Can You Keep A Secret? Part 38

'And you're still going to get even,' adds Jemima determinedly.

It's one of those amazingly bright, crisp mornings that make you feel that London really is the best city in the world. As I'm walking from the tube station to work, my spirits can't help rising a little.

Maybe Lissy's right. Maybe everyone at work will already have forgotten about the whole thing. I mean, let's get a bit of proportion here. It wasn't that big a deal. It wasn't that interesting. Surely some other piece of gossip will have come along in the meantime. Surely everyone will be talking about ... the football. Or politics or something. Exactly.

I push open the gla.s.s door to the foyer with a small spurt of optimism, and walk in, my head held high.

'... a Barbie bedspread!' I immediately hear from across the marble. A guy from Accounts is talking to a woman with a 'Visitor' badge, who is listening avidly.

'... s.h.a.gging Jack Harper all along?' comes a voice from above me, and I look up to see a group of girls walking up the stairs.

'It's Connor I feel sorry for,' one replies. 'That poor guy ...'

'... pretended she loved jazz,' someone else is saying as they get out of the lift. 'I mean, why on earth would you do that?'

OK. So ... they haven't forgotten.

All my crisp optimism dies away, and for an instant I consider running away and spending the rest of my life under the duvet.

But I can't do that.

For a start, I'd probably get bored after about a week.

And secondly ... I have to face them. I have to do this.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I slowly make my way up the stairs and along the corridor. Everyone I pa.s.s either blatantly stares at me, or pretends they're not looking when they are, and at least five conversations are hastily broken off as I approach.

As I reach the door to the marketing department, I take a deep breath, then walk in, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.

'Hi everyone,' I say, taking off my jacket and hanging it on my chair.

'Emma!' exclaims Artemis in tones of sarcastic delight.'Well I never!'

'Good morning, Emma,' says Paul, coming out of his office and giving me an appraising look. 'You OK?'

'Fine, thanks.'

'Anything you'd like to ... talk about?' To my surprise he looks as if he genuinely means it.

But honestly. What does he think? That I'm going to go in there and sob on his shoulder, 'That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Jack Harper used me'?

I'll only do that if I get really, really desperate.

'No,' I say, my face p.r.i.c.kling. 'Thanks, but I'm OK.'

'Good.' He pauses, then adopts a more businesslike tone. 'Now, I'm a.s.suming that when you disappeared yesterday, it was because you'd decided to work from home.'

'Er ... yes.' I clear my throat. 'That's right.'

'No doubt you got lots of useful tasks done?'

'Er ... yes. Loads.'

'Excellent. Just what I thought. All right, then, carry on. And the rest of you.' Paul looks around the office warningly. 'Remember what I said.'

'Of course,' says Artemis at once. 'We all remember!'

Paul disappears into his office again, and I stare rigidly at my computer as it warms up. It'll be fine, I tell myself. I'll just concentrate on my work, completely immerse myself ...

Suddenly I become aware that someone's humming a tune, quite loudly. It's something I recognize. It's ...

It's the Carpenters.

And now a few others around the room are joining in on the chorus.

'Close to yoooou ...'

'All right, Emma?' says Nick, as my head jerks up suspiciously. 'D'you want a hanky?'

'Close to yoooou ...' everybody trills in unison again, and I hear m.u.f.fled laughter.

I'm not going to react. I'm not going to give them the pleasure.

As calmly as possible I click onto my emails, and give a small gasp of shock. I normally get about ten emails every morning, if that. Today I have ninety-five.

Dad: I'd really like to talk ...

Carol: I've already got two more people for our Barbie Club!

Moira: I know where you can get really comfy G-strings ...

Sharon: So how long has this been going on?!!

Fiona: Re: the body awareness workshop ...

I scroll down the endless list and suddenly feel a stabbing in my heart.

There are three from Jack.

What should I do?

Should I read them?

My hand hovers uncertainly over my mouse. Does he deserve at least a chance to explain?

'Oh Emma,' says Artemis innocently, coming over to my desk with a carrier bag. 'I've got this jumper I wondered if you'd like. It's a bit too small for me, but it's very nice. And it should fit you, because ' she pauses, and catches Caroline's eye 'it's a size eight.'

Immediately both of them erupt into hysterical giggles.

'Thanks, Artemis,' I say shortly. 'That's really sweet of you.'

'I'm off for a coffee,' says Fergus, standing up. 'Anybody want anything?'

'Make mine a Harvey's Bristol Cream,' says Nick brightly.

'Ha ha,' I mutter under my breath.

'Oh Emma, I meant to say,' Nick adds, sauntering over to my desk. 'That new secretary in Admin. Have you seen her? She's quite something, isn't she?'

He winks at me and I stare at him blankly for a moment, not understanding.

'Nice spiky haircut,' he adds. 'Nice dungarees.'

