I don't get home until much later that evening. But I'm still smarting from our argument. I
have a throbbing headache, and I feel on the verge of tears.
I open the door of the flat to find Lissy and Jemima in a full-scale argument about animal
rights.
'The mink like being made into coats-' Jemima is saying as I push open the door to the living
room. She breaks off and looks up. 'Emma! Are you all right?'
'No.' I sink down onto the sofa and wrap myself up in the chenille throw which Lissy's mum
gave her for Christmas. 'I had a huge row with Jack.'
'With Jack?'
'You saw him?'
'He came to… well, to apologize, I guess.'
Lissy and Jemima exchange looks.
'What happened?' says Lissy, hugging her knees. 'What did he say?'
I'm silent for a few seconds, trying to remember exactly what he did say. It's all a bit jumbled
up in my head now.
'He said… he didn't ever mean to use me,' I say at last. 'He said I got in his thoughts. He said
he'd fire everyone in the company who teased me.' I can't help giving a half-giggle.
'Really?' says Lissy. 'Gosh. That's quite romant-' She coughs, and pulls an apologetic face.
'Sorry.'
'He said he was really sorry for what happened, and he didn't mean to say all that stuff on the
TV, and that our romance was… Anyway. He said a lot of things. But then he said…' My
heart beats with fresh indignation. 'He said his secrets were more important than mine.'
There's a huge gasp of outrage.
'No!' says Lissy.
'Bastard!' says Jemima. 'What secrets?'
'I asked him about Scotland. And rushing off from the date.' I meet Lissy's eyes. 'And all those
things he would never talk to me about.'
'And what did he say?' says Lissy.
'He wouldn't tell me.' I feel another sting of humiliation. 'He said it was too "sensitive and
complicated".'
'Sensitive and complicated?' Jemima is staring at me, galvanized. 'Jack has a sensitive and
complicated secret? You never mentioned this before! Emma, this is totally perfect. You find
out what it is — and then you expose it!'
I stare at her, my heart beating hard. God, she's right. I could do it. I could get back at Jack. I
could make him hurt like I've been hurt.
'But I have no idea what it is,' I say at last.
'You can find out!' says Jemima. 'That's easy enough. The point is, you know he's hiding
something.'
'There's definitely some kind of mystery,' says Lissy thoughtfully. 'He has all these phone
calls he won't talk about, he rushes off mysteriously from your date-'
'He rushed off mysteriously?' says Jemima avidly. 'Where? Did he say anything? Did you
overhear anything?'
'No!' I say, flushing slightly. 'Of course not. I don't… I would never eavesdrop on people!'
Jemima gives me a close look.
'Don't give me that. Yes you did. You did hear something. Come on, Emma. What was it?'
My mind flashes back to that evening. Sitting on the bench, sipping the pink cocktail. The
breeze is blowing on my face, Jack and Sven are talking behind me in low voices…
'It was nothing much,' I say reluctantly. 'I just heard him say something about having to
transfer something… and Plan B… and something being urgent…'
'Transfer what?' says Lissy suspiciously. 'Funds?'
'I dunno. And they said something about flying back up to Glasgow.'
Jemima looks beside herself.
'Emma, I do not believe this. You've had this information all this time? This has to be
something juicy. It has to be. If only we knew more.' She exhales in frustration. 'You didn't
have a Dictaphone or anything with you?'
'Of course I didn't!' I say with a little laugh. 'It was a date! Do you normally take a Dictaphone
on a…' I tail off incredulously at her expression. 'Jemima. You don't.'
'Not always,' she says, with a defensive shrug. 'Just if I think it might come in… Anyway.
That's irrelevant. The point is, you have information, Emma. You have power. You find out
what this is all about — and then you expose him. That'll show Jack Harper who's boss. That'll
get your revenge!'
I stare back at her determined face, and for a moment I feel a sheer, powerful exhilaration
bubbling through me. That would pay Jack back. That would show him. Then he'd be sorry!
Then he'd see I'm not just some nothing, nobody girl. Then he'd see. Then he'd see.
'So…' I lick my lips. 'So how would I do it?'
'First we try to work out as much as we can ourselves,' says Jemima. 'Then, I've got access to
various… people who can help get more information.' She gives me a tiny wink. 'Discreetly.'
'Private detectives?' says Lissy in disbelief. 'Are you for real?'
'And then we expose him! Mummy's got contacts at all the papers…'
My head is thumping. Am I really talking about doing this? Am I really talking about getting
revenge on Jack?
'A very good place to start is rubbish bins,' adds Jemima knowledgeably. 'You can find all
sorts of things just by looking through somebody's trash.'
And all of a sudden sanity comes flying in through the window.
'Rubbish bins?' I say in horror. 'I'm not looking in any rubbish bins! In fact, I'm not doing this,
full stop. It's a crazy idea.'
'You can't get all precious now, Emma!' says Jemima tartly, flicking back her hair. 'How else
are you going to find out what his secret is?'
'Maybe I don't want to find out what his secret is,' I retort, feeling a sting of pride. 'Maybe I'm
not interested.'
I wrap the chenille throw around me even more tightly, and stare at my toes miserably.
So Jack's got some huge secret he can't trust me with. Well, fine. Let him keep it. I'm not
going to demean myself by grubbing after it. I'm not going to start poking around rubbish bins.
I don't care what it is. I don't care about him.
'I want to forget about it,' I say, my face closing up. 'I want to move on.'
'No you don't!' retorts Jemima. 'Don't be stupid, Emma. This is your big chance for revenge.
We are so going to get him.' I have never seen Jemima look so animated in my life. She
reaches for her bag and gets out a tiny lilac Smythson notebook, together with a Tiffany pen.
'Right, so what do we know? Glasgow… Plan B… transfer…'
The Panther Corporation doesn't have offices in Scotland, does it?' says Lissy thoughtfully.
I turn my head, and stare at her in disbelief. She's scribbling on a pad of legal paper, with
exactly the same preoccupied look she gets when she's solving one of her geeky puzzles. I can
see the words 'Glasgow', 'transfer' and 'Plan B', and a place where she's jumbled up all the
letters in 'Scotland' and tried to make a new word out of them.
For God's sake.
'Lissy, what are you doing?'
'I'm just… fiddling around,' she says, and blushes. 'I might go and look some stuff up on the
Internet, just out of interest.'
'Look, just stop it, both of you!' I say. 'If Jack doesn't want to tell me what his secret is… then
I don't want to know.'
Suddenly I feel completely drained by the day. And kind of bruised. I'm not interested in
Jack's mysterious secret life. I don't want to think about it any more. I want to have a long hot
bath and go to bed and just forget I ever met him.
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
have a throbbing headache, and I feel on the verge of tears.
I open the door of the flat to find Lissy and Jemima in a full-scale argument about animal
rights.
'The mink like being made into coats-' Jemima is saying as I push open the door to the living
room. She breaks off and looks up. 'Emma! Are you all right?'
'No.' I sink down onto the sofa and wrap myself up in the chenille throw which Lissy's mum
gave her for Christmas. 'I had a huge row with Jack.'
'With Jack?'
'You saw him?'
'He came to… well, to apologize, I guess.'
Lissy and Jemima exchange looks.
'What happened?' says Lissy, hugging her knees. 'What did he say?'
I'm silent for a few seconds, trying to remember exactly what he did say. It's all a bit jumbled
up in my head now.
'He said… he didn't ever mean to use me,' I say at last. 'He said I got in his thoughts. He said
he'd fire everyone in the company who teased me.' I can't help giving a half-giggle.
'Really?' says Lissy. 'Gosh. That's quite romant-' She coughs, and pulls an apologetic face.
'Sorry.'
'He said he was really sorry for what happened, and he didn't mean to say all that stuff on the
TV, and that our romance was… Anyway. He said a lot of things. But then he said…' My
heart beats with fresh indignation. 'He said his secrets were more important than mine.'
There's a huge gasp of outrage.
'No!' says Lissy.
'Bastard!' says Jemima. 'What secrets?'
'I asked him about Scotland. And rushing off from the date.' I meet Lissy's eyes. 'And all those
things he would never talk to me about.'
'And what did he say?' says Lissy.
'He wouldn't tell me.' I feel another sting of humiliation. 'He said it was too "sensitive and
complicated".'
'Sensitive and complicated?' Jemima is staring at me, galvanized. 'Jack has a sensitive and
complicated secret? You never mentioned this before! Emma, this is totally perfect. You find
out what it is — and then you expose it!'
I stare at her, my heart beating hard. God, she's right. I could do it. I could get back at Jack. I
could make him hurt like I've been hurt.
'But I have no idea what it is,' I say at last.
'You can find out!' says Jemima. 'That's easy enough. The point is, you know he's hiding
something.'
'There's definitely some kind of mystery,' says Lissy thoughtfully. 'He has all these phone
calls he won't talk about, he rushes off mysteriously from your date-'
'He rushed off mysteriously?' says Jemima avidly. 'Where? Did he say anything? Did you
overhear anything?'
'No!' I say, flushing slightly. 'Of course not. I don't… I would never eavesdrop on people!'
Jemima gives me a close look.
'Don't give me that. Yes you did. You did hear something. Come on, Emma. What was it?'
My mind flashes back to that evening. Sitting on the bench, sipping the pink cocktail. The
breeze is blowing on my face, Jack and Sven are talking behind me in low voices…
'It was nothing much,' I say reluctantly. 'I just heard him say something about having to
transfer something… and Plan B… and something being urgent…'
'Transfer what?' says Lissy suspiciously. 'Funds?'
