Can You Keep a Secret? (21 page)

Suddenly I notice my unfinished list of date ideas lying prominently on my desk. Shit. As casually as possible I reach for it, screw it up and nonchalantly drop it in the bin.

All the gossip about Sven and Jack has petered out. I know everyone in the office is listening to us, even if they're pretending to be doing something else. It's like we're the in-house soap opera or something.

And I know which character I am. I'm the heartless bitch who chucked her lovely, decent man for no good reason.

Oh God. The thing is, I do feel guilty, I really do. Every time I see Connor, or even think about him, I get a horrible tight feeling in my chest. But does he
have
to have such an expression of injured dignity on his face? A kind of you've-mortally-wounded-me-but-I'm-such-a-good-person-I-forgive-you look.

I can feel my guilt ebbing away and annoyance starting to ebb in.

'I only came up,' says Connor at last, 'because I'd put us down to do a stint on the Pimm's stall together at the Corporate Family Day. Obviously when I did so, I thought we'd be—', He breaks off, looking more wounded than ever. 'Anyway. But I don't mind going through with it. If you don't.'

I'm not going to be the one to say I can't bear to stand next to him for half an hour.

'I don't mind!' I say.

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

There's another awkward pause.

'I found your blue shirt, by the way,' I say, with a tiny shrug. 'I'll bring it in.'

'Thanks. I think I've got some stuff of yours, too …'

'Hey,' says Nick, coming over towards us with a wicked, eyes gleaming, let's-shit-stir expression. 'I saw you with someone last night.'

My heart gives a huge, terrified bound. Fuck! Fuck fuck OK … OK … It's OK. He's not looking at me. He's looking at Connor.

Who the hell'was Connor with?

'That was just a friend,' says Connor stiffly.

'Are you sure?' says Nick. 'You looked pretty friendly to me.'

'Shut up, Nick,' says Connor, looking pained. 'It's far too early to be thinking of … moving on. Isn't it, Emma?'

'Er … yes.' I swallow several times. 'Absolutely. Definitely.'

Oh God.

Anyway. Never mind. I'm not going to worry about Connor. I have an important date to think about. And thank goodness, by the end of the day I have at last come up with the perfect venue. In fact I'm amazed I didn't think of it before! There is one tiny little hitch – but I'll easily overcome it.

Sure enough, it only takes me about half an hour to persuade Lissy that when they said 'The key shall in no circumstances be transferred to any non-member' in the rules, they didn't really mean it. At last she reaches into her bag and hands it to me, an anxious expression on her face.

'Don't lose it!'

'I won't! Thanks, Liss.' I give her a hug. 'Honestly, I'll do the same for you when I'm a member of an exclusive club.'

'You remember the password, don't you?'

'Yes. Alexander.'

'Where are you going?' says Jemima, coming into my room all dressed up to go out. She gives me a critical look. 'Nice top. Where's it from?'

'Oxfam. I mean, Whistles.'

I've decided tonight I'm not even going to
try
to borrow anything from Jemima. I'm going to wear all my own clothes, and if Jack doesn't like it, he can lump it.

'I was meaning to ask,' Jemima says, narrowing her eyes. 'You two didn't go into my room last night, did you?'

'No,' says Lissy innocently. 'Why, did it look like we had?'

Jemima was out until three, and by the time she got back, everything was back in place. Sellotape and everything. We couldn't have been more careful.

'No,' admits Jemima reluctantly. 'Nothing was out of place. But I just got a
feeling
. As though someone had been in there.'

'Did you leave the window open?' says Lissy. 'Because I read this article recently, about how monkeys are being sent into houses to steal things.'

'
Monkeys
?' Jemima stares at her.

'Apparently. The thieves train them.'

Jemima looks perplexedly from Lissy to me, and I force myself to keep a straight face.

'Anyway,' I say quickly, to change the subject. 'You might like to know that you were wrong about Jack. I'm going out with him again tonight. It wasn't a disastrous date at all!'

There's no need to add the small detail that we had a big row and I stormed out and he had to follow me to the bus stop. Because the point is, we're having a second date.

'I wasn't wrong,' says Jemima. 'You just wait. I predict doom.'

I pull a face at her behind her back as she leaves, and start putting on my mascara 'What's the time?' I say, frowning as I blob a bit on my eyelid.

'Ten to eight,' says Lissy. 'How are you going to get there?'

'Cab.'