'Shut up!' I cry furiously, my face flaming red. 'I'm not a ... I'm not ... Just f.u.c.k off, all of you!'

My hand trembling with anger, I swiftly delete each and every one of Jack's emails. He doesn't deserve anything. No chance. Nothing.

I rise to my feet and stride out of the room, breathing hard. I head for the ladies' room, slam the door behind me, and rest my hot forehead on the mirror. Hatred for Jack Harper is bubbling through me like lava. Does he have any idea what I'm going through? Does he have any idea what he's done to me?

'Emma!' A voice interrupts my thoughts and I give a start. Immediately I feel a jolt of apprehension.

Katie has come into the Ladies without me hearing. She's standing right behind me, holding her makeup bag. Her face is reflected in the mirror next to mine ... and she isn't smiling. It's just like Fatal Attraction.

'So,' she says in a strange voice. 'You don't like crochet.'

Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d. What have I done? I've unleashed the bunny-boiler side of Katie that no-one's ever seen before. Maybe she'll impale me with a crochet needle, I find myself thinking wildly.

'Katie,' I say, my heart thumping hard. 'Katie, please listen. I never meant ... I never said ...'

'Emma, don't even try.' She lifts her hand. 'There's no point. We both know the truth.'

'He was wrong!' I say quickly. 'He got confused! I meant I don't like ... um ... creches. You know, all those babies everywhere-'

'You know, I was pretty upset yesterday,' Katie cuts me off with an eerie smile. 'But after work I went straight home, and I called my mum. And do you know what she said to me?'

'What?' I say apprehensively.

'She said ... she doesn't like crochet either.'

'What?' I wheel round and gape at her.

'And neither does my granny.' Her face flushes, and now she looks like the old Katie again. 'Or any of my relatives. They've all been pretending for years, just like you. It all makes sense now!' Her voice rises in agitation. 'You know, I made my granny a whole sofa cover last Christmas, and she told me that burglars had stolen it. But I mean, what kind of burglars steal a crochet sofa cover?'

'Katie, I don't know what to say ...'

'Emma, why couldn't you have told me before? All that time. Making stupid presents that people didn't want.'

'Oh G.o.d, Katie, I'm sorry!' I say, filled with remorse. 'I'm so sorry. I just ... didn't want to hurt you.'

'I know you were trying to be kind. But I feel really stupid now.'

'Yes, well. That makes two of us,' I say, a little morosely.

The door opens, and Wendy from Accounts comes in. There's a pause as she stares at us both, opens her mouth, closes it again, then disappears into one of the cubicles.

'So, are you OK?' says Katie in a lower voice.

'I'm fine,' I say with a tiny shrug. 'You know ...'

Yeah. I'm so fine, I'm hiding in the loos rather than face my colleagues.

'Have you spoken to Jack?' she says tentatively.

'No. He sent me some stupid flowers. Like, Oh, that's OK, then. He probably didn't even order them himself, he probably got Sven to do it.'

There's the sound of flus.h.i.+ng, and Wendy comes out of the cubicle again.

'Well ... this is the mascara I was talking about,' Katie says quickly, handing me a tube.

'Thanks,' I say. 'You say it ... um ... volumizes and lengthens?'

Wendy rolls her eyes.

'It's OK,' she says. 'I'm not listening!' She washes her hands, dries them, then gives me an avid look. 'So Emma, are you going out with Jack Harper?'

'No,' I say curtly. 'He used me and he betrayed me, and to be honest, I'd be happy if I never saw him again in my whole life.'

'Oh right!' she says brightly. 'It's just, I was wondering. If you're speaking to him again, could you just mention that I'd really like to move to the PR department?'

'What?' I stare at her blankly.

'If you could just casually drop it in. That I have good communication skills and I think I'd be really suited to PR.'

Casually drop it in? What, like, 'I never want to see you again, Jack, and by the way, Wendy thinks she'd be good at PR'?

'I'm not sure,' I say at last. 'I just ... don't think it's something I could do.'

'Well, I think that's really selfish of you, Emma,' says Wendy, looking offended. 'All I'm asking you is, if the subject comes up, to mention that I'd like to move to PR. Just mention it. I mean, how hard is that?'

'Wendy, p.i.s.s off!' says Katie. 'Leave Emma alone.'

'I was only asking!' says Wendy. 'I suppose you think you're above us now, do you?'

'No!' I exclaim in shock. 'It's not that-' But Wendy's already flounced out.

'Great,' I say, a sudden wobble to my voice. 'Just great! Now everyone's going to hate me, as well as everything else.'

I exhale sharply and stare at my reflection. I still can't quite believe how everything has turned upside down, just like that. Everything I believed in has turned out to be false. My perfect man is a cynical user. My dreamy romance was all a fabrication. I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. And now I'm just a stupid, humiliated laughing stock.