Can You Keep a Secret? (12 page)

Why does he have to stand right
there
? Doesn't he have some big important office he can go to?

Anyway. It doesn't matter. I'll just … take a different route. Very slowly I take a few steps back down the stairs, trying not to click my heels on the marble or move suddenly in case I attract his attention. Moira from Accounts walks past as I'm carefully stepping backwards and gives me an odd look, but I don't care. I have to get away.

As soon as I'm out of his view I feel myself relax, and walk more quickly back down to the foyer. I'll go by lift, instead. No problem. I step confidently across the floor, and I'm right in the middle of the huge expanse of marble when I freeze.

'That's right.' It's his voice again. And it seems to be getting nearer. Or am I just paranoid?

'… think I'll take a good look at …'

My head swivels around. Where is he now? Which direction is he going in?

'… really think that …'

Shit. He's coming down the stairs. There's nowhere to hide!

Without thinking twice I almost run to the glass doors, push them open, and hurry out of the building. I scuttle down the steps, run about a hundred yards down the road and stop, panting.

This is not going well.

I stand on the pavement for a few minutes in the morning sunshine, trying to estimate how long he will stay in the foyer, then cautiously approach the glass doors again. New tactic. I will walk to my office so incredibly quickly, I can't catch anyone's eye. So it won't matter if I pass Jack Harper or not. I will simply stride along without looking right or left and oh my God there he is, talking to Dave.

Without quite meaning to, I find myself running back down the steps and along the street again.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't stay out here on the street all day. I have to get to my desk. Come on, think. There must be a way round this. There must be—

Yes! I have a totally brilliant idea. This will definitely work.

Three minutes later I approach the doors of the Panther building once more, totally engrossed in an article in
The Times
. I can't see anything around me. And no-one can see my face. This is the perfect disguise!

I push the door open with my shoulder, walk across the foyer and up the stairs, all without looking up. As I stride along the corridor towards the marketing department, I feel all cocooned and safe, buried in my
Times
. I should do this more often. No-one can get me in here. It's a really reassuring feeling, almost as though I'm invisible, or—

'Ow! Sorry!'

I've crashed into someone. Shit. I lower my paper, to see Paul staring at me, rubbing his head.

'Emma, what the fuck are you doing?'

'I was just reading
The Times
,' I say feebly. 'I'm really sorry.'

'All right. Anyway, where the hell have you been? I want you to do teas and coffees at the departmental meeting. Ten o'clock.'

'What teas and coffees?' I say, puzzled. They don't usually have any refreshments at the departmental meeting. In fact, usually only about six people turn up.

'We're having teas and coffees today,' he says. 'And biscuits. All right? Oh, and Jack Harper's coming along.'

'What?' I stare at him in consternation.

'Jack Harper's coming along,' repeats Paul impatiently. 'So hurry up.'

'Do I have to go?' I say before I can stop myself.

'What?' Paul stares at me with a blank frown.

'I was just wondering if I … have to go, or whether …' I tail off feebly.

'Emma, if you can serve tea and coffee by telepathy,' says Paul sarcastically, 'then you're more than welcome to stay at your desk. If not, would you most kindly get your arse in gear and up to the conference room. You know, for someone who wants to advance their career … 'He shakes his head and stalks off.

How can this day have gone so wrong already and I haven't even sat down yet?

I dump my bag and jacket at my desk, hurry back down the corridors to the lifts, and press the Up button. A moment later, one pings in front of me, and the doors open.

No. No.

This is a bad dream.

Jack Harper is standing alone in the lift, in old jeans and a brown cashmere sweater.

Before I can stop myself I take a startled step backwards. Jack Harper puts his mobile phone away, tilts his head to one side and gives me a quizzical look.

'Are you getting into the elevator?' he says mildly.

I'm stuffed. What can I say? I can't say 'No, I just pressed the button for fun, haha!'

'Yes,' I say at last and walk into the lift with stiff legs. 'Yes I am.'

The doors close, and we begin to travel upwards in silence. I've got a knot of tension in my stomach.

'Erm, Mr Harper,' I say awkwardly, and he looks up. 'I just wanted to apologize for my … for the, um, shirking episode the other day. It won't happen again.'