'I dunno. And they said something about flying back up to Glasgow.'
Jemima looks beside herself.
'Emma, I do not believe this. You've had this information all this time? This has to be
something juicy. It has to be. If only we knew more.' She exhales in frustration. 'You didn't
have a Dictaphone or anything with you?'
'Of course I didn't!' I say with a little laugh. 'It was a date! Do you normally take a Dictaphone
on a…' I tail off incredulously at her expression. 'Jemima. You don't.'
'Not always,' she says, with a defensive shrug. 'Just if I think it might come in… Anyway.
That's irrelevant. The point is, you have information, Emma. You have power. You find out
what this is all about — and then you expose him. That'll show Jack Harper who's boss. That'll
get your revenge!'
I stare back at her determined face, and for a moment I feel a sheer, powerful exhilaration
bubbling through me. That would pay Jack back. That would show him. Then he'd be sorry!
Then he'd see I'm not just some nothing, nobody girl. Then he'd see. Then he'd see.
'So…' I lick my lips. 'So how would I do it?'
'First we try to work out as much as we can ourselves,' says Jemima. 'Then, I've got access to
various… people who can help get more information.' She gives me a tiny wink. 'Discreetly.'
'Private detectives?' says Lissy in disbelief. 'Are you for real?'
'And then we expose him! Mummy's got contacts at all the papers…'
My head is thumping. Am I really talking about doing this? Am I really talking about getting
revenge on Jack?
'A very good place to start is rubbish bins,' adds Jemima knowledgeably. 'You can find all
sorts of things just by looking through somebody's trash.'
And all of a sudden sanity comes flying in through the window.
'Rubbish bins?' I say in horror. 'I'm not looking in any rubbish bins! In fact, I'm not doing this,
full stop. It's a crazy idea.'
'You can't get all precious now, Emma!' says Jemima tartly, flicking back her hair. 'How else
are you going to find out what his secret is?'
'Maybe I don't want to find out what his secret is,' I retort, feeling a sting of pride. 'Maybe I'm
not interested.'
I wrap the chenille throw around me even more tightly, and stare at my toes miserably.
So Jack's got some huge secret he can't trust me with. Well, fine. Let him keep it. I'm not
going to demean myself by grubbing after it. I'm not going to start poking around rubbish bins.
I don't care what it is. I don't care about him.
'I want to forget about it,' I say, my face closing up. 'I want to move on.'
'No you don't!' retorts Jemima. 'Don't be stupid, Emma. This is your big chance for revenge.
We are so going to get him.' I have never seen Jemima look so animated in my life. She
reaches for her bag and gets out a tiny lilac Smythson notebook, together with a Tiffany pen.
'Right, so what do we know? Glasgow… Plan B… transfer…'
The Panther Corporation doesn't have offices in Scotland, does it?' says Lissy thoughtfully.
I turn my head, and stare at her in disbelief. She's scribbling on a pad of legal paper, with
exactly the same preoccupied look she gets when she's solving one of her geeky puzzles. I can
see the words 'Glasgow', 'transfer' and 'Plan B', and a place where she's jumbled up all the
letters in 'Scotland' and tried to make a new word out of them.
For God's sake.
'Lissy, what are you doing?'
'I'm just… fiddling around,' she says, and blushes. 'I might go and look some stuff up on the
Internet, just out of interest.'
'Look, just stop it, both of you!' I say. 'If Jack doesn't want to tell me what his secret is… then
I don't want to know.'
Suddenly I feel completely drained by the day. And kind of bruised. I'm not interested in
Jack's mysterious secret life. I don't want to think about it any more. I want to have a long hot
bath and go to bed and just forget I ever met him.
TWENTY-THREE
Except of course I can't.
I can't forget about Jack. I can't forget about our argument.
His face keeps appearing in my head when I don't want it to. The way he stared at me in the
sunlight, his face all crinkled up. The way he bought the lucky heather.
I lie in bed, my heart hammering, going over it again and again. Feeling the same smart of
hurt. The same disappointment.
I told him everything about myself. Everything. And he won't even tell me one-
Anyway. Anyway.
I don't care.
I'm not going to think about him any more. He can do what he likes. He can keep his stupid
secrets.
Good luck to him. That's it. He's out of my brain.
Gone for good.
I stare at the darkened ceiling for a few moments.
And what did he mean by that, anyway? Is it such a disaster for people to know the truth
about you?
He can talk. He can so talk. Mr Mystery. Mr Sensitive and Complicated.
I should have said that. I should have said-
No. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him. It's over.
As I pad into the kitchen the next morning to make a cup of tea, I'm fully resolved. I'm not
even going to think about Jack from now on. Finito. Fin. The End.
'OK. I have three theories.' Lissy arrives breathlessly at the door of the kitchen in her pyjamas,
holding her legal pad.
'What?' I look up blearily.
'Jack's big secret. I have three theories.'
'Only three?' says Jemima, appearing behind her in her white robe, clutching her Smythson
notebook. 'I've got eight!'
'Eight?' Lissy stares at her, affronted.
'I don't want to hear any theories,' I say. 'Look, both of you, this has been really painful for me.
Can't you just respect my feelings and drop it?'
They both look at me blankly for a second, then turn back to each other.
'Eight?' says Lissy again. 'How did you get eight?'
'Easy-peasy. But I'm sure yours are very good too,' says Jemima kindly. 'Why don't you go
first?'
'OK,' says Lissy with a look of annoyance, and clears her throat. 'Number one: He's relocating
the whole of the Panther Corporation to Scotland. He was up there reconnoitring, and didn't
want you spreading rumours. Number two: He's involved in some kind of white-collar fraud
…'
'What?' I stare at her. 'Why do you say that?'
'I looked up the accountants who audited the last Panther Corporation accounts, and they've
been involved in a few big scandals recently. Which doesn't prove anything, but if he's acting
shadily and talking about transfers…' She pulls a face and I stare back, disconcerted.
Jack a fraudster? No. He couldn't be. He couldn't.
Not that I care one way or the other.
'Can I say that both of those sound highly unlikely to me?' says Jemima with raised eyebrows.
'Well, what's your theory, then?' says Lissy crossly.
'Plastic surgery, of course!' she says triumphantly. 'He has a face-lift and he doesn't want
anyone to know, so he recuperates in Scotland. And I know what the B is in Plan B.'
'What?' I say suspiciously.
'Botox!' says Jemima with a flourish. 'That's why he rushed off from your date. To have his
fine lines smoothed. The doctor suddenly had a spare appointment, his friend came to tell
him-'
What planet does Jemima come from?
'Jack would never have Botox!' I say. 'Or a face-lift!'
'You don't know that!' She gives me a telling look. 'Compare a recent photo of Jack with an
old one, and I bet you see a difference-'
'OK, Miss Marple,' says Lissy, rolling her eyes. 'So what are your other seven theories?'
'Let me see…' Jemima turns the page of her notebook. 'OK, this one's rather good He's in the
Mafia.' She pauses for effect. 'His father was shot, and he's planning to murder the heads of all
the other families.'
'Jemima, that's The Godfather,' says Lissy.
'Oh.' She looks put out. 'I thought it seemed a bit familiar.' She crosses it out. 'Well, here's
another one. He has an autistic brother…'
'Rain Man.'
'Oh. Damn.' She pulls a face and looks at her list again. 'So maybe not that after all… or that
…' She start crossing entries out. 'OK. But I do have one more.' She raises her head. 'He's got
another woman.'
I stare at her, feeling a jolt. Another woman. I never even thought of that.
'That was my last theory, too,' says Lissy apologetically. 'Another woman.'
'You both think it's another woman?' I look from face to face. 'But… but why?'
Suddenly I feel really small. And stupid. Has Jack been playing me along? Have I been even
more naive than I originally thought?
'It just seems quite a likely explanation,' says Jemima with a shrug. 'He's having some
clandestine affair with a woman in Scotland. He was paying her a secret visit when he met
you. She keeps phoning him, maybe they were having a row, then she comes to London
unexpectedly, so he has to dash off from your date.'
Lissy glances at my stricken face.
'But maybe he's relocating the company,' she says encouragingly. 'Or a fraudster.'
'Well, I don't care what he's doing,' I say, my face burning. 'It's his business. And he's
welcome to it.'
I get a pint of milk from the fridge and slam it shut, my hands trembling slightly. Sensitive
and complicated. Is that code for 'I'm seeing someone else?'
Well, fine. Let him have another woman. I don't care.
'It's your business too!' says Jemima. 'If you're going to get revenge-'
Oh for God's sake.
'I don't want to get revenge, OK?' I say, turning round to face her. 'It's not healthy. I want to
… heal my wounds and move on.'
'Yes, and shall I tell you another word for revenge?' she retorts, as though pulling a rabbit out
of a hat. 'Closure!'
'Jemima, closure and revenge are not actually the same thing,' says Lissy.
'In my book they are.' She gives me an impressive look. 'Emma, you're my friend, and I'm not
going to let you just sit back and allow yourself to be mistreated by some bastard man. He
deserves to pay. He deserves to be punished!'
I stare at Jemima, feeling a few tiny qualms.
'Jemima, you're not actually going to do anything about this.'
'Of course I am,' she says. 'I'm not going to stand by and see you suffer. It's called the
sisterhood, Emma!'
