Can You Keep A Secret? Part 39

Oh G.o.d. My eyes are p.r.i.c.king again.

'Are you OK, Emma?' says Katie, gazing at me in dismay. 'Here, have a tissue.' She rummages in her makeup bag. 'And some eye gel.'

'Thanks,' I say, swallowing hard. I dab the eye gel on my eyes and force myself to breathe deeply until I'm completely calm again.

'I think you're really brave,' says Katie, watching me. 'In fact, I'm amazed you even came in today. I would have been far too embarra.s.sed.'

'Katie,' I say, turning to face her. 'Yesterday I had all my most personal, private secrets broadcast on TV.' I spread my arms widely. 'How could anything possibly be more embarra.s.sing than that?'

'Here she is!' comes a ringing voice behind us, and Caroline bursts into the Ladies. 'Emma, your parents are here to see you!'

No. I do not believe this. I do not believe this.

My parents are standing by my desk. Dad's wearing a smart grey suit, and Mum's all dressed up in a white jacket and navy skirt, and they're kind of holding a bunch of flowers between them. And the entire office is staring at them, as though they're some kind of rare creature.

Scratch that. The entire office has now turned their heads in order to stare at me.

'Hi, Mum,' I say in a voice that has suddenly gone rather husky. 'Hi, Dad.'

What are they doing here?

'Emma!' says Dad, making an attempt at his normal jovial voice. 'We just thought we'd ... pop in to see you.'

'Right,' I say, nodding dazedly. As though this is a perfectly normal course of events.

'We brought you a little present,' says Mum brightly. 'Some flowers for your desk.' She puts the bouquet down awkwardly. 'Look at Emma's desk, Brian. Isn't it smart! Look at the ... the computer!'

'Splendid!' says Dad, giving it a little pat. 'Very ... very fine desk indeed.'

'And are these your friends?' says Mum, smiling around the office.

'Kind of,' I say, scowling as Artemis beams back winsomely at her.

'We were just saying, the other day,' continues Mum, 'how proud you should be of yourself, Emma. Working for a big company like this. I'm sure many girls would be very envious of your career. Don't you agree, Brian?'

'Absolutely!' says Dad. 'You've done very well for yourself, Emma.'

I'm so taken aback, I can't even open my mouth. I meet Dad's eye, and he gives a strange, awkward little smile. And Mum's hands are trembling slightly as she puts the flowers down.

They're nervous, I realize with a jolt of shock. They're both nervous.

I'm just trying to get my head round this as Paul appears at the door of his office.

'So Emma,' he says, raising his eyebrows. 'You have visitors, I gather?'

'Er ... yes,' I say. 'Paul, these are ... um ... my parents, Brian and Rachel ...'

'Enchanted,' says Paul politely.

'We don't want to be any bother,' says Mum hurriedly.

'No bother at all,' says Paul, and bestows a charming smile on her. 'Unfortunately, the room we usually use for family bonding sessions is being redecorated.'

'Oh!' says Mum, unsure as to whether he's being serious or not. 'Oh dear!'

'So perhaps, Emma, you'd like to take your parents out for shall we call it an early lunch?'

I look up at the clock. It's a quarter to ten.

'Thanks, Paul,' I say gratefully.

This is surreal. It's completely surreal.

It's the middle of the morning. I should be at work. And instead I'm walking down the street with my parents, wondering what on earth we're going to say to each other. I can't even remember the last time it was just my parents and me. Just the three of us, no Grandpa, no Kerry, no Nev. It's as if we've gone back in time fifteen years, or something.

'We could go in here,' I say, as we reach an Italian coffee shop.

'Good idea!' says Dad heartily, and pushes the door open. 'We saw your friend Jack Harper on television yesterday,' he adds casually.

'He's not my friend,' I reply shortly, and he and Mum glance at each other.

We sit down at a wooden table and a waiter brings us each a menu, and there's silence.

Oh G.o.d. Now I'm feeling nervous.

'So ...' I begin, then stop. What I want to say is, Why are you here? But it might sound a bit rude. 'What ... brings you to London?' I say, instead.

'We just thought we'd like to visit you,' says Mum, looking through her reading gla.s.ses at the menu. 'Now, shall I have a cup of tea ... or what's this? A frap-pelatte?'

'I want a normal cup of coffee,' says Dad, peering at the menu with a frown. 'Do they do such a thing?'

'If they don't, you'll have to have a cappuccino and spoon off the froth,' says Mum. 'Or an espresso and just ask them to add hot water.'

