Can you keep a secret?

TWENTY-TWO

My heart is hammering in my chest as I stare at him through the glass doors. He puts out a hand, the door pings, and suddenly he's inside the coffee shop.

As he walks towards our table, I feel a rush of emotion. This is the man I thought I was in love with. This is the man who completely used me. Now the initial shock has faded, all the old feelings of pain and humiliation are threatening to take over and turn me to jelly again.

But I'm not going to let them. I'm going to be strong and dignified.

'Ignore him,' I say to Mum and Dad.

'Who?' says Dad, turning round in his chair. 'Oh!'

'Emma, I want to talk to you,' says Jack, his face earnest.

'Well, I don't want to talk to you.'

'I'm so sorry to interrupt.' He glances at Mum and Dad. 'If we could just have a moment …'

'I'm not going anywhere!' I say in outrage. 'I'm having a nice cup of coffee with my parents.'

'Please.' He sits down at an adjoining table. 'I want to explain. I want to apologize.'

'There's no explanation you could possibly give me.' I look fiercely at Mum and Dad. 'Pretend he isn't there. Just carry on.'

There's silence. Mum and Dad are giving each other surreptitious looks, and I can see Mum mouthing something. She stops abruptly as she sees me looking at her, and takes a sip of coffee.

'Let's just … have a conversation!' I say desperately. 'So, Mum.'

'Yes?' she says hopefully.

My mind is blank. I can't think of anything. All I can think is that Jack is sitting four feet away.

'How's the golf?' I say at last.

'It's … er … fine, thanks.' Mum shoots a glance at Jack.

'Don't look at him!' I mutter. 'And … and Dad?' I persevere, loudly. 'How's your golf?'

'It's … also fine,' says Dad stiltedly.

'Where do you play?' asks Jack politely.

'You're not in the conversation!' I cry, turning furiously on my chair.

There's silence.

'Dear me!' says Mum suddenly in a stagy voice. 'Just look at the time! We're due at the … the … sculpture exhibition.'

What?

'Lovely to see you, Emma—'

'You can't go!' I say in panic. But Dad's already opening his wallet and placing a £20 note on the table, while Mum stands up and puts on her white jacket.

'Just listen to him,' she whispers, bending down to give me a kiss.

'Bye, Emma,' says Dad, and squeezes my hand awkwardly. And within the space of about thirty seconds, they're gone.

I cannot believe they have done this to me.

'So,' says Jack, as the door pings shut.

Determinedly I shift my chair round, so I can't see him.

'Emma, please.'

Even more determinedly I shift my chair round again, until I'm staring straight at the wall. That'll show him.

The only thing is, now I can't reach my cappuccino.

'Here.' I look round to see Jack has moved his chair right up next to mine, and is holding out my cup to me.

'Leave me alone!' I say angrily, leaping to my feet. 'We have nothing to talk about. Nothing.'

I grab my bag and stalk out of the coffee shop, into the busy street. A moment later, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

'We could at least discuss what happened …'

'Discuss what?' I wheel round. 'How you used me? How you betrayed me?'

'OK, Emma. I appreciate I embarrassed you. But … is it really such a big deal?'

'Such a big deal?' I cry in disbelief, nearly knocking over a lady with a shopping trolley. 'You came into my life. You fed me this huge amazing romance. You made me fall in lo—' I halt myself abruptly, panting slightly. 'You said you were gripped by me. You made me … care for you … and I believed every single word!' My voice is starting to wobble treacherously. 'I believed it all, Jack. But all the way along, you had an ulterior motive. You were just using me for your stupid research. All the time, you were just … using me.'

Jack stares at me.

'No,' he says. 'No, wait. You have this wrong.' He grabs my arm. 'That's not the way it was. I didn't set out to use you.'

How does he have the nerve to say that?

'Of course you did!' I say, wrenching my arm out of his grasp, jabbing the button at a pedestrian crossing. 'Of course you did! Don't deny it was me you were talking about in that interview. Don't deny you had me in mind.' I feel a fresh spasm of humiliation. 'Every detail was me. Every bloody detail!'

