Can You Keep a Secret? (22 page)

'So, are we eating? Drinking? Dancing?' says Jack, as we move off down the street.

'Wait and see!' I beam at him. 'I just thought we could have a really laid-back, spontaneous evening.'

'I guess I over-planned last night,' says Jack after a pause.

'No, it was lovely!' I say kindly. 'But sometimes you can put
too
much thought into things. You know, sometimes it's better just to go with the flow and see what happens.'

'You're right.' Jack smiles. 'Well, I look forward to going with the flow.'

As we whiz along Upper Street, I feel quite proud of myself. It just shows I'm a true Londoner. I can take my guests to little places off the beaten track. I can find spots which aren't just the obvious venues to go. I mean, not that Jack's restaurant wasn't amazing. But how much cooler will this be? A secret club! And I mean, who knows, Madonna might be there this evening!

After about twenty minutes we get to Clerkenwell. I insist on paying the taxi fare, and lead Jack down the alley.

'Very interesting,' says Jack, looking around. 'So where are we heading?'

'Just wait,' I say enigmatically. I head for the door, press the buzzer and take Lissy's key out of my pocket with a little
frisson
of excitement.

He is going to be so impressed. He is going to be
so
impressed!

'Hello?' comes a voice.

'Hello,' I say casually. 'I'd like to speak to Alexander, please.'

'Who?' says the voice.

'Alexander,' I repeat, and give a knowing smile. Obviously they have to double-check.

'Ees no Alexander here.'

'You don't understand. Al-ex-and-er,' I enunciate clearly.

'Ees no Alexander.'

Maybe I got the wrong door, it suddenly occurs to me. I mean, I remember it as being this one – but maybe it was this other one with the frosted glass. Yes. That one looks quite familiar, actually.

'Tiny hitch,' I smile at Jack, and press the new bell.

There's silence. I wait a few minutes, then try again, and again. There's no reply. OK. So … it's not this one either.

Fuck.

I am a moron. Why didn't I check the address? I was just so sure I'd remember where it was.

'Is there a problem?' says Jack.

'No!' I say at once, and smile brightly. 'I'm just trying to recall exactly …'

I look up and down the street, trying not to panic. Which one was it? Am I going to have to ring every single doorbell in the street? I take a few steps along the pavement, trying to trigger my memory. And then, through an arch, I spy another alley, almost identical to this one.

I feel a huge thud of horror. Am I in the right
alley
, even? I dart forward and peer into the other alley. It looks exactly the same. Rows of nondescript doors and blanked-out windows.

My heart starts to beat more quickly. What am I going to do? I can't try every single doorbell in every bloody alley in the vicinity. It never once occurred to me that this might happen. Not once. I never even thought to—

OK, I'm being stupid. I'll call Lissy! She'll tell me. I pull out my mobile and dial home, but immediately it clicks onto answerphone.

'Hi, Lissy, it's me,' I say, trying to sound light and casual. 'A tiny little hitch has happened, which is that I can't remember exactly which door the club is behind. Or actually … which alley it's in either. So if you get this, could you give me a call? Thanks!'

I look up to see Jack watching me.

'Everything OK?'

'Just a slight glitch,' I say, and give a relaxed little laugh. 'There's this secret club along here somewhere, but I can't quite remember where.'

'Never mind,' says Jack nicely. 'These things happen.'

I jab the number for home again, but it's engaged. Quickly I dial Lissy's mobile number, but it's switched off.

Oh fuck. Fuck. We can't stand here in the street all night.

'Emma,' says Jack cautiously. 'Would you like me to make a reservation at—'

'No!' I jump as though stung. Jack's not going to reserve anything. I've said I'll organize this evening, and I will. 'No thanks. It's OK.' I make a snap decision. 'Change of plan. We'll go to Antonio's instead.'

'I could call the car …' begins Jack.

'We don't need the car!' I stride purposefully towards the main road and thank God, a taxi's coming along with its light on. I flag it down, open the door for Jack and say to the driver,

'Hi, Antonio's on Sanderstead Road in Clapham, please.'

Hurrah. I have been grown-up and decisive and saved the situation.

'Where's Antonio's?' says Jack, as the taxi begins to speed away.

