Can You Keep a Secret?

I tear my arm away in horror, and start clattering down the marble stairs. But as I reach the next floor, someone else grabs my arm.

'Hey, can you tell me which charity shops you go to?' It's a girl I don't even recognize. 'Because you always look really well dressed to me …'

'I adore Barbie dolls too!' Carol Finch from Accounts is suddenly in my path. 'Shall we start a club together, Emma?'

'I … I really have to go.'

I back away, then start running down the stairs. But people keep accosting me from all directions.

'I didn't realize I was a lesbian till I was thirty-three …'

'A lot of people are confused about religion. This is a leaflet about our Bible study group …'

'Leave me alone!' I yell in anguish. 'Everyone just leave me alone!'

I sprint for the entrance, the voices following me, echoing on the marble floor. As I'm frantically pushing against the heavy glass doors, Dave the security guard saunters up, and stares right at my breasts.

'They look all right to me, love,' he says encouragingly.

I finally get the door open, run outside and down the road, not looking right or left. At last I come to a halt, sink down on a bench and bury my head in my hands.

My body is still reverberating with shock.

I can barely form a coherent thought.

I have never been so completely and utterly embarrassed in all my life.

TWENTY

'Are you OK? Emma?'

I've been sitting on the bench for about five minutes, staring down at the pavement, my mind a whirl of confusion. Now there's a voice in my ear, above the everyday street sounds of people walking by and buses grinding and cars hooting. It's a man's voice. I open my eyes, blink in the sunlight and stare dazedly at a pair of green eyes that seem familiar.

Then suddenly I realize. It's Aidan from the smoothie bar.

'Is everything all right?' he's saying. 'Are you OK?'

For a few moments I can't quite reply. All my emotions have been scattered on the floor like a dropped tea tray, and I'm not sure which one to pick up first.

'I think that would have to be a no,' I say at last. 'I'm not OK. I'm not OK at all.'

'Oh.' He looks alarmed. 'Well … is there anything I can—'

'Would you be OK if all your secrets had been revealed on television by a man you trusted?' I say shakily. 'Would you be OK if you'd just been mortified in front of all your friends and colleagues and family?'

There's a bemused silence.

'Would you?'

'Er … probably not?' he hazards hurriedly.

'Exactly! I mean, how would you feel if someone revealed in public that you … you wore women's underwear?'

He turns pale with shock.

'I don't wear women's underwear!'

'I know you don't wear women's underwear!' I expostulate. 'Or rather, I don't know that you don't, but just assuming for a moment that you did. How would you like it if someone just told everyone in a so-called business interview on television?'

Aidan stares at me, as though his mind is suddenly putting two and two together.

'Wait a moment. That interview with Jack Harper. Is that what you're talking about? We had it on in the smoothie bar.'

'Oh great!' I throw my hands in the air. 'Just great! Because you know, it would be a shame if anyone in the entire universe had missed it.'

'So, that's you? Who reads fifteen horoscopes a day and lies about her …' He breaks off at my expression. 'Sorry. Sorry. You must be feeling very hurt.'

'Yes. I am. I'm feeling hurt. And angry. And embarrassed.'

And I'm confused, I add silently. I'm so confused and shocked and bewildered I feel as though I can barely keep my balance on this bench. In the space of a few minutes, my entire world has turned upside down.

I thought Jack loved me. I thought he—

I thought he and I—

A searing pain suddenly hits me, and I bury my head in my hands.

'So, how did he know so much about you?' Aidan's saying tentatively. 'Are you and he … an item?'

'We met on a plane.' I look up, trying to keep control of myself. 'And … I spent the entire journey telling him everything about myself. And then we went on a few dates, and I thought …' My voice is starting to jump about. 'I honestly thought it might be … you know.' I feel my cheeks flame crimson. 'The real thing. But the truth is, he was never interested in me, was he? Not really. He just wanted to find out what an ordinary girl-on-the-street was like. For his stupid target market. For his stupid new women's line.'

As the realization hits me properly for the first time, a tear rolls down my cheek, swiftly followed by another one.

Jack used me.

That's why he asked me out to dinner. That's why he was so fascinated by me. That's why he found everything I said so interesting. That's why he was gripped.

It wasn't love. It was business. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">