Oh my God. I have visions of Jemima rooting through Jack's rubbish bins in her pink Gucci
suit. Or scraping his car with a nail file.
'Jemima… don't do anything,' I say in alarm. 'Please. I don't want you to.'
'You think you don't. But you'll thank me later-'
'No I won't! Jemima, you have to promise me you're not going to do anything stupid.'
She tightens her jaw mutinously.
'Promise!'
'OK,' says Jemima at last, rolling her eyes. 'I promise.'
'She's crossing her fingers behind her back,' observes Lissy.
'What?' I stare at Jemima in disbelief. 'Promise properly! Swear on something you really love.'
'Oh God,' says Jemima sulkily. 'All right, you win. I swear on my Miu Miu ponyskin bag, I
won't do anything. But you're making a big mistake, you know.'
She saunters out of the room, and I watch her, a bit uneasily.
'That girl is a total psychopath,' says Lissy, sinking down onto a chair. 'Why did we ever let
her move in here?' She takes a sip of tea. 'Actually, I remember why. It was because her dad
gave us a whole year's rent in advance-' She catches my expression. 'Are you OK?'
'You don't think she'll actually do anything to Jack, do you?'
'Of course not,' says Lissy reassuringly. 'She's all talk. She'll probably bump into one of her
ditzy friends and forget all about it.'
'You're right.' I give myself a little shake. 'You're right.' I pick up my cup and look at it
silently for a few moments. 'Lissy, do you really think Jack's secret is another woman?'
Lissy opens her mouth.
'Anyway, I don't care,' I add defiantly, before she can answer. 'I don't care what it is.'
'Sure,' says Lissy, and gives me a sympathetic smile.
As I arrive at the office, Artemis looks up from her desk with a bright-eyed glance.
'Morning Emma!' She smirks at Catherine. 'Read any intellectual books lately?'
Oh, ha ha-di-ha. So, so funny. Everyone else at work has got bored with teasing me. Only
Artemis still thinks it's completely hilarious.
'Actually, Artemis, I have,' I say brightly, taking off my jacket. 'I read this really good book
recently, it was called "What to do if your colleague is an obnoxious cow who picks her nose
when she thinks no-one's looking."'
There's a guffaw around the office, and Artemis flushes a dark red.
'I don't!' she snaps.
'I never said you did,' I reply innocently, and switch on my computer with a flourish.
'Ready to go to the meeting, Artemis?' says Paul, coming out of his office with his briefcase
and a magazine in his hand. 'And by the way, Nick,' he adds ominously, 'Before I go, would
you mind telling me what on earth possessed you to put a coupon ad for Panther Bars in -' he
consults the front cover
'— Bowling Monthly magazine? I'm assuming it was you, as this is your product?'
My heart gives a little swoop, and I lift my head. Shit. Double shit. I didn't think Paul would
ever find out about that.
Nick shoots me a dirty look and I pull an agonized face back.
'Well,' he begins truculently. 'Yes, Paul. Panther Bars are my product. But as it happens-'
Oh God. I can't let him take the blame.
'Paul,' I say in a trembling voice, half raising my hand. 'Actually, it was-'
'Because I want to tell you,' Paul grins at Nick. 'It was bloody inspired! I've just had the
feedback figures, and bearing in mind the pitiful circulation… they're extraordinary!'
I stare at him in astonishment. The ad worked?
'Really?' says Nick, obviously trying to sound not too amazed. 'I mean — excellent!'
'What the fuck compelled you to advertise a teenage bar to a load of old codgers?'
'Well!' Nick adjusts his cufflinks, not looking anywhere near me. 'Obviously it was a bit of a
gamble. But I simply felt that maybe it was time to… to fly a few kites… experiment with a
new demographic…'
Hang on a minute. What's he saying?
'Well, your experiment paid off.' Paul gives Nick an approving look. 'And very interestingly,
it coincides with some Scandinavian market research we've just had in. If you'd like to see me
later, to discuss it-'
'Sure!' says Nick with a pleased smile. 'What sort of time?'
No! How can he? He is such a bastard.
'Wait!' To my own astonishment, I leap to my feet in outrage. 'Wait a minute! That was my
idea!'
'What?' Paul frowns.
'The Bowling Monthly ad. It was my idea. Wasn't it, Nick?' I look directly at him.
'Maybe we discussed it,' he says, not meeting my eye. 'I don't really remember. But you know,
something you'll have to learn, Emma, is that marketing's all about team-work…'.
'Don't patronize me! This wasn't team-work. It was totally my idea. I put it in for my grandpa!'
Damn. I didn't quite mean to let that slip out.
'First your parents. Now your grandpa,' says Paul, turning to look at me. 'Emma, remind me,
is this Bring Your Entire Family To Work week?'
'No! It's just…' I begin, a little hot under his gaze. 'You said you were going to axe Panther
Bars, so I… I thought I'd give him and his friends some money off, and they could all stock
up. I tried to tell you at that big meeting, my grandfather loves Panther Bars! And so do all his
friends. If you ask me, you should be marketing Panther Bars at them, not teenagers.'
There's silence. Paul looks astonished.
'You know, in Scandinavia, they're coming to the same conclusion,' he says. 'That's what this
new research shows.'
'Oh,' I say. 'Well… there you go.'
'So why does this older generation like Panther Bars so much, Emma? Do you know?' He
sounds genuinely fascinated.
'Yes, of course I know.'
'It's the grey pound,' puts in Nick wisely. 'Demographic shifts in the pensionable population
are accounting for-'
'No it's not!' I say impatiently. 'It's because… because…' Oh God, Grandpa will absolutely
kill me for saying this. 'It's because… they don't pull out their false teeth.'
There's a staggered pause. Then Paul throws back his head and roars with laughter. 'False
teeth,' he says, wiping his eyes. 'That is sheer bloody genius, Emma. False teeth!'
He chuckles again and I stare back at him, feeling the blood beating in my head. I've got the
strangest feeling. Like something's building up inside me, as though I'm about to-
'So can I have a promotion?'
'What?' Paul looks up.
Did I really just say that? Out loud?
'Can I have a promotion?' My voice is trembling slightly, but I hold firm. 'You said if I
created my own opportunities I could have a promotion. That's what you said. Isn't this
creating my own opportunities?'
Paul looks at me for a few moments, blinking, saying nothing.
'You know, Emma Corrigan,' he says at last. 'You are one of the most… one of the most
surprising people I've ever known.'
'Is that a yes?' I persist.
There's silence in the entire office. Everyone's waiting to see what he'll say.
'Oh, for God's sake,' he says, rolling his eyes. 'All right! You can have a promotion. Is that it?'
'No,' I hear myself saying, my heart beating even more furiously. 'There's more. Paul, I broke
your World Cup mug.'
'What?' He looks gobsmacked.
'I'm really sorry. I'll buy you another one.' I look around the silent, gawping office. 'And it
was me who jammed the copier that time. In fact… all the times. And that bottom…' Amid
agog faces, I walk to the pin-board and rip down the photocopied, G-stringed bottom. 'That's
mine, and I don't want it up there any more.' I swivel round. 'And Artemis, about your spider
plant…'
'What?' she says suspiciously.
I stare at her, in her Burberry raincoat and her designer spectacles, and her smug, I'm-betterthan-
you face.
OK, let's not get carried away. 'I… I can't think what's wrong with it.' I smile at her. 'Have a
good meeting.'
For the rest of the day, I am totally exhilarated. Kind of shocked and exhilarated, all at the
same time. I can't believe I'm getting a promotion. I'm actually going to be a Marketing
Executive!
But it's not just that. I don't quite know what's happened to me. I feel like a whole new person.
So what if I broke Paul's mug? Who cares? So what if everyone knows how much I weigh?
Who cares? Goodbye old, crap Emma, who hides her Oxfam bags under her desk. Hello new,
confident Emma, who proudly hangs them on her chair.
I rang Mum and Dad to tell them I was getting promoted, and they were so impressed! They
said at once they'd come up to London and take me out to celebrate. And then I had a really
nice long chat with Mum about Jack. She said some relationships were supposed to last for
ever and some were only supposed to last a few days, and that was just the way life was. Then
she told me all about some chap in Paris who she'd had some amazing forty-eight hour fling
with. She said she'd never experienced physical pleasure like it, and she knew it could never
last, but that made it all the more poignant.
Then she added I needn't mention any of this to Dad.
Gosh. I'm actually quite shocked. I always thought Mum and Dad… at least, I never…
Well. It just goes to show.
But she is right. Some relationships are meant to be short-lived. Jack and I were obviously
never going to get anywhere. And actually, I'm very sorted out about it. In fact, I'm pretty
much over him. My heart only went into spasm once today, when I thought I saw him in the
corridor, and I recovered really quickly.
My whole new life begins today. In fact, I expect I'll meet someone new tonight at Lissy's
dancing show. Some really tall, dashing lawyer. Yes. And he'll come and pick me up from
work in his amazingly fab sports car. And I'll trip happily down the steps, tossing my hair
back, not even looking at Jack, who will be standing at his office window, glowering…
No. No. Jack won't be anywhere. I am over Jack. I have to remember this.
Maybe I'll write it on my hand.
I can't forget about Jack. I can't forget about our argument.
His face keeps appearing in my head when I don't want it to. The way he stared at me in the
sunlight, his face all crinkled up. The way he bought the lucky heather.
