accept a glass of wine.
   'So, is Connor here?' asks Mum, decanting chicken drumsticks onto a plate.
   'Ssh! Don't Mention Connor!' says Dad in his Basil Fawlty voice.
   'I thought you were supposed to be moving in with him,' says Kerry, taking a swig of
   champagne. 'What happened there?'
   'She made him breakfast,' quips Nev, and Kerry giggles.
   I try to smile, but my face won't quite do it. It's ten past one. Jack will be waiting. What can I
   do?
   As Dad passes me a plate, I see Sven passing by.
   'Sven,' I say quickly. 'Um, Mr Harper was kindly asking earlier on about my family. And
   whether they were here or not. Could you possibly tell him that they've… they've
   unexpectedly turned up?' I look up at him desperately and his face flickers in comprehension.
   'I'll pass on the message,' he says.
   And that's the end of that.

SEVENTEEN

   I once read an article called 'Make Things Go Your Way' which said if a day doesn't turn out
   as you intended, you should go back, charting the differences between your Goals and your
   Results, and this will help you learn from your mistakes.
   OK. Let's just chart exactly how much this day has diverged from the original plan I had this
   morning.
   Goal: Look like sexy and sophisticated woman in beautiful, flattering dress.
   Result: Look like Heidi/Munchkin extra in lurid puffy nylon sleeves.
   Goal: Make secret assignation with Jack.
   Result: Make secret assignation with Jack then fail to turn up.
   Goal: Have fantastic sex with Jack in romantic location.
   Result: Have peanut-barbecued chicken drumstick on picnic rug.
   Overall Goal: Euphoria.
   Overall Result: Complete misery.
   All I can do is stare dumbly down at my plate, telling myself this can't last for ever. Dad and
   Nev have made about a million jokes about Don't Mention Connor. Kerry has shown me her
   new Swiss watch which cost ?4,000 and boasted about how her company is expanding yet
   again. And now she's telling us how she played golf with the chief executive of British
   Airways last week and he tried to head-hunt her.
   'They all try it on,' she says, taking a huge bite of chicken drumstick. 'But I say to them, if I
   needed a job…' She tails off. 'Did you want something?'
   'Hi there,' comes a dry, familiar voice from above my head.
   Very slowly I raise my head, blinking in the light.
   It's Jack. Standing there against the blue sky in his cowboy outfit. He gives me a tiny, almost
   imperceptible smile, and I feel my heart lift. He's come to get me. I should have known he
   would.
   'Hi!' I say, half-dazedly. 'Everyone, this is-'
   'My name's Jack,' he cuts across me pleasantly. 'I'm a friend of Emma's. Emma…' He looks at
   me, his face deliberately blank. 'I'm afraid you're needed.'
   'Oh dear!' I say with a whoosh of relief. 'Oh well, never mind, these things happen.'
   'That's a shame!' says Mum. 'Can't you at least stay for a quick drink? Jack, you're welcome to
   join us, have a chicken drumstick or some quiche.'
   'We have to go,' I say hurriedly. 'Don't we, Jack?'
   'I'm afraid we do,' he says, and holds out a hand to pull me up.
   'Sorry, everyone,' I say.
   'We don't mind!' says Kerry with the same sarky laugh. 'I'm sure you've some vital job to do,
   Emma. In fact, I expect the whole event would collapse without you!'
   Jack stops. Very slowly, he turns round.
   'Let me guess,' he says pleasantly. 'You must be Kerry.'
   'Yes!' she says in surprise. 'That's right.'
   'And Mum… Dad…' He surveys the faces. 'And you have to be… Nev?'
   'Spot on!' says Nev with a chortle.
   'Very good!' says Mum with a laugh. 'Emma must have told you a bit about us.'
   'Oh… she has,' agrees Jack, looking around the picnic rug again with a kind of odd
   fascination on his face. 'You know, there might be time for that drink after all.'
   What? What did he say?
   'Good,' says Mum. 'It's always nice to meet friends of Emma's!'
   I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be
   rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.
   'So, you work for this company, Jack?' says Dad, pouring him a glass of wine.
   'In a way,' says Jack after a pause. 'You could say… I used to.'
   'Are you between jobs?' says Mum tactfully.
   'You could put it like that, I guess.' His face crinkles in a little smile'.
   'Oh dear!' says Mum sympathetically. 'What a shame. Still, I'm sure something will come up.'
   Oh God. She has absolutely no idea who he is. None of my family has any idea who Jack is.
   I'm really not at all sure I like this.
   'I saw Danny Nussbaum the other day in the post office, Emma,' adds Mum, briskly slicing
   some tomatoes. 'He asked after you.'
   Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jack's eyes brightening.
   'Gosh!' I say, my cheeks growing hot. 'Danny Nussbaum! I haven't thought about him for
   ages.'
   'Danny and Emma used to step out together,' Mum explains to Jack with a fond smile. 'Such a
   nice boy. Very bookish. He and Emma used to study together in her bedroom, all afternoon.'
