Save the Last Dance. Fiona Harper

thing. He must be having a weird in-flight dream and Schiphol airport must still be hours away.

       ‘Who?’ he said, and his voice sounded hard and flat. He couldn’t look at her.

       He heard her fidget in her seat. ‘His name is Matthew, and he’s an architect. I met him at a charity do a few months ago, and then I bumped into him a few times after that. And, well, one thing led to another…’

       How he hated that phrase. It implied that something couldn’t be helped, that the person in question had had no choice and, therefore, bore no responsibility.

       ‘He’s asked me to marry him,’ she said quietly.

       That made him whip his head round. ‘But you’re supposed to be marrying me!’

       ‘I know,’ Nat said, looking at him from under her lashes. ‘I’m sorry.’

       Finn just stared at her. He was feeling so many emotions that he wasn’t even sure which one to pick out of the bag first. How about anger? A good one, that. Much better than disappointment or the sting of rejection. Or the creeping sickness telling him he’d been stupid to let himself get too attached once again.

       ‘Sorry doesn’t cut it, sweetheart! We had a deal, remember? You’ve got a—’

       He’d been about to say ring on your finger to prove it, but a quick glance at her hand left him without ammunition.

       Silently, she reached into her handbag, opened her purse and handed his diamond back to him. He took it between thumb and forefinger and stared at it, felt its weight.

       This was real.

       Nat gave him a weak smile. ‘We weren’t really ever going to get round to it, were we, Finn? It was a nice game, pretending we were ready for a proper relationship when really we hardly spent any time together. We did it because it was easy.’

       It had been easy! What was so wrong with that?

       ‘We worked together, Nat! Wasn’t it nice to know there was always someone to come home to? To have someone who wouldn’t moan about the long hours and weeks spent apart? Someone who knew how to pick up where they left off without a lot of fuss? Is the wonderful Matthew going to put up with all of that?’

       Nat sighed. ‘It did work, Finn. Did being the operative word. “Us” was a habit we’d fallen into, a way of keeping our freedom while telling ourselves we were ready for more.’

       What was she talking about? He’d been ready for more. Hadn’t he? The anger quickly dissolved into confusion.

       He looked at Nat and she looked back at him.

       ‘Now I really am ready for more,’ she said.

       ‘Just not with me,’ he replied, then pressed his lips into a straight line.

       She shook her head. ‘Matthew wants us to move to a nice big house in the country and fill it with kids.’ She smiled to herself. ‘I’m amazed to discover I want that, too. I’m even thinking about giving up Amazing Planet and doing something UK-based.’

      What? Cutesy early-evening nature programmes? Nat hated those!

       ‘But you’ll go mad staying in one place for that long! You always said you didn’t want to be tied down like that. This is a mistake, Nat! You love your job.’

       She looked back at him, unblinking and contrite. ‘I love him more,’ she said simply. ‘I want to be where he is, Finn. I can’t stand being away from him.’

       Finn slumped back into his leather-backed stool. She was crazy, but there was no talking to her. She’d made her choice and, even if she regretted it later, he wasn’t going to stop her. And he certainly wasn’t going to beg. So it was time to cut ties, to let her loose, he supposed.

       They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the crowds bustle past. Families with whining kids and stupid big Spanish hats that no one born there would disgrace themselves by wearing. Elderly couples on city breaks who’d probably seen Amsterdam’s canals from the wrong side of a coach window.

       He turned away, irritated, and found Nat watching him.

       ‘That was us, Finn. We were tourists.’

       Finn glanced at the almost-empty cocktail glass. What exactly was in that concoction? Nat knew he’d never been on a package holiday in his life, knew he’d rather shoot himself first.

       She stood up, looking very serious. ‘I want the real experience now, Finn. I don’t want to just whizz past the landmarks—dating, engagement, wedding—and still not really know what it’s like to live there.’

       That drink had really gone to her head. She wasn’t making any sense at all.

       ‘I hate to ask, but would you do me a favour? Will you keep quiet about this until I get back from Tonga next week? I don’t want media speculation running rife while we’re both out of the country.’

       He nodded. She could have anything she wanted. He didn’t care. He was numb. Just as well, really, because he was in no hurry to find out what a broken heart felt like.

       She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Finn. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

       And then she was gone. Lost amongst the overladen trolleys and duty free bags.

       The bartender plonked his bottle of beer in front of him and Finn took a long, long drink.

       Jilted in the time it took to order a beer. Marvellous.

      ‘I want to see that lift again.’

       Allegra picked herself up off the studio floor and glared at her partner. Damien, The Little Mermaid’s choreographer, continued to stare at them, his patience thinning rapidly.

       So was Allegra’s.

       ‘It would help if you put your hands where they’re supposed to go,’ she muttered darkly to Stephen. He was in a particularly infantile mood this afternoon.

       Stephen helped her up, spun her into his arms and proceeded to take hold of her a good few inches south of where he was supposed to. Allegra clenched her teeth, prised his hand from her left buttock and moved it to her hip.

       ‘You’re no fun any more,’ Stephen moaned, not in the least bit repentant.

       She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek and got into position. ‘You and I have never had that kind of fun, Stephen, and nor are we likely to,’ she said, as she tipped her head to the correct angle.

       Pity, that. Because Stephen was blond and finely sculpted, and just about the only man under fifty she saw on a regular basis who wasn’t gay. But Stephen had the morals of an alley cat, and made the most of being a good-looking straight male in a predominantly female profession. When it came to women, flirting was Stephen’s default position. However, as long as any physical contact between them was strictly professional, Stephen was pretty harmless. Most of the time she ignored it and they got along fine, but this afternoon she really needed to impress Damien and her partner was not making it easy.

       ‘I think there are a few of the corps that you haven’t slept with lurking in the corridors hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Why don’t you see if you can rid them of their girlish illusions once rehearsal’s over and leave me alone?’

       ‘Careful, darling,’ he said as he dipped her backwards and then lifted her into the air. ‘Or soon they’ll be calling you the Little Cactus instead of the Little Mermaid.’

       The rehearsal went fine after that. At least, Allegra had thought it was going fine. She lost herself in the dancing, just as she’d done in the early days, and forgot about everything—the reviews, her father, even the telephone call that had made her heart soar, just for a moment. Instead she concentrated on bones and joints and muscles, on shapes and lines and angles. It was a blessed relief.