'It's a bit out of the way, in south London. But it's really nice. Lissy and I used to go there when we lived in Wandsworth. It's got huge pine tables, and gorgeous food, and sofas and stuff. And they never chivvy you.'

'It sounds perfect.' Jack smiles, and I smile proudly back.

OK, it should
not
take this long to get from Clerkenwell to Clapham. We should have got there ages ago. I mean, it's only down the road!

After about half an hour, I lean forward and say to the driver yet again, 'Is there a problem?'

'Traffic, love.' He gives an easy shrug. 'What can you do?'

You can find a clever traffic-avoiding back route like taxi drivers are supposed to! I want to yell furiously. But instead I say politely, 'So … how long do you think it'll be before we get there?'

'Who knows?'

I sink back on my seat, feeling my stomach churning with frustration.

We should have gone somewhere in Clerkenwell. Or Covent Garden. I am such a moron …

'Emma, don't worry,' says Jack. 'I'm sure it'll be great when we get there.'

'I hope so,' I say with a weak smile.

I can't make small talk. I'm using every ounce of concentration in willing the taxi to go faster. I stare out of the window, giving an inward cheer every time the postcodes on the street signs get closer to where we want to be. SW3 … SW11 … SW4!

At last! We're in Clapham. Nearly there …

Shit. Another bloody red traffic light. I almost can't keep still on my seat And the driver's just sitting there, like it doesn't matter.

OK, it's green! Go! Go now!

But he's pulling off in this leisurely way, as though we've got all day … he's chuntering down the street … now he's giving way to another driver!
What is he doing?

OK. Calm down, Emma. Here's the street. We're finally here.

'So this is it!' I say, trying to sound relaxed as we get out of the taxi. 'Sorry it took a while.'

'No problem,' says Jack. 'This place looks great!'

As I hand the fare to the taxi driver, I have to admit I'm pretty pleased we came. Antonio's looks absolutely amazing! There are fairy lights decorating the familiar green façade, and helium balloons tied to the canopy, and music and laughter spilling out of the open door. I can even hear people singing inside.

'It's not normally quite
this
buzzing!' I say with a laugh, and head for the door. I can already see Antonio standing just inside.

'Hi!' I say as I push the door open. 'Antonio!'

'Emma!' says Antonio, who's standing by the door holding a glass of wine. His cheeks are flushed and he's beaming even more widely than usual. '
Bellissima
!' He kisses me on each cheek, and I feel a flood of warm relief. I was right to come here. I know the management. They'll make sure we have a wonderful time.

'This is Jack,' I say, grinning at him.

'Jack! Wonderful to meet you!' Antonio kisses Jack on each cheek too, and I giggle.

'So, could we have a table for two?'

'Ah …' He pulls a face of regret. 'Sweetheart, we're closed!'

'What?' I stare back at him, baffled. 'But … but you're not closed. People are here!' I look around at all the merry faces.

'It's a private party!' He raises his glass to someone across the room and shouts something in Italian. 'My nephew's wedding. You ever meet him? Guido. He served here a few summers ago.'

'I … I'm not sure.'

'He met a lovely girl at the law school. You know, he's qualified now. You ever need legal advice …'

'Thanks. Well … congratulations.'

'I hope the party goes well,' says Jack, and squeezes my arm briefly. 'Never mind, Emma, you couldn't have known.'

'Darling, I'm sorry!' says Antonio, seeing my face. 'Another night, I'll give you the best table we have. You call in advance, you let me know …'

'I'll do that,' I manage a smile. 'Thanks, Antonio.'

I can't even look at Jack. I dragged him all the way down to bloody Clapham for this.

I have to redeem this situation. Quickly.

'We'll go to the pub,' I say as soon as we're outside on the pavement. 'I mean, what's wrong with just sitting down with a nice drink?'

'Sounds good,' says Jack mildly, and follows me as I hurry down the street to a sign reading The Nag's Head, and push the door open. I've never been in this pub before, but surely it's bound to be fairly—

OK. Maybe not.

This has to be the grimmest pub I've ever seen in my life. Threadbare carpet, no music, and with no signs of life except a single man with a paunch.

I cannot have a date with Jack in here. I just can't.

'Right!' I say, swinging the door shut again, 'Let's think again.' I quickly look up and down the street, but apart from Antonio's everything is shut except for a couple of grotty takeaway places and a minicab firm. 'Well … let's just grab a taxi and head back to town!' I say, with a kind of shrill brightness. 'It won't take too long.'