I don't believe this. They have driven two hundred miles. Are we just going to sit here and talk about hot beverages all day?

'Oh, and that reminds me,' adds Mum casually. 'We've bought you a little something, Emma. Haven't we, Brian?'

'Oh ... right,' I say in surprise. 'What is it?'

'It's a car,' says Mum, and looks up at the waiter who's appeared at our table. 'h.e.l.lo! I would like a cappuccino, my husband would like a filter coffee if that's possible, and Emma would like-'

'A car?' I echo in disbelief.

'Car,' echoes the Italian waiter, and gives me a suspicious look. 'You want coffee?'

'I'd ... I'd like a cappuccino, please,' I say distractedly.

'And a selection of cakes,' adds Mum. 'Grazie!'

'Mum ...' I put a hand to my head as the waiter disappears. 'What do you mean, you've bought me a car?'

'Just a little run-around. You ought to have a car. It's not safe, you travelling on all these buses. Grandpa's quite right.'

'But ... but I can't afford a car,' I say stupidly. 'I can't even ... what about the money I owe you? What about-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad. 'We're going to wipe the slate clean.'

'What?' I stare at him, more bewildered than ever. 'But we can't do that! I still owe you-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad, a sudden edge to his voice. 'I want you to forget all about it, Emma. You don't owe us anything. Nothing at all.'

I honestly cannot take all this in. I look confusedly from Dad to Mum. Then back to Dad. Then, very slowly, back to Mum again.

And it's really strange. But it almost feels as though we're seeing each other properly for the first time in years. As though we're seeing each other and saying h.e.l.lo and kind of ... starting again.

'We were wondering what you thought about taking a little holiday next year,' says Mum. 'With us.'

'Just ... us?' I say, looking around the table.

'Just the three of us, we thought.' She gives me a tentative smile. 'It might be fun! You don't have to, of course, if you've got other plans.'

'No! I'd like to!' I say quickly. 'I really would. But ... but what about ...'

I can't even bring myself to say Kerry's name.

There's a tiny silence, during which Mum and Dad look at each other, and then away again.

'Kerry sends her love, of course!' says Mum brightly, as though she's changing the subject completely. She clears her throat. 'You know, she thought she might visit Hong Kong next year. Visit her father. She hasn't seen him for at least five years, and maybe it's time they ... had some time together.'

'Right,' I say dazedly. 'Good idea.'

I can't believe this. Everything's changed. It's as if the entire family has been thrown up in the air and has fallen down in different positions, and nothing's like it was before.

'We feel, Emma,' says Dad, and stops. 'We feel ... that perhaps we haven't been ... that perhaps we haven't always noticed ...' He breaks off and rubs his nose vigorously.

'Cappu-ccino,' says the waiter, planting a cup in front of me. 'Filter co-ffee, cappu-ccino ... coffee cake ... lemon cake ... chocolate-'

'Thank you!' interrupts Mum. 'Thank you so much. I think we can manage from here.' The waiter disappears again, and she looks at me. 'Emma, what we want to say is ... we're very proud of you.'

Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d, I think I'm going to cry.

'Right,' I manage.

'And we ...' Dad begins. 'That is to say, we both your mother and I ' He clears his throat. 'We've always ... and always will ... both of us ...'

He pauses, breathing rather hard. I don't quite dare say anything.

'What I'm trying to say, Emma,' he starts again. 'As I'm sure you ... as I'm sure we all ... which is to say ...'

He stops again, and wipes his perspiring face with a napkin.

'The fact of the matter is that ... is that ...'

'Oh, just tell your daughter you love her, Brian, for once in your b.l.o.o.d.y life!' cries Mum.

'I ... I ... love you, Emma!' says Dad in a choked-up voice. 'Oh Jesus.' He brushes roughly at his eye.

'I love you too, Dad,' I say, my throat tight. 'And you, Mum.'

'You see!' says Mum, dabbing at her eye. 'I knew it wasn't a mistake to come!' She clutches hold of my hand, and I clutch hold of Dad's hand, and for a moment we're in a kind of awkward group hug.

'You know ... we're all sacred links in the eternal circle of life,' I say with a sudden swell of emotion.

'What?' Both my parents look at me blankly.

'Er, never mind. Doesn't matter.' I release my hand, take a sip of cappuccino, and look up.

And my heart nearly stops.

Jack is standing at the door of the coffee shop.

TWENTY-TWO.

My heart is hammering in my chest as I stare at him through the gla.s.s 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.'