   I cannot look at Jack. I cannot.
   'You know… Ben Hur's a fine film,' Jack suddenly says in thoughtful tones. 'A very fine
   film.' He smiles at Mum. 'Don't you think?'
   I am going to kill him.
   'Er… yes!' says Mum, a bit confused. 'Yes, I've always liked Ben Hur.' She cuts Jack a huge
   chunk of quiche and adds a slice of tomato. 'So, Jack,' she says sympathetically as she hands
   him a paper plate. 'Are you getting by financially?'
   'I'm doing OK,' Jack replies gravely.
   Mum looks at him for a moment. Then she rummages in the picnic basket and produces
   another Sainsbury's quiche, still in its box.
   'Take this,' she says, pressing it on him. 'And some tomatoes. They'll tide you over.'
   'Oh no,' says Jack at once. 'Really, I couldn't-'
   'I won't take no for an answer. I insist!'
   'Well, that's truly kind.' Jack gives her a warm smile.
   'You want some free career advice, Jack?' says Kerry, munching a piece of chicken.
   My heart gives a nervous flip. Please, please don't try to get Jack to do the successful woman
   walk.
   'Now, you want to listen to Kerry,' puts in Dad proudly. 'She's our star! She has her own
   company.'
   'Is that so?' says Jack politely.
   'My own travel agency,' says Kerry with a complacent smile. 'Started from scratch. Now we
   have forty staff and a turnover of just over two million. And you know what my secret is?'
   'I… have no idea,' says Jack.
   Kerry leans forward and fixes him with her blue eyes.
   'Golf.'
   'Golf!' echoes Jack.
   'Business is all about networking,' says Kerry. 'It's all about contacts. I'm telling you, Jack,
   I've met most of the top businesspeople in the country on the golf course. Take any company.
   Take this company.' She spreads her arm around the scene. 'I know the top guy here. I could
   call him up tomorrow if I wanted to.'
   I stare at her, frozen in horror.
   'Really?' says Jack, sounding riveted. 'Is that so?'
   'Oh yes.' She leans forward confidentially. 'And I mean, the top guy.'
   'The top guy,' echoes Jack. 'I'm impressed.'
   'Perhaps Kerry could put in a good word for you, Jack!' exclaims Mum in sudden inspiration.
   'You'd do that, wouldn't you, Kerry love?'
   I would burst into hysterical laughter. If it wasn't so completely and utterly hideous.
   'I guess I'll have to take up golf without delay,' says Jack. 'Meet the right people.' He raises his
   eyebrows at me. 'What do you think, Emma?'
   I can barely talk. I am beyond embarrassment. I just want to disappear into the rug and never
   be seen again.
   'Mr Harper?' A voice interrupts and I breathe in relief. We all look up to see Cyril bending
   awkwardly down to Jack.
   'I'm extremely sorry to interrupt, sir,' he says, glancing puzzledly around at my family as
   though trying to discern any reason at all why Jack Harper might be having a picnic with us.
   'But Malcolm St John is here and would like a very brief word.'
   'Of course,' says Jack, and smiles politely at Mum. 'If you could just excuse me a moment.'
   As he carefully balances his glass on his plate and gets to his feet, the whole family exchanges
   confused glances.
   'Giving him a second chance, then!' calls out Dad jocularly to Cyril.
   'I'm sorry?' says Cyril, taking a couple of steps towards us.
   'That chap Jack,' says Dad, gesturing to Jack, who's talking to a guy dressed in a navy blazer.
   'You're thinking of taking him on again, are you?'
   Cyril looks stiffly from Dad to me and back again.
   'It's OK, Cyril!' I call lightly. 'Dad, shut up, OK?' I mutter. 'He owns the company.'
   'What?' Everyone stares at me.
   'He owns the company,' I say, my face hot. 'So just… don't make any jokes about him.'
   'The man in the jester's suit owns the company?' says Mum, looking in surprise at Cyril.
   'No! Jack does! Or at least, some great big chunk of it.' They're all still looking completely
   blank. 'Jack's one of the founders of the Panther Corporation!' I hiss in frustration. 'He was
   just trying to be modest.'
   'Are you saying that guy is Jack Harper?' says Nev in disbelief.
   'Yes!'
   There's a flabbergasted silence. As I look around, I see that a piece of chicken drumstick has
   fallen out of Kerry's mouth.
   'Jack Harper — the multimillionaire,' says Dad, just to make sure.
   'Multimillionaire?' Mum looks totally confused. 'So… does he still want the quiche?'
   'Of course he doesn't want the quiche!' says Dad testily. 'What would he want a quiche for?
   He can buy a million bloody quiches!'
   Mum's eye starts flicking around the picnic rug in slight agitation.
   'Quick!' she says suddenly. 'Put the crisps into a bowl. There's one in the hamper-'
   'They're fine as they are…' I begin helplessly.
   'Millionaires don't eat crisps from the packet!' she hisses. She plops the crisps in a plastic
   bowl and hastily starts straightening the rug. 'Brian! Crumbs on your beard!'
