Anger in Pall Mall

We're in a public space.

It's a large, ornate, room,
Shared with other "business people."
Groups sit round small tables
Talking in moderate, measured, tones.
We are talking, low over a spreadsheet;
Planning the next job, probably.
My mobile rings and I go outside to answer it,
Standing in a cubby hole that smells of furniture polish.
The voice at the other end's cajoling.
It almost begs and I feel flattered.
Do I think of you?
Perhaps, but briefly, and I say yes.
As I say it, I know you will be furious.
And you are, very angry,
More angry than I knew you could be.
Your voice is loud.
People stop their conversations
To listen to you rant.
Then you stop, look round and glare.
Up you stand; for one moment still as a statue
Just staring at me.
Then you're gone.
In a few seconds, you pass the window
Storming down Pall Mall to the tube.
Later, I realise the nature of the problem!
I know why it caused so much noise.
I'd got what you believed you had already.
And you'd have happily excused yourself;
Too good to miss…just had to take it!
Leaving me betrayed instead of "the betrayer."