'You have drinkable coffee now,' says Jack Harper, raising his eyebrows. 'So you shouldn't need to go to Starbucks, at any rate.'

'I know. I'm really sorry,' I say, my face hot. 'And may I assure you, that was the very last time I will ever do such a thing.' I clear my throat. 'I am fully committed to the Panther Corporation, and I look forward to serving this company as best as I can, giving one hundred per cent, every day, now and in the future.'

I almost want to add 'Amen'.

'Really.' Jack looks at me, his mouth twitching. 'That's … great.' He thinks for a moment. 'Emma, can you keep a secret?'

'Yes,' I say apprehensively. 'What is it?'

Jack leans close and whispers, 'I used to play hookey too.'

'What?' I stare at him.

'In my first job,' he continues in his normal voice. 'I had a friend I used to hang out with. We had a code, too.' His eyes twinkle. 'One of us would ask the other to bring him the Leopold file.'

'What was the Leopold file?'

'It didn't exist.' He grins. 'It was just an excuse to get away from our desks.'

'Oh. Oh right!'

Suddenly I feel a bit better.

Jack Harper used to
skive
? I would have thought he was too busy being a brilliant creative dynamic genius, or whatever he is.

The lift stops at floor 3 and the doors open, but no-one gets in.

'So, your colleagues seemed a very pleasant lot,' says Jack as we start travelling up again. 'A very friendly, industrious team. Are they like that all the time?'

'Absolutely!' I say at once. 'We enjoy cooperating with one another, in an integrated, team-based … um … operational …' I'm trying to think of another long word when I make the mistake of catching his eye.

He
knows
this is bullshit, doesn't he?

Oh God. What is the point?

'OK.' I lean against the lift wall. 'In real life, we don't behave anything like that. Paul usually shouts at me six times a day, and Nick and Artemis hate each other, and we don't usually sit around discussing literature. We were all faking it.'

'You amaze me.' His mouth twitches. 'The atmosphere in the admin department also seemed very false. My suspicions were aroused when two employees spontaneously started singing the Panther Corporation song. I didn't even know there
was
a Panther Corporation song.'

'Neither did I,' I say in surprise. 'Is it any good?'

'What do you think?' He raises his eyebrows comically and I give a little giggle.

It's bizarre, but the atmosphere between us isn't remotely awkward any more. In fact, it almost feels like we're old friends or something.

'How about this Corporate Family Day?' he says. 'Looking forward to it?'

'Like having teeth pulled out,' I say bluntly.

'I got that vibe.' He nods, looking amused. 'And what …' He hesitates. 'What do people think about me?' He casually rumples his hair. 'You don't have to answer if you don't want to.'

'No, everyone likes you!' I think for a few moments. 'Although … some people think your friend is creepy.'

'Who, Sven?' Jack stares at me for a minute, then throws back his head and laughs. 'I can assure you, Sven is one of my oldest, closest friends, and he's not in the least bit creepy. In fact—'

He breaks off as the lift doors ping. We both snap back into impassive expressions and move slightly away from each other. The doors open, and my stomach gives a lurch.

Connor is standing on the other side.

As he sees Jack Harper his face lights up as though he can't believe his luck.

'Hi there!' I say, trying to sound natural.

'Hi,' he says, his eyes shining with excitement, and walks into the lift.

'Hello,' says Jack pleasantly. 'Which floor would you like?'

'Nine, please.' Connor swallows. 'Mr Harper, may I quickly introduce myself?' He eagerly holds out his hand. 'Connor Martin from Research. You're coming to visit our department later on today.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Connor,' says Jack kindly. 'Research is vital for a company like ours.'

'You're so right!' says Connor, looking thrilled. 'In fact, I'm looking forward to discussing with you the latest research findings on Panther Sportswear. We've come up with some very fascinating results involving customer preferences on fabric thickness. You'll be amazed!'

'I'm … sure I will,' says Jack. 'I look forward to it.'

Connor gives me an excited grin.

'You've already met Emma Corrigan from our marketing department?' he says.

'Yes, we've met.' Jack's eyes gleam at me.

We travel for a few seconds in an awkward silence.

This is weird.

No. It's not weird. It's fine.