   'So how the hell do you know Jack Harper?' says Nev.
   'I… I just know him,' I colour slightly. 'We've worked together and stuff, and he's kind of
   become a… a friend. But listen, don't act any differently,' I say quickly, as Jack shakes the
   hand of the blazer guy, and starts coming back towards the picnic rug. 'Just act the way you
   were before…'
   Oh God. Why am I even bothering? As Jack approaches, my entire family is sitting bolt
   upright, staring at him in awe-struck silence.
   'Hi!' I say, as naturally as possible, then quickly glare around at them.
   'So… Jack!' says Dad self-consciously. 'Have another drink! Is this wine all right for you?
   Because we can easily nip to the wine shop, get something with a proper vintage.'
   'It's great, thanks,' says Jack, looking a little baffled.
   'Jack, what else can I get you to eat?' says Mum, flustered. 'I've got some gourmet salmon
   rolls somewhere. Emma, give Jack your plate!' she snaps. 'He can't eat off paper.'
   'So… Jack,' says Nev in a matey voice. 'What does a guy like you drive, then? No, don't tell
   me.' He lifts his hand. 'A Porsche. Am I right?'
   Jack meets my eye with a quizzical expression, and I stare back him beseechingly, trying to
   convey to him that I had no choice, that I'm really sorry, that basically I want to die…
   'I take it my cover's been blown,' he says with a grin.
   'Jack!' exclaims Kerry, who has regained her composure. She gives him an ingratiating smile
   and thrusts out her hand. 'Good to meet you properly.'
   'Absolutely!' says Jack. 'Although… didn't we just meet?'
   'As professionals,' says Kerry smoothly. 'One business-owner to another. Here's my card, and
   if you ever need any help with travel arrangements of any sort, please give me a call. Or if
   you wanted to meet up socially… perhaps the four of us could go out some time! Play a
   round? Couldn't we, Emma?'
   I stare at her blankly. Since when have Kerry and I ever socialized together?
   'Emma and I are practically sisters, of course,' she adds sweetly, putting her arm round me.
   'I'm sure she's told you.'
   'Oh, she told me a few things,' says Jack, his expression unreadable. He takes a bite of roast
   chicken and starts to chew it.
   'We grew up together, we shared everything.' Kerry gives me a squeeze and I try to smile, but
   her perfume is nearly choking me.
   'Isn't that nice!' says Mum in pleasure. 'I wish I had a camera.'
   Jack doesn't reply. He's just giving Kerry this long, appraising look.
   'We couldn't be closer!' Kerry's smile grows even more ingratiating. She's squeezing me so
   hard, her talons are digging into my flesh. 'Could we, Ems?'
   'Er, no,' I say at last. 'No, we couldn't.'
   Jack's still chewing his chicken. He swallows it, then looks up.
   'So, I guess that must have been a pretty tough decision for you when you had to turn Emma
   down,' he says conversationally to Kerry. 'You two being so close, and all.'
   'Turn her down?' Kerry gives a tinkling laugh. 'I don't know what on earth you-'
   'That time she applied for work experience in your firm and you turned her down,' says Jack
   pleasantly, and takes another bite of chicken.
   I can't quite move.
   That was a secret. That was supposed to be a secret.
   'What?' says Dad, half laughing. 'Emma applied to Kerry?'
   'I… I don't know what you're talking about!' says Kerry, going a little pink.
   'I think I have this right,' says Jack, chewing. 'She offered to work for no money… but you
   still said no.' He looks perplexed for a moment. 'Interesting decision.'
   Very slowly, Mum and Dad's expressions are changing.
   'But of course, fortunate for us here at the Panther Corporation,' Jack adds cheerfully. 'We're
   very glad Emma didn't make a career in the travel industry. So I guess I have to thank you,
   Kerry! As one business-owner to another.' He smiles at her. 'You did us a big favour.'
   Kerry is completely puce.
   'Kerry, is this true?' says Mum sharply. 'You wouldn't help Emma when she asked?'
   'You never told us about this, Emma.' Dad looks completely taken aback.
   'I was embarrassed, OK?' I say, my voice jumping a bit.
   'Bit cheeky of Emma to ask,' says Nev, taking a huge bite of pork pie. 'Using family
   connections. That's what you said, wasn't it, Kerry?'
   'Cheeky?' echoes Mum in disbelief. 'Kerry, if you remember, we lent you the money to start
   that company. You wouldn't have a company without this family.'
   'It wasn't like that,' says Kerry, darting an annoyed look at Nev. 'There's been a… a crossed
   wire. Some confusion!' She pats her hair, and gives me another smile. 'Obviously I'd be
   delighted to help you with your career, Ems. You should have said before! Just call me at the
   office, I'll do anything I can…'
   I gaze back at her, full of loathing. I cannot believe she is trying to wriggle out of this. She is
   the most two-faced cow in the entire world.
