“Probably because it’s a stupid question. I’m sorry, I didn’t – “
“Don’t ruin the moment by apologising,” she said, and he had to lean closer to hear her over the music. “It’s kind of refreshing, to be honest. No dancing around the subject – excuse the pun. But we don’t have to do this now, I’m pretty sure it’d spoil the mood. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”
He sat back in the booth and nodded, curious but not willing to push it. If she wasn’t ready to discuss it yet, he could wait. He racked his brains for another topic instead. Something safer, this time.
“Okay. Well, why don’t you tell me about this exhibition of yours?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Dad’s got a couple of newspaper articles on his fridge.”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten about that. He was so great about it, really supportive.”
“It sounds like it’s kind of a big deal, according to the newspaper anyway.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
He watched her carefully from across the table, the chasm between them feeling smaller the more they talked. The music still made conversation challenging and the bar was still crowded, yet it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. She picked up her beer and drank slowly, avoiding eye contact.
“I’m happy for you. You deserve this,” he said.
“You think so?”
“Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like a fraud. I keep thinking I’m going to get found out.”
“What do you mean?”
She wouldn’t answer him – or couldn’t. She picked at the label on the bottle instead, before taking another long drink.
“Do you ever feel like you’re stuck in someone else’s life?” she asked finally, setting the bottle down again and looking over at him. “Like this isn’t where you’re meant to be, or who you’re meant to be… or whatever? Like you got lost somehow and you just ended up here and it doesn’t matter how hard you try to be somewhere else – to be someone else – you can’t seem to escape?”
Her eyes pierced his soul, intent on uncovering his deepest, darkest secrets. He found himself unable to look away.
She shook her head then, smiling thinly. “Never mind. I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Just ignore me.”
He debated whether or not to answer her or let it lie. He decided on the former. “No, I get it. I feel that way too sometimes.”
“You do? What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d be able to enlighten me.”
She smiled. “You’re asking me for insight?”
“You’re the artist – I thought it might be a question of perspective or something.”
“Sounds like a cop-out to me,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Anyway, something tells me I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Speaking of which,” he indicated her bottle. “Drink up. You’re lagging.”
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she grinned. “But the joke’s gonna be on you when you have to carry me out of here.”
He winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
Her grin widened as she shook her head, scanning the room. “I’d forgotten how busy it gets in here on Fridays.”
“I was meaning to ask you about that. No more Friday night debriefs?”
“We haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Really?”
The Friday night debrief was a long-standing ritual. They would all meet here after work on Friday and generally stayed until closing. It was a gateway into the weekend – say goodbye to the pain of the working week and usher in the weekend with a lot of laughs and a few beers.
“I think that was my fault,” Ally said, the smile gone now. “I told them they could come without me, I didn’t need to be there, and I didn’t mind. But they wouldn’t.”
“Because of how busy it is here?” he asked, reading between the lines.
She shrugged, as if it was a foregone conclusion.
“Couldn’t you all have gone somewhere else instead?”
“Why? Because of me?” she frowned. “Why should they? It wasn’t their problem, it was mine.”
“Something tells me they wouldn’t have seen it that way.”
She shrugged again. The bar was getting noisier. Jack watched as a large group burst through the main door. He glanced over at Harry, who was also watching them, his expression dark. The group elbowed their way to the bar, amid protests from other patrons who were unimpressed with their behaviour. It was apparent they had had a copious amount of alcohol already and were well on their way to being completely smashed.
“Shit,” Ally mumbled.
“What?”
Her attention was fixed on the group and the colour drained from her face.
“What is it?”
“I think we should probably go.”
“What? Why, what’s the matter?”