'What?' I look up, wiping my eyes.

'Take it out in your kick-boxing. Use the aggression. Use the hurt.'

I stare at him in disbelief. Was he not listening?

'Aidan, I don't do kick-boxing!' I hear myself crying shrilly. 'I don't kick-box, OK? I never have!'

'You don't?' He looks confused. 'But you said—'

'I was lying!'

There's a short pause.

'Right,' says Aidan at last. 'Well … no worries! You could go for something with lower impact. T'ai Chi, maybe …' He gazes at me uncertainly. 'Listen, do you want a drink? Something to calm you down? I could make you a mango-banana blend with camomile flowers, throw in some soothing nutmeg.'

'No thanks.' I blow my nose, take a deep breath, then reach for my bag. 'I think I'll go home, actually.'

'Will you be OK?'

'I'll be fine.' I force a smile. 'I'm fine.'

But of course that's a lie too. I'm not fine at all. As I sit on the tube going home, tears pour down my face, one by one, landing in big wet drips on my skirt. People are staring at me, but I don't care. Why should I care? I've already suffered the worst embarrassment possible; a few extra people gawping is neither here nor there.

I feel so stupid. So stupid.

Of course we weren't soulmates. Of course he wasn't genuinely interested in me. Of course he never loved me.

A fresh pain rushes through me and I scrabble for a tissue.

'Don't worry, darling!' says a large lady sitting to my left, wearing a voluminous print dress covered with pineapples. 'He's not worth it! Now you just go home, wash your face, have a nice cup of tea …'

'How do you know she's crying over a man?' chimes in a woman in a dark suit aggressively. 'That is such a cliched, counter-feminist perspective. She could be crying over anything! A piece of music, a line of poetry, world famine, the political situation in the Middle East.' She looks at me expectantly.

'Actually, I was crying over a man,' I admit.

The tube stops, and the woman in the dark suit rolls her eyes at us and gets out. The pineapple lady rolls her eyes back.

'World famine!' she says scornfully, and I can't help giving a half-giggle. 'Now, don't you worry, love.' She gives me a comforting pat on the shoulder as I dab at my eyes. 'Have a nice cup of tea, and a few nice chocolate digestives, and have a nice chat with your mum. You've still got your mum, haven't you?'

'Actually, we're not really speaking at the moment,' I confess.

'Well then, your dad?'

Tacitly, I shake my head.

'Well … how about your best friend? You must have a best friend!' The pineapple lady gives me a comforting smile.

'Yes, I have got a best friend,' I gulp. 'But she's just been informed on national television that I've been having secret lesbian fantasies about her.'

The pineapple lady stares at me silently for a few moments.

'Have a nice cup of tea,' she says at last, with less conviction. 'And … good luck, dear.'

I make my way slowly back from the tube station to our street. As I reach the corner I stop, blow my nose, and take a few deep breaths. The pain in my chest has receded slightly, and in its place I'm feeling thumping, jumping nerves.

How am I going to face Lissy after what Jack said on television? How?

I've known Lissy a long time. And I've had plenty of embarrassing moments in front of her. But none of them comes anywhere near this.

This is worse than the time when I threw up in her parents' bathroom. This is worse than the time she saw me kissing my reflection in the mirror and saying 'ooh, baby' in a sexy voice. This is even worse than the time she caught me writing a Valentine to our maths teacher, Mr Blake.

I am hoping against hope that she might have suddenly decided to go out for the day or something. But as I open the front door of the flat, there she is, coming out of the kitchen into the hall. And as she looks at me, I can already see it in her face. She's completely freaked out.

So that's it. Not only has Jack betrayed me. He's ruined my best friendship, too. Things will never be the same between me and Lissy again. It's just like When Harry Met Sally. Sex has got in the way of our relationship, and now we can't be friends any more because we want to sleep together.

No. Scratch that. We don't want to sleep together. We want to — No, the point is we don't want to—

Anyway. Whatever. It's not good.

'Oh!' she says, staring at the floor. 'Gosh! Um … hi, Emma!'

'Hi!' I reply in a strangled voice. 'I thought I'd come home. The office was just too … too awful …'

I tail off, and there's the most excruciating, prickling silence for a few moments.

'So … I guess you saw it,' I say at last.

'Yes, I saw it,' says Lissy, still staring at the floor, 'And I …' She clears her throat. 'I just wanted to say that … that if you want me to move out, then I will.'

A lump comes to my throat. I knew it. After twenty-one years, our friendship is over. One tiny secret comes out — and that's the end of everything.

'It's OK,' I say, trying not to burst into tears. 'I'll move out.'

'No!' says Lissy awkwardly. 'I'll move out. This isn't your fault, Emma. It's been me who's been … leading you on.'

'What?' I stare at her. 'Lissy, you haven't been leading me on!'

'Yes I have.' She looks stricken. 'I feel terrible. I just never realized you had … those kind of feelings.'

'I don't!'

'But I can see it all now! I've been walking around half-dressed, no wonder you were frustrated!'

'I wasn't frustrated,' I say quickly. 'Lissy, I'm not a lesbian.'

'Bisexual, then. Or "multi-oriented". Whatever term you want to use.'

'I'm not bisexual, either! Or multi-whatever it was.'

'Emma, please!' Lissy grabs my hand. 'Don't be ashamed of your sexuality. And I promise, I'll support you a hundred per cent, whatever choice you decide to make—'

'Lissy, I'm not bisexual!' I cry. 'I don't need support! I just had one dream, OK? It wasn't a fantasy, it was just a weird dream, which I didn't intend to have, and it doesn't mean I'm a lesbian, and it doesn't mean I fancy you, and it doesn't mean anything.'