I lie in bed, my heart hammering, going over it again and again. Feeling the same smart of
hurt. The same disappointment.
I told him everything about myself. Everything. And he won't even tell me one-
Anyway. Anyway.
I don't care.
I'm not going to think about him any more. He can do what he likes. He can keep his stupid
secrets.
Good luck to him. That's it. He's out of my brain.
Gone for good.
I stare at the darkened ceiling for a few moments.
And what did he mean by that, anyway? Is it such a disaster for people to know the truth
about you?
He can talk. He can so talk. Mr Mystery. Mr Sensitive and Complicated.
I should have said that. I should have said-
No. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him. It's over.
As I pad into the kitchen the next morning to make a cup of tea, I'm fully resolved. I'm not
even going to think about Jack from now on. Finito. Fin. The End.
'OK. I have three theories.' Lissy arrives breathlessly at the door of the kitchen in her pyjamas,
holding her legal pad.
'What?' I look up blearily.
'Jack's big secret. I have three theories.'
'Only three?' says Jemima, appearing behind her in her white robe, clutching her Smythson
notebook. 'I've got eight!'
'Eight?' Lissy stares at her, affronted.
'I don't want to hear any theories,' I say. 'Look, both of you, this has been really painful for me.
Can't you just respect my feelings and drop it?'
They both look at me blankly for a second, then turn back to each other.
'Eight?' says Lissy again. 'How did you get eight?'
'Easy-peasy. But I'm sure yours are very good too,' says Jemima kindly. 'Why don't you go
first?'
'OK,' says Lissy with a look of annoyance, and clears her throat. 'Number one: He's relocating
the whole of the Panther Corporation to Scotland. He was up there reconnoitring, and didn't
want you spreading rumours. Number two: He's involved in some kind of white-collar fraud
…'
'What?' I stare at her. 'Why do you say that?'
'I looked up the accountants who audited the last Panther Corporation accounts, and they've
been involved in a few big scandals recently. Which doesn't prove anything, but if he's acting
shadily and talking about transfers…' She pulls a face and I stare back, disconcerted.
Jack a fraudster? No. He couldn't be. He couldn't.
Not that I care one way or the other.
'Can I say that both of those sound highly unlikely to me?' says Jemima with raised eyebrows.
'Well, what's your theory, then?' says Lissy crossly.
'Plastic surgery, of course!' she says triumphantly. 'He has a face-lift and he doesn't want
anyone to know, so he recuperates in Scotland. And I know what the B is in Plan B.'
'What?' I say suspiciously.
'Botox!' says Jemima with a flourish. 'That's why he rushed off from your date. To have his
fine lines smoothed. The doctor suddenly had a spare appointment, his friend came to tell
him-'
What planet does Jemima come from?
'Jack would never have Botox!' I say. 'Or a face-lift!'
'You don't know that!' She gives me a telling look. 'Compare a recent photo of Jack with an
old one, and I bet you see a difference-'
'OK, Miss Marple,' says Lissy, rolling her eyes. 'So what are your other seven theories?'
'Let me see…' Jemima turns the page of her notebook. 'OK, this one's rather good He's in the
Mafia.' She pauses for effect. 'His father was shot, and he's planning to murder the heads of all
the other families.'
'Jemima, that's The Godfather,' says Lissy.
'Oh.' She looks put out. 'I thought it seemed a bit familiar.' She crosses it out. 'Well, here's
another one. He has an autistic brother…'
'Rain Man.'
'Oh. Damn.' She pulls a face and looks at her list again. 'So maybe not that after all… or that
…' She start crossing entries out. 'OK. But I do have one more.' She raises her head. 'He's got
another woman.'
I stare at her, feeling a jolt. Another woman. I never even thought of that.
'That was my last theory, too,' says Lissy apologetically. 'Another woman.'
'You both think it's another woman?' I look from face to face. 'But… but why?'
Suddenly I feel really small. And stupid. Has Jack been playing me along? Have I been even
more naive than I originally thought?
'It just seems quite a likely explanation,' says Jemima with a shrug. 'He's having some
clandestine affair with a woman in Scotland. He was paying her a secret visit when he met
you. She keeps phoning him, maybe they were having a row, then she comes to London
unexpectedly, so he has to dash off from your date.'
Lissy glances at my stricken face.
'But maybe he's relocating the company,' she says encouragingly. 'Or a fraudster.'
'Well, I don't care what he's doing,' I say, my face burning. 'It's his business. And he's
welcome to it.'
I get a pint of milk from the fridge and slam it shut, my hands trembling slightly. Sensitive
and complicated. Is that code for 'I'm seeing someone else?'
Well, fine. Let him have another woman. I don't care.
'It's your business too!' says Jemima. 'If you're going to get revenge-'
Oh for God's sake.
'I don't want to get revenge, OK?' I say, turning round to face her. 'It's not healthy. I want to
… heal my wounds and move on.'
'Yes, and shall I tell you another word for revenge?' she retorts, as though pulling a rabbit out
of a hat. 'Closure!'
'Jemima, closure and revenge are not actually the same thing,' says Lissy.
'In my book they are.' She gives me an impressive look. 'Emma, you're my friend, and I'm not
going to let you just sit back and allow yourself to be mistreated by some bastard man. He
deserves to pay. He deserves to be punished!'
I stare at Jemima, feeling a few tiny qualms.
'Jemima, you're not actually going to do anything about this.'
'Of course I am,' she says. 'I'm not going to stand by and see you suffer. It's called the
sisterhood, Emma!'
Oh my God. I have visions of Jemima rooting through Jack's rubbish bins in her pink Gucci
suit. Or scraping his car with a nail file.
'Jemima… don't do anything,' I say in alarm. 'Please. I don't want you to.'
'You think you don't. But you'll thank me later-'
'No I won't! Jemima, you have to promise me you're not going to do anything stupid.'
She tightens her jaw mutinously.
'Promise!'
'OK,' says Jemima at last, rolling her eyes. 'I promise.'
'She's crossing her fingers behind her back,' observes Lissy.
'What?' I stare at Jemima in disbelief. 'Promise properly! Swear on something you really love.'
'Oh God,' says Jemima sulkily. 'All right, you win. I swear on my Miu Miu ponyskin bag, I
won't do anything. But you're making a big mistake, you know.'
She saunters out of the room, and I watch her, a bit uneasily.
'That girl is a total psychopath,' says Lissy, sinking down onto a chair. 'Why did we ever let
her move in here?' She takes a sip of tea. 'Actually, I remember why. It was because her dad
gave us a whole year's rent in advance-' She catches my expression. 'Are you OK?'
'You don't think she'll actually do anything to Jack, do you?'
'Of course not,' says Lissy reassuringly. 'She's all talk. She'll probably bump into one of her
ditzy friends and forget all about it.'
'You're right.' I give myself a little shake. 'You're right.' I pick up my cup and look at it
silently for a few moments. 'Lissy, do you really think Jack's secret is another woman?'
Lissy opens her mouth.
'Anyway, I don't care,' I add defiantly, before she can answer. 'I don't care what it is.'
'Sure,' says Lissy, and gives me a sympathetic smile.
As I arrive at the office, Artemis looks up from her desk with a bright-eyed glance.
'Morning Emma!' She smirks at Catherine. 'Read any intellectual books lately?'
Oh, ha ha-di-ha. So, so funny. Everyone else at work has got bored with teasing me. Only
Artemis still thinks it's completely hilarious.
'Actually, Artemis, I have,' I say brightly, taking off my jacket. 'I read this really good book
recently, it was called "What to do if your colleague is an obnoxious cow who picks her nose
when she thinks no-one's looking."'
There's a guffaw around the office, and Artemis flushes a dark red.
'I don't!' she snaps.
'I never said you did,' I reply innocently, and switch on my computer with a flourish.
'Ready to go to the meeting, Artemis?' says Paul, coming out of his office with his briefcase
and a magazine in his hand. 'And by the way, Nick,' he adds ominously, 'Before I go, would
you mind telling me what on earth possessed you to put a coupon ad for Panther Bars in -' he
consults the front cover
'— Bowling Monthly magazine? I'm assuming it was you, as this is your product?'
My heart gives a little swoop, and I lift my head. Shit. Double shit. I didn't think Paul would
ever find out about that.
Nick shoots me a dirty look and I pull an agonized face back.
'Well,' he begins truculently. 'Yes, Paul. Panther Bars are my product. But as it happens-'
Oh God. I can't let him take the blame.
'Paul,' I say in a trembling voice, half raising my hand. 'Actually, it was-'
'Because I want to tell you,' Paul grins at Nick. 'It was bloody inspired! I've just had the
feedback figures, and bearing in mind the pitiful circulation… they're extraordinary!'
I stare at him in astonishment. The ad worked?
'Really?' says Nick, obviously trying to sound not too amazed. 'I mean — excellent!'
'What the fuck compelled you to advertise a teenage bar to a load of old codgers?'
'Well!' Nick adjusts his cufflinks, not looking anywhere near me. 'Obviously it was a bit of a
gamble. But I simply felt that maybe it was time to… to fly a few kites… experiment with a
new demographic…'
Hang on a minute. What's he saying?
'Well, your experiment paid off.' Paul gives Nick an approving look. 'And very interestingly,
it coincides with some Scandinavian market research we've just had in. If you'd like to see me
later, to discuss it-'
'Sure!' says Nick with a pleased smile. 'What sort of time?'
