any more,’ I say. ‘And do you know what it’s called, when you do that? It’s called gaslighting. It’s a form of abuse. Telling me things aren’t the way I can see them.’
This knocks him. I’m not sure Rachel or Mo will notice it, but I watch him take the hit. The Tiffy he is familiar with would never have used words like ‘gaslighting’ and ‘abuse’. Seeing him waver sends a rush of fearful excitement through me, like the feeling when you stand close to the edge as the train rushes by.
‘You did say yes,’ he says. The light from the stage creeps between the curtains behind us, leaving a long stripe of yellow across the shadowy lines of Justin’s face. ‘I heard you! And . . . you do want to marry me, don’t you, Tiffy? We belong together.’
He tries to reach for my hand. The whole thing is so obviously a performance. I pull back and, quick as a flash, Rachel reaches out and slaps his outstretched hand away from me.
He doesn’t physically react. When he speaks, his voice is light and wounded. ‘What was that for?’
‘You don’t touch her,’ Rachel spits at him.
‘I think you should leave, Justin,’ Mo says.
‘What is this all about, Tiffy?’ Justin asks me, voice still gentle. ‘Are your friends upset with me because we were broken up?’ He keeps trying to move closer, just in inches, but Rachel has hold of me tight, and, with Mo at my other shoulder, we’re a unit.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I say suddenly.
‘Of course,’ Justin says.
The sound guy in black glances at us in irritation. ‘You’re not meant to stay back here,’ he tells us, as the crowd outside bursts into noisy applause.
I ignore him, my eyes on Justin. ‘How did you know I’d be here today?’
‘What do you mean? This event was advertised all over the place, Tiffy. I could hardly use the Internet and miss it.’
‘But how did you know I would be here? How did you even know I was working on this book?’
I know I’m right. I can see it in the shiftiness in his eyes. He eases a finger under his collar.
‘And how did you know I would be at that book launch in Shoreditch? And how did you know I’d be on that cruise ship?’
He’s unsettled; he scoffs, giving me the first unpleasant, disparaging look of the evening. That’s more like it – that’s the Justin I’ve begun to remember.
For a moment he’s caught in indecision, and then he opts for an easy smile. ‘Your mate Martin has been giving me tip-offs,’ he says sheepishly, like a naughty boy caught pinching things. Sweet, mischievous, harmless. ‘He knew how much I care about you, so he’s been helping to get us back together.’
‘You’re joking,’ Rachel blurts. I glance at her; her eyes are flashing and she looks more terrifying than I have ever seen her looking before, which is really saying something.
‘How do you even know Martin?’ I ask in disbelief.
‘Quiet!’ the sound guy hisses. We all ignore him.
‘We met at your work night out, remember?’ Justin says. ‘Is this important? Can’t we go somewhere quieter, just the two of us, Tiffy?’
I don’t remember the work night out. I missed most of them because Justin never liked going, and didn’t like me going to them without him.
‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you, Justin,’ I say, taking a deep, shaky breath. ‘And I don’t want to marry you. I want you to leave me alone.’
I have imagined saying this lots and lots of times. I always thought he’d look wounded, perhaps step back in shock, or raise a hand to his mouth. I imagined him crying and trying to pull me closer; I’d even been afraid he might try to get hold of me physically, and not let go.
But he just looks perplexed. Irritated. Maybe a little pissed off, as if he’s been terribly misled somehow, and it’s all been rather unfair.
‘You don’t mean that,’ he begins.
‘Oh, she does,’ says Mo. His voice is pleasant, but very firm.
‘She really, really does,’ Rachel adds.
‘No,’ Justin says, shaking his head. ‘You’re not giving us a chance.’
‘A chance?’ I almost laugh. ‘I went back to you over and over. You’ve had more chances than I can count. I don’t want to see you. Ever again.’
He frowns. ‘You said in that bar in Shoreditch that we could talk in a couple of months. I stuck to your rules,’ he says, stretching his arms