'Oh.' There's silence. Lissy looks taken aback. 'Oh, right. I thought it was a … a … you know.' She clears her throat. 'That you wanted to …'

'No! I just had a dream. Just one, stupid dream.'

'Oh. Right.'

There's a long pause, during which Lissy looks intently at her fingernails, and I study the buckle of my watch.

'So, did we actually …' says Lissy at last.

Oh God.

'Kind of,' I admit.

'And … was I any good?'

'What?' I gape at her.

'In the dream.' She looks straight at me, her cheeks bright pink. 'Was I any good?'

'Lissy …' I say, pulling an agonized face.

'I was crap, wasn't I? I was crap! I knew it.'

'No, of course you weren't crap!' I exclaim. 'You were … you were really …'

I cannot believe I'm seriously having a conversation about my best friend's sexual prowess as a dream lesbian.

'Look, can we just leave the subject? My day has been embarrassing enough already.'

'Oh. Oh God, yes,' says Lissy, suddenly full of remorse. 'Sorry. Emma. You must be feeling really …'

'Totally and utterly humiliated and betrayed?' I try to give a smile. 'Yup, that's pretty much how I feel.'

'Did anyone at the office see it, then?' says Lissy sympathetically.

'Did anyone at the office see it?' I wheel round. 'Lissy, they all saw it. They all knew it was me! And they were all laughing at me, and I just wanted to curl up and die …'

'Oh God,' says Lissy in distress. 'Really?'

'It was awful.' I close my eyes as fresh mortification washes over me. 'I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I have never felt more … exposed. The whole world knows I find G-strings uncomfortable and I don't really kick-box, and I've never read Dickens.' My voice is wobbling more and more, and then, with no warning, I give a huge sob. 'Oh God, Lissy. You were right. I feel such a complete … fool. He was just using me, right from the beginning. He was never really interested in me. I was just a … a market research project.'

'You don't know that!' she says in dismay.

'I do! Of course I do. That's why he was gripped. That's why he was so fascinated by everything I said. It wasn't because he loved me. It was because he realized he had his target customer, right next to him. The kind of normal, ordinary, girl-on-the-street he would never normally give the time of day to!' I give another huge sob. 'I mean, he said it on the television, didn't he? I'm just a nothing-special girl.'

'You are not,' says Lissy fiercely. 'You are not nothing-special!'

'I am! That's exactly what I am. I'm just an ordinary nothing. And I was so stupid, I believed it all. I honestly thought Jack loved me. I mean, maybe not exactly loved me.' I feel myself colour. 'But … you know. Felt about me like I felt about him.'

'I know.' Lissy looks like she wants to cry herself. 'I know you did.' She leans forward and gives me a huge hug.

Suddenly she draws awkwardly away. 'This isn't making you feel uncomfortable, is it? I mean, it's not … turning you on or anything—'

'Lissy, for the last time, I'm not a lesbian!' I cry in exasperation.

'OK!' she says hurriedly. 'OK. Sorry.' She gives me another tight hug, then stands up. 'Come on,' she says. 'You need a drink.'

We go onto the tiny, overgrown balcony which was described as 'spacious roof terrace' by the landlord when we first rented this flat, and sit in a patch of sun, drinking the schnapps which Lissy got duty-free last year. Each sip makes my mouth burn unbearably, but five seconds later sends a lovely soothing warmth all over my body.

'I should have known,' I say, staring into my glass. 'I should have known a big important millionaire like that would never really be interested in a girl like me.'

'I just can't believe it,' says Lissy, sighing for the thousandth time. 'I can't believe it was all made up. It was all so romantic. Changing his mind about going to America … and the bus … and bringing you that pink cocktail …'

'But that's the point.' I can feel tears rising again, and fiercely blink them back. 'That's what makes it so humiliating. He knew exactly what I would like. I told him on the plane I was bored with Connor. He knew I wanted excitement, and intrigue, and a big romance. He just fed me everything he knew I'd like. And I believed it — because I wanted to believe it.'

'You honestly think the whole thing was one big plan?' Lissy bites her lip.

'Of course it was a plan,' I say tearfully. 'He deliberately followed me around, he watched everything I did, he wanted to get into my life! Look at the way he came and poked around my bedroom. No wonder he seemed so bloody interested. I expect he was taking notes all the time. I expect he had a Dictaphone in his pocket. And I just … invited him in.' I take a deep gulp of schnapps and give a little shudder. 'I am never going to trust a man again. Never.'

'But he seemed so nice!' says Lissy dolefully. 'I just can't believe he was being so cynical.'

'Lissy …' I look up. 'The truth is, a man like that doesn't get to the top without being ruthless and trampling over people. It just doesn't happen.'

'Doesn't it?' She stares back at me, her brow crumpled. 'Maybe you're right. God, how depressing.'

'Is that Emma?' comes a piercing voice, and Jemima appears on the balcony in a white robe and face mask, her eyes narrowed furiously. 'So! Miss I-never-borrow-your-clothes. What have you got to say about my Prada slingbacks?'

Oh God. There's no point lying about it, is there?

'They're really pointy and uncomfortable?' I say with a little shrug, and Jemima inhales sharply.

'I knew it! I knew it all along. You do borrow my clothes. What about my Joseph jumper? What about my Gucci bag?'

'Which Gucci bag?' I shoot back defiantly.

For moment Jemima flounders for words.

'All of them!' she says at last. 'You know, I could sue you for this. I could take you to the cleaners!' She brandishes a piece of paper at me. 'I've got a list here of items of apparel which I fully suspect have been worn by someone other than me during the last three months—'

'Oh shut up about your stupid clothes,' says Lissy. 'Emma's really upset. She's been completely betrayed and humiliated by the man she thought loved her.'