Can You Keep a Secret? (30 page)

'Oh. Oh God, yes,' says Lissy, suddenly full of remorse. 'Sorry. Emma. You must be feeling really …'

'Totally and utterly humiliated and betrayed?' I try to give a smile. 'Yup, that's pretty much how I feel.'

'Did anyone at the office see it, then?' says Lissy sympathetically.

'Did anyone at the office
see
it?' I wheel round. 'Lissy, they
all
saw it. They all knew it was me! And they were all laughing at me, and I just wanted to curl up and
die
…'

'Oh God,' says Lissy in distress. 'Really?'

'It was
awful
.' I close my eyes as fresh mortification washes over me. 'I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I have never felt more … exposed. The whole world knows I find G-strings uncomfortable and I don't really kick-box, and I've never read Dickens.' My voice is wobbling more and more, and then, with no warning, I give a huge sob. 'Oh God, Lissy. You were right. I feel such a complete …
fool
. He was just using me, right from the beginning. He was never really interested in me. I was just a … a market research project.'

'You don't know that!' she says in dismay.

'I do! Of course I do. That's why he was gripped. That's why he was so fascinated by everything I said. It wasn't because he loved me. It was because he realized he had his target customer, right next to him. The kind of normal, ordinary, girl-on-the-street he would never normally give the time of day to!' I give another huge sob. 'I mean, he said it on the television, didn't he? I'm just a nothing-special girl.'

'You are not,' says Lissy fiercely. 'You are
not
nothing-special!'

'I am! That's exactly what I am. I'm just an ordinary nothing. And I was so stupid, I believed it all. I honestly thought Jack loved me. I mean, maybe not exactly loved me.' I feel myself colour. 'But … you know. Felt about me like I felt about him.'

'I know.' Lissy looks like she wants to cry herself. 'I know you did.' She leans forward and gives me a huge hug.

Suddenly she draws awkwardly away. 'This isn't making you feel uncomfortable, is it? I mean, it's not … turning you on or anything—'

'Lissy, for the last time, I'm not a lesbian!' I cry in exasperation.

'OK!' she says hurriedly. 'OK. Sorry.' She gives me another tight hug, then stands up. 'Come on,' she says. 'You need a drink.'

We go onto the tiny, overgrown balcony which was described as 'spacious roof terrace' by the landlord when we first rented this flat, and sit in a patch of sun, drinking the schnapps which Lissy got duty-free last year. Each sip makes my mouth burn unbearably, but five seconds later sends a lovely soothing warmth all over my body.

'I should have known,' I say, staring into my glass. 'I should have known a big important millionaire like that would never really be interested in a girl like me.'

'I just can't believe it,' says Lissy, sighing for the thousandth time. 'I can't believe it was all made up. It was all so
romantic
. Changing his mind about going to America … and the bus … and bringing you that pink cocktail …'

'But that's the point.' I can feel tears rising again, and fiercely blink them back. 'That's what makes it so humiliating. He knew exactly what I would like. I told him on the plane I was bored with Connor. He knew I wanted excitement, and intrigue, and a big romance. He just fed me everything he knew I'd like. And I believed it – because I wanted to believe it.'

'You honestly think the whole thing was one big plan?' Lissy bites her lip.

'Of course it was a plan,' I say tearfully. 'He deliberately followed me around, he watched everything I did, he wanted to get into my life! Look at the way he came and poked around my bedroom. No wonder he seemed so bloody interested. I expect he was taking notes all the time. I expect he had a Dictaphone in his pocket. And I just … invited him in.' I take a deep gulp of schnapps and give a little shudder. 'I am never going to trust a man again. Never.'

'But he seemed so nice!' says Lissy dolefully. 'I just can't believe he was being so cynical.'

'Lissy …' I look up. 'The truth is, a man like that doesn't get to the top without being ruthless and trampling over people. It just doesn't happen.'

'Doesn't it?' She stares back at me, her brow crumpled. 'Maybe you're right. God, how depressing.'

'Is that Emma?' comes a piercing voice, and Jemima appears on the balcony in a white robe and face mask, her eyes narrowed furiously. 'So! Miss I-never-borrow-your-clothes. What have you got to say about my Prada slingbacks?'

Oh God. There's no point lying about it, is there?

'They're really pointy and uncomfortable?' I say with a little shrug, and Jemima inhales sharply.