No! How can he? He is such a bastard.
'Wait!' To my own astonishment, I leap to my feet in outrage. 'Wait a minute! That was my
idea!'
'What?' Paul frowns.
'The Bowling Monthly ad. It was my idea. Wasn't it, Nick?' I look directly at him.
'Maybe we discussed it,' he says, not meeting my eye. 'I don't really remember. But you know,
something you'll have to learn, Emma, is that marketing's all about team-work…'.
'Don't patronize me! This wasn't team-work. It was totally my idea. I put it in for my grandpa!'
Damn. I didn't quite mean to let that slip out.
'First your parents. Now your grandpa,' says Paul, turning to look at me. 'Emma, remind me,
is this Bring Your Entire Family To Work week?'
'No! It's just…' I begin, a little hot under his gaze. 'You said you were going to axe Panther
Bars, so I… I thought I'd give him and his friends some money off, and they could all stock
up. I tried to tell you at that big meeting, my grandfather loves Panther Bars! And so do all his
friends. If you ask me, you should be marketing Panther Bars at them, not teenagers.'
There's silence. Paul looks astonished.
'You know, in Scandinavia, they're coming to the same conclusion,' he says. 'That's what this
new research shows.'
'Oh,' I say. 'Well… there you go.'
'So why does this older generation like Panther Bars so much, Emma? Do you know?' He
sounds genuinely fascinated.
'Yes, of course I know.'
'It's the grey pound,' puts in Nick wisely. 'Demographic shifts in the pensionable population
are accounting for-'
'No it's not!' I say impatiently. 'It's because… because…' Oh God, Grandpa will absolutely
kill me for saying this. 'It's because… they don't pull out their false teeth.'
There's a staggered pause. Then Paul throws back his head and roars with laughter. 'False
teeth,' he says, wiping his eyes. 'That is sheer bloody genius, Emma. False teeth!'
He chuckles again and I stare back at him, feeling the blood beating in my head. I've got the
strangest feeling. Like something's building up inside me, as though I'm about to-
'So can I have a promotion?'
'What?' Paul looks up.
Did I really just say that? Out loud?
'Can I have a promotion?' My voice is trembling slightly, but I hold firm. 'You said if I
created my own opportunities I could have a promotion. That's what you said. Isn't this
creating my own opportunities?'
Paul looks at me for a few moments, blinking, saying nothing.
'You know, Emma Corrigan,' he says at last. 'You are one of the most… one of the most
surprising people I've ever known.'
'Is that a yes?' I persist.
There's silence in the entire office. Everyone's waiting to see what he'll say.
'Oh, for God's sake,' he says, rolling his eyes. 'All right! You can have a promotion. Is that it?'
'No,' I hear myself saying, my heart beating even more furiously. 'There's more. Paul, I broke
your World Cup mug.'
'What?' He looks gobsmacked.
'I'm really sorry. I'll buy you another one.' I look around the silent, gawping office. 'And it
was me who jammed the copier that time. In fact… all the times. And that bottom…' Amid
agog faces, I walk to the pin-board and rip down the photocopied, G-stringed bottom. 'That's
mine, and I don't want it up there any more.' I swivel round. 'And Artemis, about your spider
plant…'
'What?' she says suspiciously.
I stare at her, in her Burberry raincoat and her designer spectacles, and her smug, I'm-betterthan-
you face.
OK, let's not get carried away. 'I… I can't think what's wrong with it.' I smile at her. 'Have a
good meeting.'
For the rest of the day, I am totally exhilarated. Kind of shocked and exhilarated, all at the
same time. I can't believe I'm getting a promotion. I'm actually going to be a Marketing
Executive!
But it's not just that. I don't quite know what's happened to me. I feel like a whole new person.
So what if I broke Paul's mug? Who cares? So what if everyone knows how much I weigh?
Who cares? Goodbye old, crap Emma, who hides her Oxfam bags under her desk. Hello new,
confident Emma, who proudly hangs them on her chair.
I rang Mum and Dad to tell them I was getting promoted, and they were so impressed! They
said at once they'd come up to London and take me out to celebrate. And then I had a really
nice long chat with Mum about Jack. She said some relationships were supposed to last for
ever and some were only supposed to last a few days, and that was just the way life was. Then
she told me all about some chap in Paris who she'd had some amazing forty-eight hour fling
with. She said she'd never experienced physical pleasure like it, and she knew it could never
last, but that made it all the more poignant.
Then she added I needn't mention any of this to Dad.
Gosh. I'm actually quite shocked. I always thought Mum and Dad… at least, I never…
Well. It just goes to show.
But she is right. Some relationships are meant to be short-lived. Jack and I were obviously
never going to get anywhere. And actually, I'm very sorted out about it. In fact, I'm pretty
much over him. My heart only went into spasm once today, when I thought I saw him in the
corridor, and I recovered really quickly.
My whole new life begins today. In fact, I expect I'll meet someone new tonight at Lissy's
dancing show. Some really tall, dashing lawyer. Yes. And he'll come and pick me up from
work in his amazingly fab sports car. And I'll trip happily down the steps, tossing my hair
back, not even looking at Jack, who will be standing at his office window, glowering…
No. No. Jack won't be anywhere. I am over Jack. I have to remember this.
Maybe I'll write it on my hand.
TWENTY-FOUR
Lissy's dancing show is being held in a theatre in Bloomsbury set in a small gravelled
courtyard, and when I arrive I find the entire place crammed with lawyers in expensive suits
using their mobile phones.
'… client unwilling to accept the terms of agreement…'
'… attention to clause four, comma, notwithstanding…'
No-one is making the slightest attempt to go into the auditorium yet, so I head backstage, to
give Lissy the bouquet I've bought for her. (I was originally planning to throw it onto the
stage at the end, but it's roses, and I'm a bit worried it might ladder her tights.)
As I walk down the shabby corridors, music is being piped through the sound system and
people keep brushing past me in glittery costumes. A man with blue feathers in his hair is
stretching his leg against the wall and talking to someone in a dressing room at the same time.
'So then I pointed out to that idiot of a prosecuting counsel that the precedent set in 1983 by
Miller v. Davy means…' He suddenly stops. 'Shit. I've forgotten my first steps.' His face
drains of colour. 'I can't remember a fucking thing. I'm not joking! I jete on — then what?' He
looks at me as though expecting me to supply him with an answer.
'Er… a pirouette?' I hazard, and awkwardly hurry on, nearly tripping over a girl doing the
splits. Then I catch sight of Lissy sitting on a stool in one of the dressing rooms. Her face is
heavily made up and her eyes are all huge and glittery, and she's got blue feathers in her hair
too.
'Oh my God, Lissy!' I say, halting in the doorway. 'You look amazing! I completely love
your-'
'I can't do it.'
'What?'
'I can't do it!' she repeats desperately, and pulls her cotton robe around her. 'I can't remember
anything. My mind is blank!'
'Everyone thinks that,' I say reassuringly. 'There was a guy outside saying exactly the same
thing-'
'No. I really can't remember anything.' Lissy stares at me with wild eyes. 'My legs feel like
cotton wool, I can't breathe…' She picks up a blusher brush, looks at it bleakly, then puts it
down. 'Why did I ever agree to do this? Why?'
'Er… because it would be fun?'
'Fun?' Her voice rises in disbelief. 'You think this is fun? Oh God.' Suddenly her face changes
expression, and she breaks off and rushes through an adjoining door. The next moment I can
hear her retching.
OK, there's something wrong here. I thought dancing was suppose to be good for your health.
She appears at the door again, pale and trembling, and I peer at her anxiously.
'Liss, are you all right?'
'I can't do it,' she says. 'I can't.' She seems to come to a sudden decision. 'OK, I'm going
home.' She starts reaching for her clothes. 'Tell them I was suddenly taken ill, it was an
emergency…'
'You can't go home!' I say in horror, and try to grab the clothes out of her hands. 'Lissy, you'll
be fine! I mean, think about it. How many times have you had to stand up in a big court and
make some really long speech in front of loads of people, and if you get it wrong an innocent
man might go to jail?'
Lissy stares at me as though I'm crazy.
'Yes, but that's easy!'
'Well…' I cast around desperately. 'Well, if you pull out now, you'll always regret it. You'll
always look back and wish you'd gone through with it.'
There's silence. I can practically see Lissy's brain working underneath all the feathers and
stuff.
'You're right,' she says at last, and relinquishes her hold of the clothes. 'OK. I'll do it. But I
don't want you to watch. Just… meet me afterwards. No, don't even do that. Just stay away.
Stay right away.'
'OK,' I say hesitantly. 'I'll go if you really want me to-'
'No!' She swivels round. 'You can't go! I've changed my mind. I need you there!'
'OK,' I say, even more hesitantly, just as a Tannoy in the wall blares out 'This is your fifteen
minute call!'
'I'll go then,' I say. 'Let you warm up.'
'Emma.' Lissy grabs hold of my arm and fixes me with an intense gaze. She's holding me so
tight, she's hurting my flesh. 'Emma, if I ever say I want to do anything like this again, you
have to stop me. Whatever I say. Promise you'll stop me.'
'I promise,' I say hastily. 'I promise.'
Bloody hell. I have never seen Lissy like that before in my life. As I walk back out into the
courtyard, which is now swarming with even more well-dressed people, I'm thudding with
nerves myself. She didn't look capable of standing up, let alone dancing.
Please don't let her mess up. Please.