   'There's no crossed wire, Kerry,' I say, as calmly as I can. 'We both know exactly what
   happened. I asked you for help and you wouldn't give it to me. And fine, it's your company
   and it was your decision and you had every right to make it. But don't try and say it didn't
   happen, because it did.'
   'Emma!' says Kerry, with a little laugh, and tries to reach for my hand. 'Silly girl! I had no
   idea! If I'd known it was important…'
   If she'd known it was important? How could she not know it was important?
   I jerk my hand away and stare back at Kerry. I can feel all the old hurt and humiliation
   building up inside me, rising up like hot water inside a pipe, until suddenly the pressure is
   unbearable.
   'Yes you did!' I hear myself crying. 'You knew exactly what you were doing! You knew how
   desperate I was! Ever since you've arrived in this family you've tried to squash me down. You
   tease me about my crap career. You boast about yourself. I spend my entire life feeling small
   and stupid. Well, fine. You win, Kerry! You're the star and I'm not. You're the success and I'm
   the failure. But just don't pretend to be my best friend, OK? Because you're not, and you never
   will be!'
   I finish, and look around the gobsmacked picnic rug, breathing hard. I have a horrible feeling
   I might burst into tears, any moment.
   I meet Jack's eye and he gives me a tiny, way-to-go smile. Then I risk a brief glance at Mum
   and Dad. They're both looking paralysed, as if they don't know what on earth to do.
   The thing is, our family just doesn't do loud, emotional outbursts.
   In fact, I'm not entirely sure what to do next myself.
   'So, um… I'll be going, then,' I say, my voice shaking. 'I'll be off. Come on, Jack. We've got
   work to do.'
   With wobbly legs, I turn on my heel and head off, stumbling slightly on the grass. Adrenalin
   is pumping round my body. I'm so wound up, I barely know what I'm doing.
   'That was fantastic, Emma,' comes Jack's voice in my ear. 'You were great! Absolutely…
   logistical assessment,' he adds more loudly as we pass Cyril.
   'I've never spoken like that in my life,' I say. 'I've never… operational management,' I quickly
   add, as we pass a couple of people from Accounts.
   'I guessed as much,' he says, shaking his head. 'Jesus, that cousin of yours… valid assessment
   of the market.'
   'She's a total — spreadsheet,' I say quickly as we pass Connor. 'So… I'll get that typed up for
   you, Mr Harper.'
   Somehow we make it into the house and up the stairs. Jack leads me along a corridor,
   produces a key and opens a door. And we're in a room. A large, light, cream-coloured room.
   With a big double bed in it. The door closes, and suddenly all my nerves flood back. This is it.
   Finally this is it. Jack and me. Alone in a room. With a bed.
   Then I catch sight of myself in a gilded mirror, and gasp in dismay. I'd forgotten I was in the
   stupid Snow White costume. My face is red and blotchy, my eyes are welling up, hair is all
   over the place, and my bra strap is showing.
   This is so not how I thought I was looking.
   'Emma, I'm really sorry I waded in there.' Jack's looking at me ruefully. 'I was way out of line.
   I had no right to butt in like that. I just… that cousin of yours got under my skin-'
   'No!' I interrupt, turning to face him. 'It was good! I've never told Kerry what I thought of her
   before. Ever! It was… it was…' I tail off, breathing hard.
   For a still moment there's silence. Jack's gazing at my flushed face. I'm staring back, my
   ribcage rising and falling, blood beating in my ears. Then suddenly he bends forward and
   kisses me.
   His mouth is opening mine, and he's already tugging the elastic sleeves of my Snow White
   costume down off my shoulders, unhooking my bra. I'm fumbling for his shirt buttons. His
   mouth reaches my nipple and I'm starting to gasp with excitement when he pulls me down
   onto the sun-warmed carpet.
   Oh my God, this is quick. He's ripping off my knickers. His hands are… his fingers are…
   I'm panting helplessly… We're going so fast I can barely register what's happening. This is
   nothing like Connor. This is nothing like I've ever — A minute ago I was standing at the door,
   fully clothed, and now I'm already — he's already -
   'Wait,' I manage to say. 'Wait, Jack. I just need to tell you something.'
   'What?' Jack looks at me with urgent, aroused eyes. 'What is it?'
   'I don't know any tricks,' I whisper, a little gruffly.
   'You don't what?' He pulls away slightly and stares at me.
   'Tricks! I don't know any tricks,' I say defensively. 'You know, you've probably had sex with
   zillions of supermodels and gymnasts and they know all sorts of amazing…' I tail off at his
   expression. 'Nevermind,' I say quickly. 'It doesn't matter. Forget it.'
   'I'm intrigued,' says Jack. 'Which particular tricks did you have in mind?'
   Why did I ever open my stupid mouth? Why?
   'I didn't!' I say, growing hot. 'That's the whole point, I don't know any tricks.'
   'Neither do I,' says Jack, totally deadpan. 'I don't know one trick.'
   I feel a sudden giggle rise inside me.
   'Yeah, right.'
   'It's true. Not one.' He pauses thoughtfully, running a finger around my shoulder. 'Oh, OK,
   Maybe one.'