'OK.' Jack is clasping his head. 'OK. Listen. I don't deny I had you in mind. I don't deny you filtered into … But that doesn't mean …' He looks up. 'I have you on my mind most of the time. That's the truth, I have you on my mind.'

The pedestrian crossing starts bleeping, telling us to cross. This is my cue to storm off and him to come running after me — but neither of us moves. I want to storm off, but somehow my body isn't doing it. Somehow my body wants to hear more.

'Emma, when Pete and I started the Panther Corporation, you know how we worked?' Jack's dark eyes are burning into mine. 'You know how we made our decisions?'

I give a minuscule, tell-me-if-you-like shrug.

'Gut instinct. Would we buy this? Would we like this? Would we go for this? That's what we asked each other. Every day, over and over.' He hesitates. 'During the past few weeks, I've been immersed in this new women's line. And all I've found myself asking myself is … would Emma like it? Would Emma drink it? Would Emma buy it?' Jack closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them. 'Yes, you got info my thoughts. Yes, you fed into my work. Emma, my life and my business have always gotten confused. That's the way I've always been. But that doesn't mean my life isn't real.' He hesitates. 'It doesn't mean that what we had … we have … is any less real.'

He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets.

'Emma, I didn't lie to you. I didn't feed you anything. I was gripped by you the minute I met you on that plane. The minute you looked up at me and said, "I don't even know if I've got a G spot!" I was hooked. Not because of business … because of you. Because of who you are. Every single tiny detail.' The flicker of a smile passes over his face. 'From the way you pick out your favourite horoscope every morning to the way you wrote the letter from Ernest P. Leopold. To your exercise plan on the wall. All of it.'

His gaze is fixed on mine, and my throat feels tight, and my head is all confused. And for an instant I feel myself wavering.

Just for an instant.

'That's all very well,' I say, my voice shaking. 'But you embarrassed me. You humiliated me!' I turn on my heel and start striding across the road again.

'I didn't mean to say so much,' says Jack, following me. 'I didn't mean to say anything. Believe me, Emma, I regret it as much as you do. The minute we stopped, I asked them to cut out that part. They promised me they would. I was …' He shakes his head. 'I don't know, goaded, I got carried away …'

'You got carried away?' I feel a renewed surge of outrage. 'Jack, you exposed every single detail about me!'

'I know, and I'm sorry …'

'You told the world about my underwear … and my sex life … and my Barbie bedcover and you didn't tell them it was ironic …'

'Emma, I'm sorry—'

'You told them how much I weigh!' My voice rises to a shriek. 'And you got it wrong!'

'Emma, really, I'm sorry—'

'Sorry isn't good enough!' I wheel round furiously round to face him. 'You ruined my life!'

'I ruined your life?' He gives me a strange look. 'Is your life ruined? Is it such a disaster for people to know the truth about you?'

'I …I …' For a moment I flounder. 'You don't know what it was like for me,' I say, on firmer ground. 'Everyone was laughing at me. Everyone was teasing me, in the whole office. Artemis was teasing me—'

'I'll fire her,' Jack cuts me off firmly.

I'm so shocked, I give a half-giggle, then turn it into a cough.

'And Nick was teasing me—'

'I'll fire him too.' Jack thinks for a moment. 'How about this: anyone who teased you, I'll fire.'

This time I can't help giggling out loud.

'You won't have a company left.'

'So be it. That'll teach me. That'll teach me to be so thoughtless.'

For a moment we stare at each other in the sunshine. My heart's beating quickly. I'm not quite sure what to think.

'Would you like to buy some lucky heather?' A woman in a pink sweatshirt suddenly thrusts a foil-wrapped sprig in my face, and I shake my head irritably.

'Lucky heather, sir?'

'I'll take the whole basket,' says Jack. 'I think I need it.' He reaches into his wallet, gives the woman two £50 notes, and takes the basket from her. All the time, his eyes are fixed on mine.