Suddenly the buzzer goes, and we both look up.

'He's early,' says Lissy. 'That's a bit weird.'

'He can't be early!' We hurry into the sitting room, and Lissy gets to the window first.

'Oh my God,' she says, looking down to the street below. 'It's Connor.'

'
Connor
?' I stare at her in horror. 'Connor's here?'

'He's holding a box of stuff. Shall I buzz him up?'

'No! Pretend we're not in!'

'Too late,' says Lissy, and pulls a face. 'Sorry. He's seen me.'

The buzzer sounds again, and we look at each other helplessly.

'OK,' I say at last. 'I'm going down.'

Shit shit shit …

I pelt downstairs and breathlessly open the door. And there, standing on the doorstep, is Connor, wearing the same martyred expression he had at the office.

'Hi,' he says. 'Here are the things I was telling you about. I thought you might need them.'

'Er, thanks,' I say, grabbing the box, which seems to contain one bottle of L'Oréal shampoo and some jumper I've never seen in my life. 'I haven't quite sorted out your stuff yet, so I'll bring it to the office, shall I?'

I dump the box on the stairs, and quickly turn back before Connor thinks I'm inviting him in.

'So, um, thanks,' I say. 'It was really good of you to stop by.'

'No problem,' says Connor. He gives a heavy sigh. 'Emma … I was thinking perhaps we could use this as an opportunity to talk. Maybe we could have a drink, or supper even.'

'Gosh,' I say brightly. 'I'd love that. I really would. But to be honest, now isn't a completely brilliant time.'

'Are you going out?' His face falls.

'Um, yes. With Lissy.' I glance surreptitiously at my watch. It's six minutes to eight. 'So anyway, I'll see you soon. You know, around the office …'

'Why are you so flustered?' Connor is staring at me.

'I'm not flustered!' I say, and lean casually against the doorframe.

'What's wrong?' His eyes narrow suspiciously, and he looks past me into the hall. 'Is something going on?'

'Connor,' I put a reassuring hand on his arm. 'Nothing's going on. You're imagining things.'

At that moment, Lissy appears behind me at the door.

'Um, Emma, there's a very urgent phone call for you,' she says in a really stilted voice. 'You'd better come straight away … oh, hello Connor!'

Unfortunately Lissy is the worst liar in the world.

'You're trying to get rid of me!' says Connor, looking from Lissy to me in bewilderment.

'No we're not!' says Lissy, flushing bright red.

'Hang on,' says Connor suddenly, staring at my outfit. 'Hang on a minute. I don't … are you going on a … date?'

My mind works quickly. If I deny it, we'll probably get into some huge argument. But if I admit the truth, maybe he'll stalk off in a huff.

'You're right,' I say. 'I've got a date.'

There's a shocked silence.

'I don't believe this,' says Connor, shaking his head, and to my dismay, sinks heavily down onto the garden wall. I glance at my watch. Three minutes to eight. Shit!

'Connor …'

'You told me there wasn't anyone else! You promised, Emma!'

'There wasn't! But … there is now. And he'll be here soon … Connor, you really don't want to get into this.' I grab his arm and try to lift him up, but he weighs about twelve stone. 'Connor, please. Don't make this more painful for everyone.'

'I suppose you're right.' At last Connor gets to his feet. 'I'll go.'

He walks to the gate, his back hunched in defeat, and I feel a pang of guilt, mixed with an urgent desire for him to hurry. Then, to my horror, he turns back.

'So, who is it?'

'It's … it's someone you don't know,' I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. 'Look, we'll have lunch soon and have a good talk. Or something, I promise.'

'OK,' says Connor, looking more wounded than ever. 'Fine. I get the message.'

I watch, unable to breathe, as he shuts the gate behind him and walks slowly along the street. Keep walking, keep walking … don't stop …

As he finally rounds the corner, Jack's silver car appears at the other end of the street.

'Oh my God,' says Lissy, staring at it.

'Don't!' I sink onto the stone wall. 'Lissy, I can't cope with this.'

I feel shaky. I think I need a drink. And I've only got mascara on one set of eyelashes, I abruptly realize.

The silver car pulls up in front of the house, and out gets the same uniformed driver as before. He opens the passenger door, and Jack steps out.

'Hi!' he says, looking taken aback to see me. 'Am I late?'

