Page 99 of Break the Ice

‘You should have been here before when they were setting up. They’d hired some penguins to walk around, but some lady said they smelt too much of fish so she sent them back.’

I laugh. ‘They sent back penguins? Actual penguins? Not robot penguins or people dressed up as penguins?’

‘Swear on my life, real penguins. Cute little dudes, a shame they couldn’t stay.’ He comes over and puts a lollipop in my breast pocket. ‘This is for you, kiddo. Happy New Year,’ he says.

I smile. ‘Thank you very much,’ I say, putting a fifty-dollar bill in his tip jar.

He beams it. ‘Ooh-wee, sir. Thank you kindly. Nice to see there’s some fat cats out there with manners.’

‘You are welcome. Happy New Year when it arrives.’

He salutes me as I walk out of the bathroom and into the corridor that leads back out to the ballroom. Drinks. Phoebe wants gin. Gin is a good idea. I hope she found that shrimp.

‘Joshua.’

It can be a terrible thing when you recognise someone’s voice. Not just that, you recognise the sound of their footsteps, how they walk. I suddenly feel very alone, very aware I have no protection from what’s about to happen. I wonder if now’s the time to run into the bathroom and back to Gregory. I could eat this lollipop in a stall and cover my ears. Instead, I turn, to see her standing there. Avery. Is it bad that I could predict what she would be wearing? It’s always figure-hugging, designer, plunging in some way. Her red hair hangs to her shoulders, and she’s wearing earrings that are likely very real diamonds. I exhale heavily. Last time I saw her, she was telling me she didn’t want to marry me.

‘Hey, Avery.’

She scans me from my hair down to my shoes. ‘You came, you’re here?’ she says, coming in to hug me awkwardly. I hate how I remember that hug too, it’s like muscle memory. She releases me, then steps back. ‘Sharp suit, by the way. I like it.’

‘It’s new.’

‘That’s great. You look great.’

I can’t find it in me to return the compliment. She was always beautiful, in a very polished way. I always liked it when she didn’t straighten her hair. I always told her she didn’t need to but she never listened to me. I don’t think I look any different to how I was when we were together. ‘Thank you.’

‘How are you?’ she asks me.

I don’t know how to answer that either. I’m here. In front of you. It feels like revisiting a playground from when I was little. The one where I fell off the monkey bars and got a nosebleed. ‘I’m good. I had a snow cone before. That was an inspired touch.’

‘Which one?’

‘The margarita one.’

‘They’re really good.’

She furrows her brow as she studies my face, like she’s disappointed at my reaction to seeing her. Should I be more animated? Physical? Should I be dropping to my knees in tears remembering how much I once loved her? Instead, though, I feel numb.

‘I don’t know what to say, Josh. I really don’t,’ she says, emotion in her voice. Oh, she wants me to feel sorry for her. That’s funny.

‘I think you’ve covered most of what needs to be said. I’m good, you’re good. I’m at your party. Have a nice life?’ I surprise myself with how dry that came across.

‘I know you’ve been seeing my messages. Why don’t you ever reply?’

I pause. ‘Because it’s confusing,’ I tell her.

‘I’m just being civil. Reaching out,’ she says.

‘You wanted a clean break,’ I say plainly.

‘Yeah, I just didn’t think you were going to run off to London. You didn’t even tell me. I had to hear that through the grapevine,’ she says, seemingly annoyed with me.

‘Am I still supposed to drop you my location?’ I say. We used to do that all the time, not to keep tabs but just to be sure the other was all right.

‘Well, we were friends before anything. And I worried about my friend,’ she says. I take in her words, trying not to get dragged in to them. I left because of you, you know that, right? ‘Here, sit with me for a while. My feet are killing me,’ she says, and leads us to an alcove in the wall with a red velvet bench seat. She sits, crossing her legs, her thigh exposed through the slit of her dress.

I don’t know why but I do what I’m told, keeping my distance. Does this situation need a debrief? I can’t think what’s left to say. ‘Who’s that girl you came with?’ she asks.