'Emma, I want to make this up to you,' he says, as the woman hurries away. 'Could we have lunch? A drink? A … a smoothie?' His face crinkles into a tiny smile, but I don't smile back. I'm too confused to smile. I can feel part of me starting to unbend; I can feel part of me starting to believe him. Wanting to forgive him. But my mind is still jumbled up. Things are still wrong somewhere.

'I don't know,' I say, rubbing my nose.

'Things were going so well, before I had to go and fuck it up.'

'Were they?' I say.

'Weren't they?' Jack hesitates, gazing at me over the heather. 'I kind of thought they were.'

My mind is buzzing. There are things I need to say. There are things I need to get into the open. A thought crystallizes in my head.

'Jack … what were you doing in Scotland? When we first met.'

At once, Jack's expression changes. His face closes up and he looks away.

'Emma, I'm afraid I can't tell you that.'

'Why not?' I say, trying to sound light.

'It's … complicated.'

'OK, then.' I think for a moment. 'Where did you go rushing off to that night with Sven? When you had to cut our date short.'

Jack sighs.

'Emma—'

'How about the night you had all those calls? What were those about?'

This time, Jack doesn't even bother answering.

'I see.' I push my hair back, trying to stay calm. 'Jack, did it ever occur to you that in all our time together, you hardly told me anything about yourself?'

'I … guess I'm a private person,' says Jack. 'Is it such a big deal?'

'It's quite a big deal to me. I shared everything with you. Like you said. All my thoughts, all my worries, everything. And you shared nothing with me.'

'That's not true—' He steps forward, still holding the cumbersome basket, and several sprigs of heather fall to the ground.

'Practically nothing, then.' I close my eyes briefly, trying to sort my thoughts. 'Jack, relationships are all about trust and equality. If one person shares, then the other person should share, too. I mean, you didn't even tell me you were going to be on television.'

'It was just a dumb interview, for Chrissakes!' A girl with six shopping bags knocks yet more heather out of Jack's basket, and in frustration he dumps it on a passing motorcycle courier's pannier. 'Emma, you're over-reacting.'

'I told you all my secrets,' I say stubbornly. 'You didn't tell me any of yours.'

Jack gives a sigh.

'With all due respect, Emma, I think it's a little different—'

'What?' I stare at him in shock. 'Why … why should it be any different?'

'You have to understand. I have things in my life which are very sensitive … complicated … very important …'

'And I don't?' My voice bursts from me like a rocket. 'You think my secrets are less important than yours? You think I'm less hurt by you blurting them out on television?' I'm shaking all over, with fury, with disappointment. 'I suppose that's because you're so huge and important and I'm — what am I, again, Jack?' I can feel my eyes glittering with tears. 'A nothing-special girl? An "ordinary, nothing-special girl"?'

Jack winces, and I can see I've hit home. He closes his eyes and for a long time I think he isn't going to speak.

'I didn't mean to use those words,' he says, rubbing his forehead. 'The minute I said them, I wished I could take them back. I was … I was trying to evoke something very different from that … a kind of image He looks up. 'Emma, you have to know I didn't mean—'

'I'm going to ask you again!' I say, my heart pounding. 'What were you doing in Scotland?'

There's silence. As I meet Jack's eyes, I know he's not going to tell me. He knows this is important to me and he's still not going to tell me.

'Fine,' I say, my voice lurching slightly. 'That's fine. I'm obviously not as important as you. I'm just some amusing girl who provides you with entertainment on flights and gives you ideas for your business.'

'Emma—'

'The thing is, Jack, that's not a real relationship. A real relationship is two-way. A real relationship is based on equality. And trust.' I swallow the lump in my throat. 'So why don't you just go and be with someone on your level, who you can share your precious secrets with? Because you obviously can't share them with me.'

I turn sharply before he can say anything else, and stalk away, two tears rolling down my cheeks, trampling the lucky heather underfoot.

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.