As she returned to what he was saying - "...and so it got rescheduled for today, I would have called but your mobile was off. I'm so sorry, please don't look at me that way, we can see each other tomorrow at the Gaza Hotel?"
"Got the room booked already have you?" snapped Cara, turning away and making for the lake, expecting him to follow. When there were no hurried footsteps she turned round, in time to see him glance at his friends, both shrugging his shoulders and smiling as if to say "She's fiesty, isn't she?"
As though God had given her glasses which could penetrate people's thoughts, she saw the whole thing: she was one of many, a girl picked up from the theatre to be slept with, rejected and reported on to his friends. With all the dignity she could muster she turned around and continued towards to park exit...
She heard John cry "What's wrong? Isn't the Gaza swanky enough? Or shall we go to the theatre again?", accompanied by a laugh which was even nastier than its owner. But now Cara had reached the gate and was nearly at her Citroen C3, her ticket back home to safety. Only when she was safely on the drive back home did she look in the mirror. She saw a face with red blotches around the eyes... tear marks? She had not even realised she was crying on the drive back home - whether they were tears of fury or sadness she didn't know.
In her Chloé bag her mobile began to vibrate - the caller ID told her who it was. With a slight sniff and a small smile, she cut off the call and deleted the number.