He sighed, a glass of wine in his hand, then spoke flatly. ‘Those who can, do, those who can’t, teach …’ She spat the words. ‘And those who teach say go fuck yourself.’ And now his glass of wine was in his lap as Emma shoved the table away and jumped to her feet, grabbing her bag, knocking over bottles, clattering plates as she clambered out of the booth, storming through that hateful, hateful place.