A horrible image comes to me of Lissy standing like a startled rabbit, unable to remember her
steps. And the audience just staring at her. The thought of it makes my stomach curdle.
OK. I am not going to let that happen. If anything goes wrong I'll cause a distraction. I'll
pretend to have a heart attack. Yes. I'll collapse on the floor, and everyone will look at me for
a few seconds, but the performance won't stop or anything because we're British, and by the
time everyone turns back to the stage again, Lissy will have remembered her steps.
And if they rush me to hospital or anything, I'll just say, 'I had these terrible chest pains!' Noone
will be able to prove that I didn't.
And even if they can prove it, with some special machine, I'll just say-
'Emma.'
'What?' I say absently. And then my heart stops.
Jack is standing ten feet away. He's dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and jersey, and he
stands out a mile amongst all the corporate suited lawyers. As his dark eyes meet mine I feel
all the old hurt rushing back into my chest.
Don't react, I tell myself quickly. Closure. New life.
'What are you doing here?' I ask, with a little I'm-not-actually-interested shrug.
'I found the flyer for this on your desk.' He lifts a piece of paper, not taking his eyes off mine.
'Emma, I really wanted to talk.'
I feel a sudden smarting inside. He thinks he can just pitch up and I'll drop everything to talk
to him? Well, maybe I'm busy. Maybe I've moved on. Did he think of that?
'Actually… I'm here with someone,' I say in polite, slightly pitying tones.
'Really?'
'Yes. I am. So…' I give a little shrug and wait for Jack to walk away. But he doesn't.
'Who?' he says.
OK, he wasn't supposed to ask who. For a moment I'm not entirely sure what to do.
'Er… him,' I say at last, and point at a tall guy in shirt-sleeves, who's standing in the corner of
the courtyard, facing away from us. 'In fact, I'd better join him.'
My head high, I swivel on my heel and start walking towards the shirt-sleeved guy. What I'll
do is just ask him the time, and somehow engage him in conversation until Jack's gone. (And
maybe laugh gaily once or twice to show what a good time we're having.)
I'm within a few feet of him, when the shirt-sleeved guy turns round, talking on a mobile.
'Hi!' I begin brightly, but he doesn't even hear me. He gives me ablank glance, then walks off,
still talking, into the crowd.
I'm left all alone in the corner.
Fuck.
After what seems like several eternities, I turn round, as nonchalantly as I can.
Jack is still standing there, watching.
I stare at him furiously, my whole body pulsing with embarrassment. If he laughs at me-
But he's not laughing.
'Emma…' He walks forward until he's only a couple of feet away, his face frank. 'What you
said. It stayed with me. I should have shared more with you. I shouldn't have shut you out.'
I feel a dart of surprise, followed by wounded pride. So he wants to share with me now, does
he? Well maybe it's too late. Maybe I'm not interested any more.
'You don't need to share anything with me. Your affairs are your affairs, Jack.' I give him a
distancing smile. 'They're nothing to do with me. And I probably wouldn't understand them,
anyway, bearing in mind they're so complicated and I'm such a total thickie…'
I swivel determinedly, and start to walk away, over the gravel.
'I owe you an explanation, at least,' Jack's dry voice follows me.
'You owe me nothing!' I lift my chin proudly. 'It's over, Jack. And we might as well both just
… Aargh! Let go!'
Jack has grabbed my arm, and now he pulls me round to face him.
'I came here tonight for a reason, Emma,' he says gravely. 'I came to tell you what I was doing
in Scotland.'
I feel the most almighty bound of shock, which I hide as best I can.
'I'm not interested in what you were doing in Scotland!' I manage. I wrench my arm away and
start striding away as best I can through the thicket of mobile-phone-gabbing lawyers.
'Emma, I want to tell you.' He's coming after me. 'I really want to tell you.'
'Well, maybe I don't want to know!' I reply defiantly, swivelling round on the gravel with a
scatter of pebbles.
We're facing each other like a pair of duellers. My ribcage is rising and falling quickly.
Of course I want to know.
He knows I want to know.
'Go on then,' I say at last, and give a grudging shrug. 'You can tell me if you like.'
In silence, Jack leads me over to a quiet spot, away from all the crowds. As we walk, my
bravado ebbs away. In fact, I'm a bit apprehensive. Scared, even.
Do I really want to know his secret, after all?
What if it's fraud, like Lissy said? What if he's doing something dodgy and he wants me to
join in?
What if he's had some really embarrassing operation and I start laughing by mistake?
What if it is another woman and he's come to tell me he's getting married or something?
I feel a tiny pang of pain, which I quell. Well, if it is… I'll just act cool, like I knew all along.
In fact I'll pretend I've got another lover, too. Yes. I'll give him a wry smile, and say, 'You
know, Jack, I never assumed we were exclusive-'
'OK.' Jack turns to face me, and I instantaneously decide that if he's committed a murder I will
turn him in, promise or no promise.
'Here it is.' He takes a deep breath. 'I was in Scotland to visit someone.'
My heart plummets.
'A woman,' I say before I can stop myself.
'No, not a woman!' His expression changes, and he stares at me. 'Is that what you thought?
That I was two-timing you?'
'I… didn't know what to think.'
'Emma, I do not have another woman. I was visiting…' He hesitates. 'You could call it…
family.'
My brain gives a huge swivel.
Family?
Oh my God, Jemima was right, I've got involved with a mobster.
OK. Don't panic. I can escape. I can go in the witness protection scheme. My new name can
be Megan.
No, Chloe. Chloe de Souza.
'To be more precise… a child.'
A child? My brain lurches again. He has a child?
'Her name is Alice.' He gives a tiny smile. 'She's four years old.'
He has a wife and a whole family I don't know about, and that's his secret. I knew it, I knew it.
'You…' I lick my dry lips. 'You have a child?'
'No, I don't have a child.' Jack stares at the ground for a few seconds, then looks up. 'Pete had
a child. He had a daughter. Alice is Pete Laidler's child.'
'But… but…' I stare at him in confusion. 'But… I never knew Pete Laidler had a child.'
'Nobody knows.' He gives me a long look. 'That's the whole idea.'
This is so completely and utterly not what I was expecting.
A child. Pete Laidler's secret child.
'But… but how can nobody know about her?' I say stupidly. We've moved even further away
from the crowds and are sitting on a bench under a tree. 'I mean surely they'd see her.'
'Pete was a great guy.' Jack sighs. 'But commitment was never his strong suit. By the time
Marie — that's Alice's mom — found out she was pregnant, they weren't even together any more.
Marie's one of those proud, defensive types. She was determined to do everything on her own.
Pete supported her financially — but he wasn't interested in the child. He didn't even tell
anybody he'd become a father.'
'Even you?' I stare at him. 'You didn't know he had a child?'
'Not until after he died.' His face closes up slightly. 'I loved Pete. But that, I find very hard to
forgive. So a few months after he died, Marie turns up with this baby.' Jack exhales sharply.
'Well. You can imagine how we all felt. Shocked is an understatement. But Marie was
positive she didn't want anyone to know. She wanted to bring Alice up just like a normal kid,
not as Pete Laidler's love child. Not as the heiress to some huge fortune.'
My mind is boggling. A four-year-old getting Pete Laidler's share of the Panther Corporation.
Bloody hell.
'So she gets everything?' I say hesitantly.
'Not everything, no. But a lot. Pete's family have been more than generous. And that's why
Marie's keeping her away from the public eye.' He spreads his hands. 'I know we can't shield
her for ever. It'll come out sooner or later. But when they find out about her, the press will go
nuts. She'll shoot to the top of the rich lists… the other kids will give her a hard time… she
won't be normal any more. Some kids could cope. But Alice… she's not one of them. She has
asthma, she's kind of frail.'
As he's speaking, my mind is filled with memories of the papers after Pete Laidler died. Every
single one had a picture of him on the front page.
'I'm overprotective of this child.' Jack gives a rueful smile. 'I know it. Even Marie tells me I
am. But… she's precious to me.' He stares ahead for a moment. 'She's all we've got left of
Pete.'
I gaze at him, suddenly feeling moved.
'So, is that what the phone calls were about?' I say tentatively. 'Is that why you had to leave
the other night?'
Jack sighs. 'They were both in a road accident a few days ago. It wasn't serious. But… we're
extra-sensitive, after Pete. We just wanted to make sure they got the right treatment.'
'Right,' I give a little wince. 'I can understand that.'
There's silence for a while. My brain is trying to slot all the pieces together. Trying to work it
all out.
'But I don't understand,' I say. 'Why did you make me keep it a secret that you'd been in
Scotland? Nobody would know, surely.'
Jack rolls his eyes ruefully.
'That was my own dumb stupid fault. I'd told some people I was going across to Paris that day,
just as an extra precaution. I took an anonymous flight. I thought no-one would ever know.
Then I walk into the office… and there you are.'
'Your heart sank.'
'Not exactly.' He meets my eyes. 'It didn't quite know which way to go.'
I feel a sudden colour coming to my cheeks and awkwardly clear my throat.
'So… er…' I say, looking away. 'So that's why…'
'All I wanted was to avoid you piping up, "Hey, he wasn't in Paris, he was in Scotland!" and
start some huge intrigue going.' Jack shakes his head. 'You'd be amazed at the ludicrous
theories people will put together when they don't have anything better to do. You know, I've
heard it all. I'm planning to sell the company… I'm gay… I'm in the Mafia…'
'Er… really?' I say, and smooth down a strand of hair. 'Gosh. How stupid of people!'