   'What?' I say at once.
   'Well…' He looks at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. 'No.'
   'Tell me!' And now I can't help giggling out loud.
   'Show, not tell,' he murmurs against my ear, and pulls me towards him. 'Did nobody ever
   teach you that?'

EIGHTEEN

   I'm in love.
   I, Emma Corrigan, am in love.
   For the first time ever in my entire life, I'm totally, one hundred per cent in love! I spent all
   night with Jack at the Panther mansion. I woke up in his arms. We had sex about ninety-five
   times and it was just… perfect. (And somehow tricks didn't even seem to come into it. Which
   was a bit of a relief.)
   But it's not just the sex. It's everything. It's the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I
   woke up. It's the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet
   horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits
   about me which I normally try and hide from any man for as long as possible… and he loves
   me anyway.
   So he didn't exactly say he loved me. But he said something even better. I still keep rolling it
   blissfully round my head. We were lying there this morning, both just kind of staring up at the
   ceiling, when all at once I said, without quite intending to, 'Jack, how come you remembered
   about Kerry turning me down for work experience?'
   'What?'
   'How come you remembered about Kerry turning me down?' I swivelled my head slowly to
   look at him. 'And not just that. Every single thing I told you on that plane. Every little detail.
   About work, about my family, about Connor… everything. You remember it all. And I just
   don't get it.'
   'What don't you get?' said Jack with a frown.
   'I don't get why someone like you would be interested in my stupid, boring little life,' I said,
   my cheeks prickling with embarrassment.
   Jack looked at me silently for a moment.
   'Emma, your life is not stupid and boring.'
   'It is!'
   'It's not.'
   'Of course it is! I never do anything exciting, I never do anything clever, I haven't got my own
   company, or invented anything-'
   'You want to know why I remember all your secrets?' interrupted Jack. 'Emma, the minute
   you started talking on that plane — I was gripped.'
   I stared at him in disbelief.
   'You were gripped?' I said, to make sure. 'By me?'
   'I was gripped,' he repeated gently, and he leant over and kissed me.
   Gripped!
   Jack Harper was gripped by my life! By me!
   And the point is, if I'd never spoken to him on that plane — and if I'd never blurted out all that
   stuff — then this would never have happened. We would never have found each other. It was
   fate. I was meant to get on that plane. I was meant to get upgraded. I was meant to spill my
   secrets.
   As I arrive home, I'm glowing all over. A lightbulb has switched on inside me. Suddenly I
   know what the meaning of life is. Jemima is wrong. Men and women aren't enemies. Men and
   women are soulmates. And if they were just honest, right from the word go, then they'd all
   realize it. All this being mysterious and aloof is complete rubbish. Everyone should share
   their secrets straight away!
   I'm so inspired, I think I'm going to write a book on relationships. It will be called 'Don't Be
   Scared To Share', and it will show that men and women should be honest with each other and
   they'll communicate better, and understand each other, and never have to pretend about
   anything, ever again. And it could apply to families, too. And politics! Maybe if world leaders
   all told each other a few personal secrets, then there wouldn't be any more wars! I think I'm
   really on to something.
   I float up the stairs and unlock the door of our flat.
   'Lissy!' I call. 'Lissy, I'm in love!'
   There isn't any reply, and I feel a twinge of disappointment. I wanted someone to talk to. I
   wanted someone to tell all about my brilliant new theory of life and-
   I hear a thumping sound from her room, and stand completely still in the hallway, transfixed.
   Oh my God. The mysterious thumping sounds. There's another one. Then two more. What on
   earth-
   And then I see it, through the door of the sitting room. On the floor, next to the sofa. A
   briefcase. A black leather briefcase. It's him. It's Jean-Paul. He's in there. Right this minute! I
   take a few steps forward and stare at her door, intrigued.
   What are they doing?
   I just don't believe her story that they're having sex. But what else could it be? What else
   could it possibly-
   OK… Just stop. It's none of my business. If Lissy doesn't want to tell me what she's up to,
   she doesn't want to tell me. Feeling very mature, I walk into the kitchen and pick up the kettle
   to make myself a cup of coffee.
   Then I put it down again. Why doesn't she want to tell me? Why does she have a secret from
   me? We're best friends! I mean it was she who said we shouldn't have any secrets.
   I can't stand this. Curiosity is niggling at me like a burr. It's unbearable. And this could be my
   only chance to find out the truth. But how? I can't just walk in there. Can I?
   All of a sudden, a little thought occurs to me. Suppose I hadn't seen the briefcase? Suppose I'd
   just walked into the flat perfectly innocently, like I normally do, and happened to go straight
   to Lissy's door and happened to open it? Nobody could blame me then, could they? It would
   just be an honest mistake.
   I come out of the kitchen, listen intently for a moment, then quickly tiptoe back towards the
   front door.
   Start again. I'm walking into the flat for the first time.
   'Hi, Lissy!' I call self-consciously, as though a camera's trained'on me. 'Gosh! I wonder where
   she is. Maybe I'll… um… try her bedroom!'
