wonderingly, as we leave the bar, still not touching. ‘I thought I’d be there until morning.’
‘Did you?’
‘You’re pissed off with me, aren’t you?’
We nod our goodnights to the receptionist and pass out of the sterile lobby and into the city, its night beat pulsating faintly under the never-quite-darkness. Sirens, street lamps, dreams, nightmares tangle together with the stars.
‘Pissed off?’ I stop at the foot of the steps.
‘You think I went too far,’ he says.
‘You risked everything. You risked me.’
‘But do you understand why?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I do.’
‘So?’
‘So. I think I’m going to take these shoes off.’
I slip my feet out of the tyrannous towers of heel and carry them instead, swinging the slingbacks from my finger. I set off along the pavement, which is cold but less dirty than those in the cheaper parts of town, at least. I wouldn’t be walking barefoot outside that peep show, that’s for sure.
We cross the road and walk along the perimeter of the park. Some paving slabs are canvases for chalk masterpieces, living to delight another day as long as it doesn’t rain. I spot a near-perfect rendition of Toulouse-Lautrec’s The Kiss, glowing red under the lamplight.
‘It seems such a shame it has to fade,’ I say, stopping to gaze down at it.
At last he touches me, the palm of his hand on my elbow. ‘Sophie,’ he says. It sounds urgent. ‘Please talk to me.’
‘I am talking to you.’
‘No, come on.’
‘Let’s go into the park.’
‘It’s closed.’
‘I know a way in. There’s a broken railing. Come on.’
I lead him about a quarter of a mile up the street, then duck in through a warped rail, dragging myself through the hedge to the other side.
I start to run, ecstatically barefoot, through the wet grass, past the twisted dark shapes of the trees, towar
ds the lake. I feel as if I might start to lift off the ground, bumping along and then rising into the air like a kite. I’ve never been more free.
At the lake’s edge, I turn and watch Lloyd catch up with me.
He bends slightly, puts his hands on his thighs, waiting for his breath to settle.
‘Sophie, please tell me you’re OK.’
‘I’m OK. Really, more than OK. Much more than OK.’ I laugh and twirl around, dipping my toe into the silted waters.
‘You sound a bit manic.’
‘I’m not manic. I’m free. Something’s shifted up here.’ I tap my head. ‘It’s like I know what I’m doing.’
‘I wish I did.’