A couple of girls wander nearby, and we both fall silent for a while.
'Emma, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this before,' Jack says in a low voice. 'I know you were
hurt. I know it felt like I was shutting you out. But… it's just not something you share
lightly.'
'No!' I say immediately. 'Of course you couldn't have done. I was stupid.'
I scuff my toe awkwardly on the gravel, feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have known it
would be something important. When he said it was complicated and sensitive, he was just
telling the truth.
'Only a handful of people know about this.' Jack meets my eyes gravely. 'A handful of special,
trusted people.'
There's something in his gaze which makes my throat feel a bit tight. I stare back at him,
feeling blood rising in my cheeks.
'Are you going in?' comes a bright voice. We jump, and look up to see a woman in black jeans
approaching. 'The performance is about to start!' she says with a beam.
I feel like she's slapped me awake from a dream.
'I… I have to go and watch Lissy dancing,' I say dazedly.
'Right. Well, I'll leave you then. That was really all I had to say.' Slowly Jack gets to his feet,
then turns back. 'There's one more thing.' He looks at me for a few silent moments. 'Emma, I
realize these last few days can't have been easy for you. You have been the model of
discretion throughout, whereas I… have not. And I just wanted to apologize. Again.'
'That's… that's OK,' I manage.
Jack turns again, and I watch him walking slowly away over the gravel, feeling completely
torn.
He came all the way here to tell me his secret. His big, precious secret.
He didn't have to do that.
Oh God. Oh God…
'Wait!' I hear myself calling out, and Jack immediately turns. 'Would you… would you like
to come too?' And I feel a ripple of pleasure as his face creases into a smile.
As we crunch over the gravel together, I pluck up the courage to speak.
'Jack, I've got something to say too. About… about what you were just saying. I know I said
you ruined my life the other day.'
'I remember,' says Jack wryly.
'Well, I may possibly have been wrong about that.' I clear my throat awkwardly. 'In fact… I
was wrong.' I look at him frankly. 'Jack, you didn't ruin my life.'
'I didn't?' says Jack. 'Do I get another shot?'
In spite of myself, a giggle rises inside me.
'No!'
'No? Is that your final answer?'
As he looks at me there's a bigger question in his eyes, and I feel a little shaft, half hope, half
apprehension. For a long while neither of us says anything. I'm breathing rather fast.
Suddenly Jack's gaze falls with interest on my hand. 'I am over Jack,' he reads aloud.
Fuck.
My entire face flames with colour.
I am never writing anything on my hand again. Ever.
'That's just…' I clear my throat again. 'That was just a doodle… it didn't mean…'
courtyard, and when I arrive I find the entire place crammed with lawyers in expensive suits
using their mobile phones.
'… client unwilling to accept the terms of agreement…'
'… attention to clause four, comma, notwithstanding…'
No-one is making the slightest attempt to go into the auditorium yet, so I head backstage, to
give Lissy the bouquet I've bought for her. (I was originally planning to throw it onto the
stage at the end, but it's roses, and I'm a bit worried it might ladder her tights.)
As I walk down the shabby corridors, music is being piped through the sound system and
people keep brushing past me in glittery costumes. A man with blue feathers in his hair is
stretching his leg against the wall and talking to someone in a dressing room at the same time.
'So then I pointed out to that idiot of a prosecuting counsel that the precedent set in 1983 by
Miller v. Davy means…' He suddenly stops. 'Shit. I've forgotten my first steps.' His face
drains of colour. 'I can't remember a fucking thing. I'm not joking! I jete on — then what?' He
looks at me as though expecting me to supply him with an answer.
'Er… a pirouette?' I hazard, and awkwardly hurry on, nearly tripping over a girl doing the
splits. Then I catch sight of Lissy sitting on a stool in one of the dressing rooms. Her face is
heavily made up and her eyes are all huge and glittery, and she's got blue feathers in her hair
too.
'Oh my God, Lissy!' I say, halting in the doorway. 'You look amazing! I completely love
your-'
'I can't do it.'
'What?'
'I can't do it!' she repeats desperately, and pulls her cotton robe around her. 'I can't remember
anything. My mind is blank!'
'Everyone thinks that,' I say reassuringly. 'There was a guy outside saying exactly the same
thing-'
'No. I really can't remember anything.' Lissy stares at me with wild eyes. 'My legs feel like
cotton wool, I can't breathe…' She picks up a blusher brush, looks at it bleakly, then puts it
down. 'Why did I ever agree to do this? Why?'
'Er… because it would be fun?'
'Fun?' Her voice rises in disbelief. 'You think this is fun? Oh God.' Suddenly her face changes
expression, and she breaks off and rushes through an adjoining door. The next moment I can
hear her retching.
OK, there's something wrong here. I thought dancing was suppose to be good for your health.
She appears at the door again, pale and trembling, and I peer at her anxiously.
'Liss, are you all right?'
'I can't do it,' she says. 'I can't.' She seems to come to a sudden decision. 'OK, I'm going
home.' She starts reaching for her clothes. 'Tell them I was suddenly taken ill, it was an
emergency…'
'You can't go home!' I say in horror, and try to grab the clothes out of her hands. 'Lissy, you'll
be fine! I mean, think about it. How many times have you had to stand up in a big court and
make some really long speech in front of loads of people, and if you get it wrong an innocent
man might go to jail?'
Lissy stares at me as though I'm crazy.
'Yes, but that's easy!'
'Well…' I cast around desperately. 'Well, if you pull out now, you'll always regret it. You'll
always look back and wish you'd gone through with it.'
There's silence. I can practically see Lissy's brain working underneath all the feathers and
stuff.
'You're right,' she says at last, and relinquishes her hold of the clothes. 'OK. I'll do it. But I
don't want you to watch. Just… meet me afterwards. No, don't even do that. Just stay away.
Stay right away.'
'OK,' I say hesitantly. 'I'll go if you really want me to-'
'No!' She swivels round. 'You can't go! I've changed my mind. I need you there!'
'OK,' I say, even more hesitantly, just as a Tannoy in the wall blares out 'This is your fifteen
minute call!'
'I'll go then,' I say. 'Let you warm up.'
'Emma.' Lissy grabs hold of my arm and fixes me with an intense gaze. She's holding me so
tight, she's hurting my flesh. 'Emma, if I ever say I want to do anything like this again, you
have to stop me. Whatever I say. Promise you'll stop me.'
'I promise,' I say hastily. 'I promise.'
Bloody hell. I have never seen Lissy like that before in my life. As I walk back out into the
courtyard, which is now swarming with even more well-dressed people, I'm thudding with
nerves myself. She didn't look capable of standing up, let alone dancing.
Please don't let her mess up. Please.
A horrible image comes to me of Lissy standing like a startled rabbit, unable to remember her
steps. And the audience just staring at her. The thought of it makes my stomach curdle.
OK. I am not going to let that happen. If anything goes wrong I'll cause a distraction. I'll
pretend to have a heart attack. Yes. I'll collapse on the floor, and everyone will look at me for
a few seconds, but the performance won't stop or anything because we're British, and by the
time everyone turns back to the stage again, Lissy will have remembered her steps.
And if they rush me to hospital or anything, I'll just say, 'I had these terrible chest pains!' Noone
will be able to prove that I didn't.
And even if they can prove it, with some special machine, I'll just say-
'Emma.'
'What?' I say absently. And then my heart stops.
Jack is standing ten feet away. He's dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and jersey, and he
stands out a mile amongst all the corporate suited lawyers. As his dark eyes meet mine I feel
all the old hurt rushing back into my chest.
Don't react, I tell myself quickly. Closure. New life.
'What are you doing here?' I ask, with a little I'm-not-actually-interested shrug.
'I found the flyer for this on your desk.' He lifts a piece of paper, not taking his eyes off mine.
'Emma, I really wanted to talk.'
I feel a sudden smarting inside. He thinks he can just pitch up and I'll drop everything to talk
to him? Well, maybe I'm busy. Maybe I've moved on. Did he think of that?
'Actually… I'm here with someone,' I say in polite, slightly pitying tones.
'Really?'
'Yes. I am. So…' I give a little shrug and wait for Jack to walk away. But he doesn't.
'Who?' he says.
OK, he wasn't supposed to ask who. For a moment I'm not entirely sure what to do.
'Er… him,' I say at last, and point at a tall guy in shirt-sleeves, who's standing in the corner of
the courtyard, facing away from us. 'In fact, I'd better join him.'
My head high, I swivel on my heel and start walking towards the shirt-sleeved guy. What I'll
do is just ask him the time, and somehow engage him in conversation until Jack's gone. (And
maybe laugh gaily once or twice to show what a good time we're having.)
I'm within a few feet of him, when the shirt-sleeved guy turns round, talking on a mobile.
'Hi!' I begin brightly, but he doesn't even hear me. He gives me ablank glance, then walks off,
still talking, into the crowd.
I'm left all alone in the corner.
Fuck.
After what seems like several eternities, I turn round, as nonchalantly as I can.
Jack is still standing there, watching.
I stare at him furiously, my whole body pulsing with embarrassment. If he laughs at me-
But he's not laughing.
'Emma…' He walks forward until he's only a couple of feet away, his face frank. 'What you
said. It stayed with me. I should have shared more with you. I shouldn't have shut you out.'