   I walk down the corridor, attempting a natural stride, arrive at her door and give the tiniest of
   knocks.
   There's no response from inside. The thumping noises have died down. I stare at the blank
   wood, feeling a sudden apprehension.
   Am I really going to do this?
   Yes, I am. I just have to know.
   I grasp the handle, open the door — and give a scream of terror.
   The image is so startling, I can't make sense of it. Lissy's naked. They're both naked. She and
   the guy are tangled together in the strangest position I've ever, ever… her legs are up in the
   air, and his are twisted round her, and they're both scarlet in the face and panting.
   'I'm sorry!' I stutter. 'God, I'm sorry!'
   'Emma, wait!' I hear Lissy shout as I scuttle away to my room, slam the door and sink onto
   my bed.
   My heart is pounding. I almost feel sick. I've never been so shocked in my entire life. I should
   never have opened that door. I should never have opened that door.
   She was telling the truth! They were having sex! But I mean, what kind of weird, contorted
   sex was that? Bloody hell. I never realized. I never-
   I feel a hand on my shoulder, and give a fresh scream.
   'Emma, calm down!' says Lissy. 'It's me! Jean-Paul's gone.'
   I can't look up. I can't meet her eye.
   'Lissy, I'm sorry,' I gabble, staring at the floor. 'I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that. I should
   never have… your sex life is your own affair.'
   'Emma, we weren't having sex, you dope!'
   'You were! I saw you! You didn't have any clothes on.'
   'We did have clothes on. Emma, look at me!'
   'No!' I say in panic. 'I don't want to look at you!'
   'Look at me!'
   Apprehensively, I raise my head, and gradually my eyes focus on Lissy, standing in front of
   me.
   Oh. Oh… right. She's wearing a flesh-coloured leotard.
   'Well what were you doing if you weren't having sex?' I say, almost accusingly. 'And why are
   you wearing that?'
   'We were dancing,' says Lissy, looking embarrassed.
   'What?' I stare at her in utter bewilderment.
   'We were dancing, OK? That's what we were doing!'
   'Dancing? But… why were you dancing?'
   This makes no sense at all. Lissy and a French guy called Jean-Paul dancing in her bedroom?
   I feel like I've landed in the middle of some weird dream.
   'I've joined this group,' says Lissy after a pause.
   'Oh my God. Not a cult-'
   'No, not a cult. It's just…' She bites her lip. 'It's some lawyers who've got together and formed
   a… a dance group.'
   A dance group?
   For a few moments I can't quite speak. Now that my shock's died down, I have this horrible
   feeling that I might possibly be about to laugh.
   'You've joined a group of… dancing lawyers.'
   'Yes.' Lissy nods.
   An image pops into my head of a bunch of portly barristers dancing around in their wigs and I
   can't help it, I give a snort of laughter.
   'You see!' cries Lissy. 'That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd laugh!'
   'I'm sorry!' I say. 'I'm sorry! I'm not laughing. I think it's really great!' Another hysterical
   giggle bursts from me. 'It's just… I don't know. Somehow the idea of dancing lawyers…'
   'We're not all lawyers,' she says defensively. There are a couple of merchant bankers, too, and
   a judge… Emma, stop laughing!'
   'I'm sorry,' I say helplessly. 'Lissy, I'm not laughing at you, honestly.' I take a deep breath and
   try desperately to clamp my lips together. But all I can see is merchant bankers dressed in
   tutus, clutching their briefcases, dancing to Swan Lake. A judge leaping across the stage,
   robes flying.
   'It's not funny!' Lissy's saying. 'It's just a few like-minded professionals who want to express
   themselves through dance. What's wrong with that?'
   'I'm sorry,' I say again, wiping my eyes and trying to regain control of myself. 'Nothing's
   wrong with it. I think it's brilliant. So… are you having a show, or anything?'
   'It's in three weeks. That's why we've been doing extra practices.'
   'Three weeks?' I stare at her, my laughter melting away. 'Weren't you going to tell me?'
   'I… I hadn't decided,' she says, scuffing her dancing shoe on the floor. 'I was embarrassed.'
   'Don't be embarrassed!' I say in dismay. 'Lissy, I'm sorry I laughed. I think it's brilliant. And
   I'm going to come and watch. I'll sit right in the front row…'
   'Not the front row. You'll put me off.'
   'I'll sit in the middle, then. Or at the back. Wherever you want me.' I give her a curious look.
   'Lissy, I never knew you could dance.'
   'Oh, I can't,' she says at once. 'I'm crap. It's just a bit of fun. D'you want a coffee?'
   As I follow Lissy into the kitchen, she gives me a raised-eyebrow look. 'So, you've got a bit of
   a nerve, accusing me of having sex. Where were you last night?'
   'With Jack,' I admit with a dreamy smile. 'Having sex. All night.'
   'I knew it!'
   'Oh God, Lissy. I'm completely in love with him.'
   'In love?' She flicks on the kettle. 'Emma, are you sure? You've only known him about five
   minutes.'