'How are we doing for time?' says Connor. He glances at his watch and in slight horror, I see Jack's eyes falling on it.

Oh God.

'…
I gave him a really nice watch, but he insists on wearing this orange digital thing
…'

'Wait a minute!' says Jack, dawn breaking over his face. He stares at Connor as through seeing him for the first time. 'Wait a minute. You're Ken.'

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh—

'It's Connor,' says Connor puzzledly. 'Connor Martin.'

'I'm sorry!' Jack hits his head with his fist. 'Connor. Of course. And you two –' he gestures to me '– are an item?'

Connor looks uncomfortable.

'I can assure you, sir, that at work our relationship is strictly professional. However, in a private context, Emma and I are … yes, having a personal relationship.'

'That's wonderful!' says Jack encouragingly, and Connor beams, like a flower blossoming in the sun.

'In fact,' he adds proudly, 'Emma and I have just decided to move in together.'

'Is that so?' Jack shoots me a look of genuine surprise. 'That's … great news. When did you make that decision?'

'Just a couple of days ago,' says Connor. 'At the airport.'

'At the airport,' echoes Jack Harper after a short silence. 'Very interesting.'

I can't look at Jack Harper. I'm staring desperately at the floor. Why can't this bloody lift go quicker?

'Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy together,' Jack Harper says to Connor. 'You seem very compatible.'

'Oh we are!' says Connor at once. 'We both love jazz, for a start.'

'Is that so?' says Jack thoughtfully. 'You know, I can't think of anything nicer in the world than a shared love of jazz.'

He's taking the piss. This is unbearable.

'Really?' says Connor eagerly.

'Absolutely.' Jack nods. 'I'd say jazz, and … Woody Allen films.'

'We love Woody Allen films!' says Connor in amazed delight. 'Don't we, Emma!'

'Yes,' I say a little hoarsely. 'Yes, we do.'

'Now Connor, tell me,' says Jack in confidential tones. 'Did you ever find Emma's …'

If he says 'G spot' I will die. I will die. I will
die
.

'… presence here distracting? Because I can imagine I would!' Jack gives Connor a friendly smile, but Connor doesn't smile back.

'As I said, sir,' he says, a little stiffly, 'Emma and I operate on a strictly professional basis whilst at work. We would never dream of abusing the company's time for our own … ends.' He flushes. 'I mean, by ends, I don't mean … I meant …'

'I'm glad to hear it,' says Jack, looking amused.

God, why does Connor have to be such a
goody-goody
?

The lift pings, and I feel relief drain over me. Thank God, at last I can escape—

'Looks like we're all going to the same place,' says Jack Harper with a grin. 'Connor, why don't you lead the way?'

I can't cope with this. I just can't cope. As I pour out cups of tea and coffee for members of the marketing department, I'm outwardly calm, smiling at everyone and even chatting pleasantly. But inside I'm all unsettled and confused. I don't want to admit it to myself, but seeing Connor through Jack Harper's eyes has thrown me.

I love Connor, I tell myself over and over. I didn't mean any of what I said on the plane. I love him. I run my eyes over his face, trying to reassure myself. There's no doubt about it. Connor is good-looking by any standards. He glows with good health. His hair is shiny and his eyes are blue and he's got a gorgeous dimple when he smiles.

Jack Harper, on the other hand, looks kind of weary and dishevelled. He's got shadows under his eyes and his hair is all over the place.
And
there's a hole in his jeans.

But even so. It's as if he's some kind of magnet. I'm sitting here, my attention firmly on the tea trolley, and yet somehow I can't keep my eyes off him.

It's because of the plane, I keep telling myself. It's just because we were in a traumatic situation together; that's why. No other reason.

'We need more lateral thinking, people,' Paul is saying. The Panther Bar is simply not performing as it should. Connor, you have the latest research statistics?'

Connor stands up, and I feel a flip of apprehension on his behalf. I can tell he's really nervous from the way he keeps fiddling with his cuffs.

'That's right, Paul.' He picks up a clipboard and clears his throat. 'In our latest survey, 1,000 teenagers were questioned on aspects of the Panther Bar. Unfortunately, the results were inconclusive.'

He presses his remote control. A graph appears on the screen behind him, and we all stare at it obediently.