It was like the torment of university all over again. Henry didn't know what to do. He ended up taking Jenny to the Savoy, with its mirrored dining room over the river with the hundred-year old dance band in the corner. Jenny said she'd always wanted to see it, and with a pixilated grin, toured its bars, hat-checks, and theatre lobby. The bill came to £200.
After that, he treated her to nachos and movies. Nothing else. All his life, you see: his face.
Last night, Jenny coaxed him back into her flat and they made love. Henry was still a virgin, but it made no difference. Pent-up energy or something. They seemed to roll all night long in clouds of each other.
A woman shouts. "Leave it!" Henry jerks awake: Good Lord, Lambeth North.
He jumps through the doors just in time. And thinks of Jenny.