I stride to the edge of the pavement and stick out my hand.

During the next three minutes not a single car passes by. Not just no taxis. No vehicles at all.

'Kind of quiet,' observes Jack at last.

'Well, this is really a residential area. Antonio's is a bit of a one-off.'

Outwardly, I'm still quite calm. But inside I'm starting to panic. What are we going to do? Should we try to walk to Clapham High Street? But it's bloody miles away.

I glance at my watch and see with a dart of shock that it's 9.15. We've spent over an hour faffing about and we haven't even had a drink. And it's all my fault. I can't even organize one simple evening without it going catastrophically wrong.

Suddenly I want to burst into tears. I want to sink down on the pavement and bury my head in my hands and sob.

'How about pizza?' says Jack, and my head jerks up in sudden hope.

'Why? Do you know a pizza place round—'

'I see pizza for sale.' He nods at one of the grotty takeaway places. 'And I see a bench.' He gestures to the other side of the road, where there's a tiny railed garden with paving and trees and a wooden bench. 'You get the pizza.' He smiles at me. 'I'll save the bench.'

I have never felt so mortified in my entire life. Ever.

Jack Harper takes me to the grandest, poshest restaurant in the world. And I take him to a park bench in Clapham.

'Here's your pizza,' I say, carrying the hot boxes over to where he's sitting. 'I got margarita, ham and mushroom and pepperoni.'

I can't quite believe this is going to be our supper. I mean, they aren't even
nice
pizzas. They aren't even gourmet, roasted-artichoke type of pizzas. They're just cheap slabs of dough pastry with melted, congealed cheese, and a few dodgy toppings.

'Perfect,' says Jack with a smile. He takes a large bite, then reaches into his inside pocket. 'Now, this was supposed to be your going home present, but since we're here …'

I gape as he produces a small, stainless steel cocktail shaker and two matching cups. He unscrews the top of the shaker and to my astonishment, pours a pink, transparent liquid into each cup.

Is that …

'I don't believe it!' I gaze at him, wide-eyed.

'Well, come on. I couldn't let you wonder all your life what it tasted like, could I?' He hands me a cup and raises his towards me. 'Your good health.'

'Cheers.' I take a sip of the cocktail … and oh my God it's yummy. Sharp and sweet, with a kick of vodka.

'Good?'

'Delicious!' I say, and take another sip.

He's being so nice to me. He's pretending he's having a good time. But what does he think inside? He must despise me. He must think I'm a complete and utter dizzy cow.

'Emma, are you OK?'

'Not really,' I say in a thick voice. 'Jack, I'm so sorry. I really am. I honestly had it all planned. We were going to go to this really cool club where celebrities go, and it was going to be really good fun …'

'Emma.' Jack puts his drink down and looks at me. 'I wanted to spend this evening with you. And that's what we're doing.'

'Yes. But—'

'That's what we're doing,' he repeats firmly.

Slowly he leans towards me and my heart starts to pound. Oh my God. Oh my God. He's going to kiss me. He's going to—

'Arrgh! Arrgh! Arrrgh!'

I leap up off the bench in total panic. A spider is running up my leg. A big black spider. 'Get it off!' I say, frantically.'Get it off!'

With one brisk swipe, Jack brushes the spider off onto the grass, and I subside back on the bench, my heart racing.

And of course, the mood's completely ruined. Great. Just marvellous. Jack tries to kiss me and I shriek in horror. I'm really doing splendidly tonight.

Why was I so pathetic? I think furiously. Why did I scream? I should have just gritted my teeth!

Not
literally
gritted my teeth, obviously. But I should have been cool. In fact, I should have been so swept away that I didn't even
notice
the spider.

'I don't suppose you're afraid of spiders,' I say to Jack, giving an awkward laugh. 'I don't suppose you're afraid of anything.'

Jack gives a noncommittal little smile in return.

'
Are
you afraid of anything?' I persist.

'Real men don't get afraid,' he says jokily.

In spite of myself, I feel a tiny prickle of discontent. Jack's not the best person in the world at talking about himself.

'So, where did you get this scar?' I ask, gesturing to his wrist.

'It's a long, boring story.' He smiles. 'You don't want to hear it.'