'I knew it! I knew it all along. You
do
borrow my clothes. What about my Joseph jumper? What about my Gucci bag?'

'
Which
Gucci bag?' I shoot back defiantly.

For moment Jemima flounders for words.

'All of them!' she says at last. 'You know, I could sue you for this. I could take you to the cleaners!' She brandishes a piece of paper at me. 'I've got a list here of items of apparel which I fully suspect have been worn by someone other than me during the last three months—'

'Oh shut up about your stupid clothes,' says Lissy. 'Emma's really upset. She's been completely betrayed and humiliated by the man she thought loved her.'

'Well, surprise, surprise, let me just faint with shock,' says Jemima tartly. 'I could have told you that was going to happen. I
did
tell you! Never tell a man all about yourself, it's bound to lead to trouble. Did I not warn you?'

'You said she wouldn't get a rock on her finger!' exclaims Lissy. 'You didn't say, he will pitch up on television, telling the nation all her private secrets. You know, Jemima, you could be a bit more sympathetic.'

'No, Lissy, she's right,' I say miserably. 'She was completely right all along. If I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut, then none of this would have happened.' I reach for the schnapps bottle and morosely pour myself another glass. 'Relationships
are
a battle. They
are
a chess game. And what did I do? I just threw all my chess pieces down on the board at once, and said, "Here! Have them all!"' I take a gulp of my drink. 'The truth is, men and women should tell each other nothing.
Nothing
.'

'I couldn't agree more,' says Jemima. 'I'm planning to tell my future husband as little as possible—' She breaks off as the cordless phone in her hand gives a shrill ring.

'Hi!' she says, switching it on. 'Camilla? Oh. Er … OK. Just hang on a moment.'

She puts her hand over the receiver and looks at me, wide-eyed. 'It's Jack!' she mouths.

I stare back in utter shock.

Somehow I'd almost forgotten Jack existed in real life. All I can see is that face on the television screen, smiling and nodding and slowly leading me to my humiliation.

'Tell him Emma doesn't want to speak to him!' hisses Lissy.

'No! She
should
speak to him,' hisses back Jemima. 'Otherwise he'll think he's won.'

'But surely—'

'Give it to me!' I say, and grab the phone out of Jemima's hand, my heart thumping. 'Hi,' I say, in as curt a tone as I can muster.

'Emma, it's me,' comes Jack's familiar voice, and with no warning, I feel a rush of emotion which almost overwhelms me. I want to cry. I want to hit him, hurt him …

But somehow, I keep control of myself.

'I never want to speak to you again,' I say. I switch off the phone, breathing rather hard.

'Well done!' says Lissy.

An instant later the phone rings again.

'Please, Emma,' says Jack, 'just listen for a moment. I know you must be very upset. But if you just give me a second to explain—'

'Didn't you hear me?' I exclaim, my face flushing. 'You used me and you humiliated me and I never want to speak to you again, or see you, or hear you or … or …'

'Taste you,' hisses Jemima, nodding urgently.

'… or touch you again. Never ever. Ever.' I switch off the phone, march inside and yank the line out of the wall. Then, with trembling hands, I get my mobile out of my bag and, just as it begins to ring, switch it off.

As I emerge on the balcony again, I'm still half shaking with shock. I can't quite believe it's all ended like this. In one day, my entire perfect romance has crumbled into nothing.

'Are you OK?' says Lissy anxiously.

'I'm fine. I think.' I sink onto a chair. 'A bit shaky.'

'Now, Emma,' says Jemima, examining one of her cuticles. 'I don't want to rush you. But you know what you have to do, don't you?'

'What?'

'You have to get your revenge!' She looks up and fixes me with a determined gaze. 'You have to make him pay.'

'Oh no.' Lissy pulls a face. 'Isn't revenge really undignified? Isn't it better just to walk away?'

'What good is walking away?' retorts Jemima. 'Will walking away teach him a lesson? Will walking away make him wish he'd never crossed you?'

'Emma and I have always agreed we'd rather keep the moral high ground,' says Lissy determinedly. '"Living well is the best revenge." George Herbert.'

Jemima stares at her blankly for a few seconds.

'So anyway,' she says at last, turning back to me. 'I'd be delighted to help. Revenge is actually quite a speciality of mine, though I say it myself …'

I avoid Lissy's eyes.

'What did you have in mind?'

