her boyfriend snaked a lascivious arm around her, I fled to join Bel on the dance floor.
She was extremely drunk. After some rather terrifying disco-squats she ricocheted round the dancers surrounding her, finally cannoning into me so that I fell against a group standing on the edge of the dance floor. An arm shot out to steady me.
‘Sorry.’ I staggered in the heels I wasn’t used to, my bad foot sore again where I’d awkwardly righted myself. ‘Ouch.’
‘Do you want to sit down for a second?’ The dark-haired man who’d just caught me led me to a seat tucked in the corner, where I plonked myself down inelegantly and slid my shoe off. ‘Oh God, that hurts.’ I rubbed my toes. ‘Thanks for saving me.’
‘No problem.’ He offered me a hand. ‘Sebastian Rae. Seb.’
‘Maggie. Maggie Warren.’ And then I looked up at him directly as I took the proffered hand, and for the first time since Alex, the first time in such a very long time, I felt a surge of something, something like life, and it almost winded me. I looked up at this man again, and afterwards I had the horrible feeling I might have been mouthing stupidly, sort of fish-like, saying nothing.
He was studying me intently, his dark eyes inscrutable. So intently. I looked away again very quickly and prayed I hadn’t just blushed like a schoolgirl.
‘You all right now, then, Maggie Warren?’
‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’ He was going to walk away. Please don’t walk away. But he moved off – and then he turned and looked at me again.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
Oh God, absolutely. ‘Oh, thanks – if you’re sure,’ I mumbled.
I liked his suit. It would have looked rather odd and out of place on anyone else amid this mayhem, but something about his leanness, about his stance, meant he pulled it off. I’d quite like to pull it off, I decided. I looked at my feet, and back up again. He was still waiting.
‘What’ll it be then?’
‘Oh, sorry! I’ll have a – a glass of red wine please.’
By the time Seb had battled to the bar and back I’d had time to come to my senses. I definitely wasn’t ready for this again. And he – well, he wasn’t Alex. He sat beside me, his dark hair tousled, his shirt very white, and I stared at the razor-sharp creases in his grey trousers and tried desperately to think of something interesting to say.
‘What do you do?’ I’d failed. The flashing lights and the banging music were beginning to confuse me; I breathed deep and tried not to succumb to his crooked smile. Trust in myself and any ability I had to choose a man well – a good man – was long gone. My heart was still lumpen in my chest, still jagged and torn. I couldn’t imagine a time when it would be whole again.
‘I’m an actor, actually.’ He raised his glass to me. I had the uncomfortable feeling he was sizing me up.
‘How exciting.’ Did I sound star-struck? I’d met so many celebrities in my job, but he seemed a little different; somehow aloof from it all. ‘I thought you looked a bit familiar.’
He had a very small scar running vertically above his upper lip, the skin there paler than the rest. I sat firmly on my hands, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch it. ‘Have you been in anything I’d have seen?’
‘Oh, you know. EastEnders, The Bill . The usual crap.’ He smiled, and I smiled back. I liked the way the corner of his mouth twisted as he grinned. I liked the fact he had a sense of humour about himself, which most actors I’d met lacked, and most of all I likedhis dark eyes, eyes that were almost black in this dim light. Like melting tar on summer roads. I looked away.
‘I’m about to do some Shakespeare actually.’
‘Oh really? Personally I never really got to grips with the great Bard. Too much flouncy language, not enough sex.’ Where had that come from? I winced at myself. Quit while you’re ahead, Maggie , a little voice muttered.
‘No, well, he’s not everybody’s cup of tea. But,
She was extremely drunk. After some rather terrifying disco-squats she ricocheted round the dancers surrounding her, finally cannoning into me so that I fell against a group standing on the edge of the dance floor. An arm shot out to steady me.
‘Sorry.’ I staggered in the heels I wasn’t used to, my bad foot sore again where I’d awkwardly righted myself. ‘Ouch.’
‘Do you want to sit down for a second?’ The dark-haired man who’d just caught me led me to a seat tucked in the corner, where I plonked myself down inelegantly and slid my shoe off. ‘Oh God, that hurts.’ I rubbed my toes. ‘Thanks for saving me.’
‘No problem.’ He offered me a hand. ‘Sebastian Rae. Seb.’
‘Maggie. Maggie Warren.’ And then I looked up at him directly as I took the proffered hand, and for the first time since Alex, the first time in such a very long time, I felt a surge of something, something like life, and it almost winded me. I looked up at this man again, and afterwards I had the horrible feeling I might have been mouthing stupidly, sort of fish-like, saying nothing.
He was studying me intently, his dark eyes inscrutable. So intently. I looked away again very quickly and prayed I hadn’t just blushed like a schoolgirl.
‘You all right now, then, Maggie Warren?’
‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’ He was going to walk away. Please don’t walk away. But he moved off – and then he turned and looked at me again.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
Oh God, absolutely. ‘Oh, thanks – if you’re sure,’ I mumbled.
I liked his suit. It would have looked rather odd and out of place on anyone else amid this mayhem, but something about his leanness, about his stance, meant he pulled it off. I’d quite like to pull it off, I decided. I looked at my feet, and back up again. He was still waiting.
‘What’ll it be then?’
‘Oh, sorry! I’ll have a – a glass of red wine please.’
By the time Seb had battled to the bar and back I’d had time to come to my senses. I definitely wasn’t ready for this again. And he – well, he wasn’t Alex. He sat beside me, his dark hair tousled, his shirt very white, and I stared at the razor-sharp creases in his grey trousers and tried desperately to think of something interesting to say.
‘What do you do?’ I’d failed. The flashing lights and the banging music were beginning to confuse me; I breathed deep and tried not to succumb to his crooked smile. Trust in myself and any ability I had to choose a man well – a good man – was long gone. My heart was still lumpen in my chest, still jagged and torn. I couldn’t imagine a time when it would be whole again.
‘I’m an actor, actually.’ He raised his glass to me. I had the uncomfortable feeling he was sizing me up.
‘How exciting.’ Did I sound star-struck? I’d met so many celebrities in my job, but he seemed a little different; somehow aloof from it all. ‘I thought you looked a bit familiar.’
He had a very small scar running vertically above his upper lip, the skin there paler than the rest. I sat firmly on my hands, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch it. ‘Have you been in anything I’d have seen?’
‘Oh, you know. EastEnders, The Bill . The usual crap.’ He smiled, and I smiled back. I liked the way the corner of his mouth twisted as he grinned. I liked the fact he had a sense of humour about himself, which most actors I’d met lacked, and most of all I likedhis dark eyes, eyes that were almost black in this dim light. Like melting tar on summer roads. I looked away.
‘I’m about to do some Shakespeare actually.’
‘Oh really? Personally I never really got to grips with the great Bard. Too much flouncy language, not enough sex.’ Where had that come from? I winced at myself. Quit while you’re ahead, Maggie , a little voice muttered.
‘No, well, he’s not everybody’s cup of tea. But,
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