cold to sweep across the room. ‘The Heights Players invite you to their latest production, Romeo and Juliet.’ As the curtains were drawn for the first of two promised intervals, my opinion remained unchanged. The plot seemed endless and the cast fairly weak, only held together by the female lead, who remained stunning in spite of the harsh stage lights that had reduced her colleagues to squinting sheens of sweat. The safety curtain fell at the front of the stage and on it a chubby-faced cloud was blowing a powerful gust of wind through pursed lips. Six beautiful muses protected themselves from this breeze by clutching their golden ringlets over their full breasts and round hips. Drawing my gaze away I saw Imogen making her way towards the exit, so I followed her out to the front of the theatre. Sitting on the icy marble steps, she pulled her coat more tightly around herself and cupped her face in an attempt to light up.After a few unsuccessful attempts, I put my hand above hers to provide better shelter from the wind; the end of her cigarette glowed and she smiled at me in thanks. She took a heavy drag, let a plume of thick smoke roll from her mouth, and looked at me, still staring. ‘Sorry, would you like one?’ ‘I don’t smoke; thank you though.’ ‘Lucky you. I’ve tried to stop, but it just isn’t happening. I’m Imogen.’ ‘Melissa. How are you finding the play?’ ‘Can’t stand the girl playing Juliet. She looks like a bit of a dyke, don’t you think?’ ‘Excuse me?’
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