I feel a dart of surprise, followed by wounded pride. So he wants to share with me now, does
he? Well maybe it's too late. Maybe I'm not interested any more.
'You don't need to share anything with me. Your affairs are your affairs, Jack.' I give him a
distancing smile. 'They're nothing to do with me. And I probably wouldn't understand them,
anyway, bearing in mind they're so complicated and I'm such a total thickie…'
I swivel determinedly, and start to walk away, over the gravel.
'I owe you an explanation, at least,' Jack's dry voice follows me.
'You owe me nothing!' I lift my chin proudly. 'It's over, Jack. And we might as well both just
… Aargh! Let go!'
Jack has grabbed my arm, and now he pulls me round to face him.
'I came here tonight for a reason, Emma,' he says gravely. 'I came to tell you what I was doing
in Scotland.'
I feel the most almighty bound of shock, which I hide as best I can.
'I'm not interested in what you were doing in Scotland!' I manage. I wrench my arm away and
start striding away as best I can through the thicket of mobile-phone-gabbing lawyers.
'Emma, I want to tell you.' He's coming after me. 'I really want to tell you.'
'Well, maybe I don't want to know!' I reply defiantly, swivelling round on the gravel with a
scatter of pebbles.
We're facing each other like a pair of duellers. My ribcage is rising and falling quickly.
Of course I want to know.
He knows I want to know.
'Go on then,' I say at last, and give a grudging shrug. 'You can tell me if you like.'
In silence, Jack leads me over to a quiet spot, away from all the crowds. As we walk, my
bravado ebbs away. In fact, I'm a bit apprehensive. Scared, even.
Do I really want to know his secret, after all?
What if it's fraud, like Lissy said? What if he's doing something dodgy and he wants me to
join in?
What if he's had some really embarrassing operation and I start laughing by mistake?
What if it is another woman and he's come to tell me he's getting married or something?
I feel a tiny pang of pain, which I quell. Well, if it is… I'll just act cool, like I knew all along.
In fact I'll pretend I've got another lover, too. Yes. I'll give him a wry smile, and say, 'You
know, Jack, I never assumed we were exclusive-'
'OK.' Jack turns to face me, and I instantaneously decide that if he's committed a murder I will
turn him in, promise or no promise.
'Here it is.' He takes a deep breath. 'I was in Scotland to visit someone.'
My heart plummets.
'A woman,' I say before I can stop myself.
'No, not a woman!' His expression changes, and he stares at me. 'Is that what you thought?
That I was two-timing you?'
'I… didn't know what to think.'
'Emma, I do not have another woman. I was visiting…' He hesitates. 'You could call it…
family.'
My brain gives a huge swivel.
Family?
Oh my God, Jemima was right, I've got involved with a mobster.
OK. Don't panic. I can escape. I can go in the witness protection scheme. My new name can
be Megan.
No, Chloe. Chloe de Souza.
'To be more precise… a child.'
A child? My brain lurches again. He has a child?
'Her name is Alice.' He gives a tiny smile. 'She's four years old.'
He has a wife and a whole family I don't know about, and that's his secret. I knew it, I knew it.
'You…' I lick my dry lips. 'You have a child?'
'No, I don't have a child.' Jack stares at the ground for a few seconds, then looks up. 'Pete had
a child. He had a daughter. Alice is Pete Laidler's child.'
'But… but…' I stare at him in confusion. 'But… I never knew Pete Laidler had a child.'
'Nobody knows.' He gives me a long look. 'That's the whole idea.'
This is so completely and utterly not what I was expecting.
A child. Pete Laidler's secret child.
'But… but how can nobody know about her?' I say stupidly. We've moved even further away
from the crowds and are sitting on a bench under a tree. 'I mean surely they'd see her.'
'Pete was a great guy.' Jack sighs. 'But commitment was never his strong suit. By the time
Marie — that's Alice's mom — found out she was pregnant, they weren't even together any more.
Marie's one of those proud, defensive types. She was determined to do everything on her own.
Pete supported her financially — but he wasn't interested in the child. He didn't even tell
anybody he'd become a father.'
'Even you?' I stare at him. 'You didn't know he had a child?'
'Not until after he died.' His face closes up slightly. 'I loved Pete. But that, I find very hard to
forgive. So a few months after he died, Marie turns up with this baby.' Jack exhales sharply.
'Well. You can imagine how we all felt. Shocked is an understatement. But Marie was
positive she didn't want anyone to know. She wanted to bring Alice up just like a normal kid,
not as Pete Laidler's love child. Not as the heiress to some huge fortune.'
My mind is boggling. A four-year-old getting Pete Laidler's share of the Panther Corporation.
Bloody hell.
'So she gets everything?' I say hesitantly.
'Not everything, no. But a lot. Pete's family have been more than generous. And that's why
Marie's keeping her away from the public eye.' He spreads his hands. 'I know we can't shield
her for ever. It'll come out sooner or later. But when they find out about her, the press will go
nuts. She'll shoot to the top of the rich lists… the other kids will give her a hard time… she
won't be normal any more. Some kids could cope. But Alice… she's not one of them. She has
asthma, she's kind of frail.'
As he's speaking, my mind is filled with memories of the papers after Pete Laidler died. Every
single one had a picture of him on the front page.
'I'm overprotective of this child.' Jack gives a rueful smile. 'I know it. Even Marie tells me I
am. But… she's precious to me.' He stares ahead for a moment. 'She's all we've got left of
Pete.'
I gaze at him, suddenly feeling moved.
'So, is that what the phone calls were about?' I say tentatively. 'Is that why you had to leave
the other night?'
Jack sighs. 'They were both in a road accident a few days ago. It wasn't serious. But… we're
extra-sensitive, after Pete. We just wanted to make sure they got the right treatment.'
'Right,' I give a little wince. 'I can understand that.'
There's silence for a while. My brain is trying to slot all the pieces together. Trying to work it
all out.
'But I don't understand,' I say. 'Why did you make me keep it a secret that you'd been in
Scotland? Nobody would know, surely.'
Jack rolls his eyes ruefully.
'That was my own dumb stupid fault. I'd told some people I was going across to Paris that day,
just as an extra precaution. I took an anonymous flight. I thought no-one would ever know.
Then I walk into the office… and there you are.'
'Your heart sank.'
'Not exactly.' He meets my eyes. 'It didn't quite know which way to go.'
I feel a sudden colour coming to my cheeks and awkwardly clear my throat.
'So… er…' I say, looking away. 'So that's why…'
'All I wanted was to avoid you piping up, "Hey, he wasn't in Paris, he was in Scotland!" and
start some huge intrigue going.' Jack shakes his head. 'You'd be amazed at the ludicrous
theories people will put together when they don't have anything better to do. You know, I've
heard it all. I'm planning to sell the company… I'm gay… I'm in the Mafia…'
'Er… really?' I say, and smooth down a strand of hair. 'Gosh. How stupid of people!'
A couple of girls wander nearby, and we both fall silent for a while.
'Emma, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this before,' Jack says in a low voice. 'I know you were
hurt. I know it felt like I was shutting you out. But… it's just not something you share
lightly.'
'No!' I say immediately. 'Of course you couldn't have done. I was stupid.'
I scuff my toe awkwardly on the gravel, feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have known it
would be something important. When he said it was complicated and sensitive, he was just
telling the truth.
'Only a handful of people know about this.' Jack meets my eyes gravely. 'A handful of special,
trusted people.'
There's something in his gaze which makes my throat feel a bit tight. I stare back at him,
feeling blood rising in my cheeks.
'Are you going in?' comes a bright voice. We jump, and look up to see a woman in black jeans
approaching. 'The performance is about to start!' she says with a beam.
I feel like she's slapped me awake from a dream.
'I… I have to go and watch Lissy dancing,' I say dazedly.
'Right. Well, I'll leave you then. That was really all I had to say.' Slowly Jack gets to his feet,
then turns back. 'There's one more thing.' He looks at me for a few silent moments. 'Emma, I
realize these last few days can't have been easy for you. You have been the model of
discretion throughout, whereas I… have not. And I just wanted to apologize. Again.'
'That's… that's OK,' I manage.
Jack turns again, and I watch him walking slowly away over the gravel, feeling completely
torn.
He came all the way here to tell me his secret. His big, precious secret.
He didn't have to do that.
Oh God. Oh God…
'Wait!' I hear myself calling out, and Jack immediately turns. 'Would you… would you like
to come too?' And I feel a ripple of pleasure as his face creases into a smile.
As we crunch over the gravel together, I pluck up the courage to speak.
'Jack, I've got something to say too. About… about what you were just saying. I know I said
you ruined my life the other day.'
'I remember,' says Jack wryly.
'Well, I may possibly have been wrong about that.' I clear my throat awkwardly. 'In fact… I
was wrong.' I look at him frankly. 'Jack, you didn't ruin my life.'
'I didn't?' says Jack. 'Do I get another shot?'
In spite of myself, a giggle rises inside me.
'No!'
'No? Is that your final answer?'
As he looks at me there's a bigger question in his eyes, and I feel a little shaft, half hope, half
apprehension. For a long while neither of us says anything. I'm breathing rather fast.
Suddenly Jack's gaze falls with interest on my hand. 'I am over Jack,' he reads aloud.
Fuck.
My entire face flames with colour.
I am never writing anything on my hand again. Ever.
'That's just…' I clear my throat again. 'That was just a doodle… it didn't mean…'