   'That doesn't matter! We're already complete soul-mates. There's no need to pretend with him
   … or try to be something I'm not… and the sex is amazing… He's everything I never had
   with Connor. Everything. And he's interested in me. You know, he asks me questions all the
   time, and he seems really genuinely fascinated by the answers.'
   I spread my arms with a blissful smile and sink down onto a chair. 'You know, Lissy, all my
   life I had this feeling that something wonderful was about to happen to me. I always just…
   knew it, deep down inside. And now it has.'
   'So where is he now?' says Lissy, shaking coffee into the cafetiere.
   'He's going away for a bit. He's going to brainstorm some new concept with a creative team.'
   'What?'
   'I dunno. He didn't say. It'll be really intense and he probably won't be able to phone me. But
   he's going to email every day,' I add happily.
   'Biscuit?' says Lissy, opening the tin.
   'Oh, er… yes. Thanks.' I take a digestive and give it a thoughtful nibble. 'You know, I've got
   this whole new theory about relationships. It's so simple. Everyone in the world should be
   more honest with each other. Everyone should share! Men and women should share, families
   should share, world leaders should share!'
   'Hmm.' Lissy looks at me silently for a few moments. 'Emma, did Jack ever tell you why he
   had to go rushing off in the middle of the night that time?'
   'No,' I say in surprise. 'But it's his business.'
   'Did he ever tell you what all those phone calls were about on your first date?'
   'Well… no.'
   'Has he told you anything about himself other than the bare minimum?'
   'He's told me plenty!' I say defensively. 'Lissy, what's your problem?'
   'I don't have a problem,' she says mildly. 'I'm just wondering… is it you who's doing all the
   sharing?'
   'What?'
   'Is he sharing himself with you?' She pours hot water onto the coffee. 'Or are you just sharing
   yourself with him?'
   'We're sharing with each other,' I say, looking away and fiddling with a fridge magnet.
   Which is true, I tell myself firmly. Jack's shared loads with me! I mean, he's told me…
   He's told me all about…
   Well, anyway. He probably just hasn't been in the mood for talking very much. Is that a
   crime?
   'Have some coffee,' says Lissy, handing me a mug.
   'Thanks,' I say, a touch grudgingly, and Lissy sighs.
   'Emma, I'm not trying to spoil things. He does seem really lovely-'
   'He is! Honestly, Lissy, you don't know what he's like. He's so romantic. Do you know what
   he said this morning? He said the minute I started talking on that plane, he was gripped.'
   'Really?' Lissy gazes at me. 'He said that? That is pretty romantic.'
   'I told you!' I can't help beaming at her. 'Lissy, he's perfect!'

NINETEEN

   For the next couple of weeks, nothing can pierce my happy glow. Nothing. I waft into work
   on a cloud, sit all day smiling at my computer terminal, then waft home again. Paul's sarcastic
   comments bounce off me like bubbles. I don't even notice when Artemis introduces me to a
   visiting advertising team as her personal secretary. They can all say what they like. Because
   what they don't know is that when I'm smiling at my computer, it's because Jack has just sent
   me another funny little email. What they don't know is that the guy who employs them all is
   in love with me. Me. Emma Corrigan. The junior.
   'Well, of course, I had several in-depth conversations with Jack Harper on the subject,' I can
   hear Artemis saying on the phone as I tidy up the proofs cupboard. 'Yup. And he felt — as I do
   — that the concept really needed to be refocused.'
   Bullshit! She never had any in-depth conversations with Jack Harper. I'm almost tempted to
   email him straight away and tell him how she's using his name in vain.
   Except that would be a bit mean.
   And besides, she's not the only one. Everyone is dropping Jack Harper into their
   conversations, left, right and centre. It's as if now he's gone, everyone's suddenly pretending
   they were his best friend and he thought their idea was perfect.
   Apart from me. I'm just keeping my head down and not mentioning his name at all.
   Partly because I know that if I do, I'll blush bright red, or give some huge, goofy smile or
   something. Partly because I have a horrible feeling that if I once start talking about Jack, I
   won't be able to stop. But mainly because no-one ever brings the subject up with me. After all,
   what would I know about Jack Harper? I'm only the crappy assistant, after all.
   'Hey!' says Nick, looking up from his phone. 'Jack Harper's going to be on television!'
   'What?'
   I feel a jolt of surprise. Jack's going to be on television?
   How come he didn't tell me?
   'Is a TV crew coming to the office, or anything?' says Artemis, smoothing down her hair.
   'Dunno.'
   'OK folks,' says Paul, coming out of his office. 'Jack Harper has done an interview on
   Business Watch, and it's being broadcast at twelve. A television is being set up in the large
   meeting room; anyone who would like to can go along and watch there. But we need one
   person to stay behind and man the phones.' His gaze falls on me. 'Emma. You can stay.'
   'What?' I say blankly.
   'You can stay and man the phones,' says Paul. 'OK?'
