I checked my watch for the seventh time in as many minutes. Face it, Supriya I told myself, he isn’t going to show. I was hovering in the foyer of the local multiplex cinema, in my short skirt, denim halter-neck top and strappy high heel fuck-me sandals, looking like a woman who had been stood up by her date. Which I was. I flipped open my mobile, telling myself that maybe I hadn’t heard it ring when he called to leave a message for

me, which he must have done, if he’d had to cancel. If some kind of emergency had occurred. But there were no messages.