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Fliss was drinking heavily, a constant stream of champagne that did little to numb her feelings. She had arrived home to their empty flat and immediately abandoned all thoughts of her early night. The silence felt oppressive and she wanted to be around people, to see Kit and her friends. She had showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a black vest top, throwing her blazer over the top before catching the tube and heading into chilly Soho.

Kit had pulled her into his arms and she had almost collapsed in relief at the feel of his arms around her, losing herself in his lips as he kissed her deeply.

‘God, I’ve missed you,’ Kit breathed, in that thick Manchester accent, his voice deep and gravelly, the smell of alcohol on his breath.

‘You too,’ Fliss said. She longed to tell him everything, but knew that now wasn’t the time. Tomorrow, when they woke up late, together … . Tonight – tonight was Kit’s night. ‘Congratulations,’ she said, meaning it, and he beamed with delight, thrilled.

‘Gosh, Fliss, this is the start of big things, huge things for us. You’ve got your presenting role, I’m in the West End. Everything we talked about, everything we dreamed about, is coming true. You and me, together.’

His words sparked a thrill of excitement – after all, it was everything she had longed to hear – but the spectre of America loomed over her. It was an incredible offer, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she would be a fool to turn it down.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said into Kit’s ear, raising her voice to be heard above the music which had now segued into a slower R&B number. The noise and the darkness invited closeness, and she relished being so close to Kit, her body pressed against his, feeling the familiar rise of desire that was still as strong as the first time they had met.

‘I love you so much,’ he told her, gazing at her adoringly, his chocolate eyes soft. Her fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands roamed over her body, and as she glanced up she caught Tara watching them, her eyebrows raised sardonically before she turned to laugh with someone next to her. Fliss pulled away, feeling uncomfortable. Kit had clearly already had a few celebratory drinks and she was eager to catch up – though she would be drinking to forget, rather than to celebrate.

She poured herself a glass of champagne from the bottle of Dom Perignon on the table, and Tara raised her hand to the bar staff to order another. Fliss looked around and saw that the whole gang were there: Katie, Sally, Bill – and even Harry.

‘How are you?’ Fliss asked Tara when they had a moment alone together. Harry was all over Katie, not even trying to be discreet, and she knew Tara must be hurting at his callous disregard for what she had been through.

‘Fine. I’m totally fine. Never better.’ Tara’s eyes were glittering dangerously as she refilled her champagne glass. She was wearing a sheer dress, short and tight, low-cut with spaghetti straps and very little underwear – and even though Tara was known for her attention-seeking outfits, this left little to the imagination. The men in the club could barely keep their eyes off her. ‘I definitely made the right decision. I wouldn’t have been able to do the play, so this is definitely, definitely for the best. Bottoms up!’ She giggled ostentatiously, clinking her glass against Fliss’s.

Fliss’s first thought was that Tara definitely wasn’t OK; she could see the desperation in her eyes, the impulse to drink herself into oblivion because everything clearly wasn’t fine. Her second thought was that Tara hadn’t asked how Fliss was. It was true that she didn’t know that Fliss had just received her own life-changing news, and Tara had always been selfish and self-centred. But there were times it irked her, times when she wanted her friend to give a damn about her. The whole world didn’t revolve around Tara Oliver.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ Sally said, coming up beside Fliss and throwing her arms around her. ‘I feel like we hardly ever get a chance to catch up now that you’ve moved out. I miss you!’

‘I miss you too,’ Fliss said, an unexpected lump in her throat. Sally had always been so genuine, their friendship easy and uncomplicated. Fliss appreciated that support now in a way she hadn’t in their teens, when she had been dazzled by Tara and the dramatic maelstrom around her.

‘Kit said you went to see your dad this weekend. How’s he doing?’

The question was so unexpected that it caught Fliss off guard. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where she was taken back to the sight of her emaciated father huddled in his chair, telling her he wasn’t her real father. Fliss swallowed. ‘He’s been a bit under the weather lately, and I feel bad for not seeing him more often.’

Sally nodded empathetically. ‘I know what you mean, life gets so busy, doesn’t it? And your career’s taking off like a rocket. I mean, you’re practically a celebrity now. I should be asking for your autograph.’

‘Hardly,’ Fliss smiled, trying to downplay Sally’s comments. She glanced across at Kit, who was laughing at something with Tara, whose head was bent low to his. Christ, she loved him so much! She still had those flutters in her stomach when she looked at him. She couldn’t possibly leave him. But if he was pursuing his dreams, didn’t she deserve to follow hers?

‘What are you ladies chatting about?’ Bill asked, sidling up behind Sally and slipping an arm around her waist.

‘About how Fliss is a celebrity now,’ Sally giggled. ‘We should ask for seats in the VIP section.’

A sour look passed across his face, which he struggled to hide. Fliss took in the way Bill’s hand was slung possessively around Sally.

‘So are you two official yet?’ she asked. To her, Sally and Bill were such an odd combination – Sally was all positivity and openness, whereas Bill was arrogant and aloof, with a belief that the world owed him a living due to his family name.

‘I don’t know why everyone keeps asking that,’ Sally grinned. ‘We’re just having fun, aren’t we?’ she giggled, turning and wrapping her arms around Bill.

Fun wasn’t a word that Fliss associated with Bill, but there was no accounting for taste, she decided, leaving them to it as they flirted and kissed, Sally’s eyes shining as she gazed up at Bill.

Fliss downed a tequila shot that someone passed her, beginning to feel deliciously drunk, her earlier tension smoothed out by the alcohol. She wanted to forget everything, to feel nothing. The night was beginning to feel messy, a little out of control, everyone dancing and drinking and flirting in the flickering darkness beneath the strobe lights that made everything feel unreal.

Fliss drifted through snatched, open-ended conversations, bumping into people she recognised from the industry, being introduced to people Kit knew. She wasn’t sure who brought the cocaine out, but she wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t unusual amongst her friends, or the media crowd she partied with, but she didn’t take drugs. Tonight, though, no one was being discreet and the white powder was laid out in lines on the table, a rolled up fifty-pound note shared round as everyone took their turn.

Tara went first, which was no surprise to Fliss. She leaned over and snorted, wiping the residue onto her finger and rubbing it onto her gums. Tara had always liked to party hard, wild and uninhibited. Fliss was surprised to see Kit follow suit, but she figured he was celebrating, letting loose, and she sat down beside him, taking the note from him as he finished.

She didn’t even stop to think. Everything was blurring in her mind and the noise in her brain wouldn’t stop – her father’s illness, her true parentage, the offer to work in America, the choice she had to make: her career, or the man she loved …

The winter rose … rubies sparkling in silver.

Fliss leaned down and inhaled sharply, feeling the unpleasant chemical taste hit the back of her nose and throat. But that faded after a moment, and Fliss felt sharper, alert, the tiredness leaving her body. It didn’t matter that she had barely slept the previous night, she wanted to get up and dance, felt as though she could do anything – fly to the stars, take over the world … She wanted to dance with Kit, to press her body against his, tell him how hot he was, how much she loved him.