'No! I was just … um … sitting here. You know. Taking in the view.' I gesture across the road, where I notice for the first time that a man with a huge belly is changing the wheel on his caravan. 'Anyway!' I say, hastily standing up, 'Actually, I'm not quite ready. Do you want to come up for a minute?'

'Sure,' says Jack with a smile. 'That would be nice.'

'And send your car away,' I add. 'You weren't supposed to have it!'

'You weren't supposed to be sitting outside your house and catch me out,' retorts Jack with a grin. 'OK, Daniel, that's it for the night.' He nods to the driver. 'I'm in this lady's hands from now on.'

'This is Lissy, my flatmate,' I say as the driver gets back into the car. 'Lissy, Jack.'

'Hi,' says Lissy with a self-conscious grin, as they shake hands.

As we make our way up the stairs to our flat, I'm suddenly aware of how narrow they are, and how the cream paint on the walls is all scuffed, and the carpet smells of cabbage. Jack probably lives in some enormous grand mansion. He probably has a marble staircase or something.

But so what? We can't all have marble.

Anyway, it's probably awful. All cold and clattery. You probably trip on it all the time, and it probably chips really easily—

'Emma, if you want to get ready, I'll fix Jack a drink,' says Lissy, with a smile that says: He's nice!

'Thanks,' I say, shooting back an 'isn't he?' look. I hurry into my room and hurriedly start applying mascara to my other eye.

A few moments later there's a little knock at my door.

'Hi!' I say, expecting Lissy. But in comes Jack, holding out a glass of sweet sherry.

'Oh, thanks!' I say gratefully. 'I could do with a drink.'

'I won't come in,' he says politely.

'No, it's fine. Sit down!'

I gesture to the bed, but it's covered with clothes. And my dressing table stool is piled high with magazines. Damn, I should have tidied up a bit.

'I'll stand,' says Jack with a little smile. He takes a sip of what looks like whisky, and looks around my room in fascination. 'So this is your room. Your world.'

'Yes.' I flush slightly, unscrewing my lip-gloss. 'It's a bit messy—'

'It's very nice. Very homey.' I can see him taking in the shoes piled in the corner, the fish mobile hanging from my light, the mirror with necklaces strung over the side, and a new skirt hanging on the wardrobe door.

'Cancer Research?' he says puzzledly, looking at the label. 'What does that—'

'It's a shop,' I say, a little defiantly. 'A second-hand shop.'

'Ah.' He nods in tactful comprehension. 'Nice bedcover,' he adds, smiling.

'It's ironic,' I say hastily. 'It's an ironic statement.'

God, how embarrassing. I should have changed it.

Now Jack's staring incredulously at my open dressing-table drawer, crammed with makeup. 'How many lipsticks do you have?'

'Er, a few …' I say, hastily closing it.

Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to let Jack come in here. He's picking up my Perfectil vitamins, and examining them. I mean, what's so interesting about
vitamins
? Now he's looking at Katie's crochet belt.

'What's this? A snake?'

'It's a belt,' I say, screwing up my face as I put in an earring. 'I know. It's hideous. I can't stand crochet.'

Where's my other earring? Where?

Oh, OK, here it is. Now what's Jack doing?

I turn to see him looking in fascination at my exercise chart, which I put up in January after I'd spent the entire Christmas eating Quality Street.

'"Monday, 7 a.m.",' he reads aloud. '"Brisk jog round block. Forty sit-ups. Lunch time: yoga class. Evening: Pilates tape. Sixty sit-ups."' He takes a sip of whisky. 'Very impressive. You do all this?'

'Well,' I say after a pause. 'I don't exactly manage every
single
… I mean, it was quite an ambitious … you know … er … Anyway!' I quickly spritz myself with perfume. 'Let's go!'

I have to get him out of here quickly before he does something like spot a Tampax and ask me what it is. I mean, honestly! Why on earth is he so
interested
in everything?

FIFTEEN

As we head out into the balmy evening, I feel light and happy with anticipation. Already there's a completely different atmosphere from yesterday night. No scary cars; no posh restaurants. It feels more casual. More fun.

'So,' says Jack, as we walk up to the main road. 'An evening out, Emma-style.'

'Absolutely!' I stick out my hand and hail a taxi, and give the name of the road in Clerkenwell off which the little alley runs.

'We're allowed to go by taxi, are we?' says Jack mildly as we get in. 'We don't have to wait for a bus?'

'As a very special treat,' I say with mock severity.