   'No! I mean… I want to watch!' I say in dismay. 'Can't someone else stay behind? Artemis,
   can't you stay?'
   'I'm not staying!' says Artemis at once. 'Honestly, Emma, don't be so selfish. It won't be at all
   interesting for you.'
   'Yes it will!'
   'No it won't.' She rolls her eyes.
   'It will,'I say desperately. 'He's… he's my boss too!'
   'Yes, well,' says Artemis sarcastically, 'I think there's a slight difference. You've barely even
   spoken to Jack Harper.'
   'I have!' I say before I can stop myself. 'I have! I…' I break off, my cheeks turning pink. 'I…
   once went to a meeting he was at…'
   'And served him a cup of tea?' Artemis meets Nick's eyes with a little smirk.
   I stare at her furiously, blood pounding through my ears, wishing just once I could think of
   something really scathing and clever to put Artemis down.
   'Enough, Artemis,' says Paul. 'Emma, you're staying here, and that's settled.'
   By five to twelve the office is completely empty. Apart from me, a fly and a whirring fax
   machine. Disconsolately I reach into my desk drawer and take out an Aero. And a Flake for
   good measure. I'm just unwrapping the Aero and taking a big bite when the phone rings.
   'OK,' comes Lissy's voice down the line. 'I've set the video.'
   'Thanks, Liss,' I say through a mouthful of chocolate. 'You're a star.'
   'I can't believe you're not allowed to watch.'
   'I know. It's completely unfair.' I slump deeper in my chair and take another bite of Aero.
   'Well, never mind, we'll watch it again tonight. Jemima's going to put the video on in her
   room too, so we should definitely catch it.'
   'What's Jemima doing at home?' I say in surprise.
   'She's taken a sickie so she can do a home spa day. Oh, and your dad rang,' she adds
   cautiously.
   'Oh right.' I feel a flicker of apprehension. 'What did he say?'
   I haven't talked to Mum or Dad since the debacle at the Corporate Family Day. I just can't
   bring myself to. It was all too painful and embarrassing, and for all I know, they've
   completely taken Kerry's side.
   So when Dad rang here on the following Monday, I said I was really busy and I'd call him
   back — and, never did. And the same thing at home.
   I know I'll have to talk to them some time. But not now. Not while I'm so happy.
   'He'd seen the trailer for the interview,' says Lissy. 'He recognized Jack and just wondered if
   you knew about it. And he said…' She pauses. 'He really wanted to talk to you about a few
   things.'
   'Oh.' I stare at my notepad, where I've doodled a huge spiral over a telephone number I was
   supposed to be keeping.
   'Anyway, he and your mum are going to be watching it,' says Lissy. 'And your grandpa.'
   Great. Just great. The entire world is watching Jack on television. The entire world except me.
   When I've put the phone down, I go and get myself a coffee from the new machine, which
   actually does make a very nice cafe au lait. I come back and look around the quiet office, then
   go and pour orange juice into Artemis's spider plant. And some photocopier toner for good
   measure.
   Then I feel a bit mean. It's not the plant's fault, after all.
   'Sorry,' I say out loud, and touch one of its leaves. 'It's just your owner is a real cow. But then,
   you probably knew that.'
   'Talking to your mystery man?' comes a sarcastic voice from behind me, and I turn round in
   shock, to see Connor standing in the doorway.
   'Connor!' I say. 'What are you doing here?'
   'I'm on my way to watch the TV interview. But I just wanted a quick word.' He takes a few
   steps into the office, and fixes me with an accusing stare. 'So. You lied to me.'
   Oh shit. Has Connor guessed? Did he see something at the Corporate Family Day?
   'What do you mean?' I say nervously.
   'I've just had a little chat with Tristan from Design.' Connor's voice swells with indignation.
   'He's gay! You're not going out with him at all, are you?'
   He cannot be serious. Connor didn't seriously think I was going out with Tristan from Design,
   did he? I mean, Tristan could not look more gay if he wore leopardskin hotpants, carried a
   handbag, and walked around humming Barbra Streisand hits.
   'No,' I say, managing to keep a straight face. 'I'm not going out with Tristan.'
   'Well!' says Connor, nodding as though he's scored a hundred points and doesn't quite know
   what to do with them. 'Well. I just don't see why you feel it necessary to lie to me.' He lifts his
   chin in wounded dignity. 'That's all. I just would have thought we could be a little honest with
   each other.'
   'Connor, it's just… it's complicated. OK?'
   'Fine. Whatever. It's your boat, Emma.'
   There's a slight pause.
   'It's my what?' I say puzzledly. 'My boat?'
   'Court,' he says with a flash of annoyance. 'I meant to say… the ball's in your court.'
   'Oh right,' I say, none the wiser. 'Er… OK. I'll bear that in mind.'
   'Good.' He gives me his most wounded-martyr look, and starts walking away.
   'Wait!' I say suddenly. 'Hang on a minute! Connor, could you do me a real favour?' I wait
   until he turns, then pull a wheedling face. 'Could you possibly man the phones here while I