'Scrape his car, shred his suits, sew fish inside his curtains and wait for them to rot …' Jemima reels off instantly, as though reciting poetry.

'Did you learn that at finishing school?' says Lissy, rolling her eyes.

'I'm being a feminist,
actually
,' retorts Jemima. 'We women have to stand up for our rights. You know, before she married my father, Mummy went out with this scientist chap who practically jilted her. He changed his mind three weeks before the wedding, can you believe it? So one night she crept into his lab and pulled out all the plugs of his stupid machines. His whole research was ruined! She always says, that taught Emerson!'

'Emerson?' says Lissy, staring at her in disbelief. 'As in … Emerson Davies?'

'That's right! Davies.'

'Emerson Davies who nearly discovered a cure for smallpox?'

'Well, he shouldn't have messed Mummy about, should he?' says Jemima, lifting her chin mutinously. She turns to me. 'Another of Mummy's tips is chilli oil. You somehow arrange to have sex with the chap again, and then you say. "How about a little massage oil?" And you rub it into his … you know.' Her eyes sparkle. 'That'll hurt him where it counts!'

'Your
mother
told you this?' says Lissy.

'Yes,' says Jemima. 'It was rather sweet, actually. On my eighteenth birthday she sat me down and said we should have a little chat about men and women—'

Lissy is staring at her incredulously.

'In which she instructed you to rub chilli oil into men's genitals?'

'Only if they treat you badly,' says Jemima in annoyance. 'What is your
problem
, Lissy? Do you think you should just let men walk all over you and get away with it? Great blow for feminism.'

'I'm not saying that,' says Lissy. 'I just wouldn't get my revenge with … chilli oil!'

'Well, what would you do then, clever clogs?' says Jemima, putting her hands on her hips.

'OK,' says Lissy. '
If
I was going to stoop so low as get my revenge, which I never would because personally I think it's a huge mistake …' She pauses for breath. 'I'd do exactly what he did. I'd expose one of
his
secrets.'

'Actually … that's rather good,' says Jemima grudgingly.

'Humiliate
him
,' says Lissy, with a tiny air of vindication. 'Embarrass
him
. See how he likes it.'

They both turn and look at me expectantly.

'But I don't know any of his secrets,' I say.

'You must do!' says Jemima.

'Of course you do!'

'I don't,' I say, feeling a fresh humiliation. 'Lissy, you had it right all along. Our relationship was completely one-sided. I shared all my secrets with him – but he didn't share any of his with me. He didn't tell me anything. We weren't soulmates. I was a completely deluded moron.'

'Emma, you weren't a moron,' says Lissy, putting a sympathetic hand on mine. 'You were just trusting.'

'Trusting – moron – it's the same thing.'

'You must know
something
!' says Jemima. 'You slept with him, for goodness sake! He must have some secret. Some weak point.'

'An Achilles' heel,' puts in Lissy, and Jemima gives her an odd look.

'It doesn't have to be to do with his feet,' she says, and turns to me, pulling a 'Lissy's lost it' face. 'It could be anything. Anything at all. Think back!'

I close my eyes obediently and cast my mind back. But my mind's swirling a bit, from all that schnapps. Secrets … Jack's secrets … think back …

Scotland. Suddenly a coherent thought passes through my mind. I open my eyes, feeling a tingle of exhilaration. I do know one of his secrets. I do!

'What?' says Jemima avidly. 'Have you remembered something?'

'He …' I stop, feeling torn.

I did make a promise to Jack. I did promise.

But then, so what? So bloody what? My chest swells in emotion again. Why on earth am I keeping any stupid promise to him? It's not like he kept my secrets to
himself
, is it?

'He was in Scotland!' I say triumphantly. 'The first time we met after the plane, he asked me to keep it a secret that he was in Scotland.'

'Why did he do that?' says Lissy.

'I dunno.'

'What was he doing in Scotland?' puts in Jemima.

'I dunno.'

There's a pause.

'Hmm,' says Jemima kindly. 'It's not the most embarrassing secret in the world, is it? I mean, plenty of smart people live in Scotland. Haven't you got anything better? Like … does he wear a chest wig?'

'A chest wig!' Lissy gives an explosive snort of laughter. 'Or a toupee!'

'Of course he doesn't wear a chest wig.
Or
a toupee,' I retort indignantly. Do they honestly think I'd go out with a man who wore a
toupee
?