Can You Keep a Secret?(76)
Author: Sophie Kinsella

‘He’d seen the trailer for the interview,’ says Lissy. ‘He recognized Jack and just wondered if you knew about it. And he said …’ She pauses. ‘He really wanted to talk to you about a few things.’

‘Oh.’ I stare at my notepad, where I’ve doodled a huge spiral over a telephone number I was supposed to be keeping.

‘Anyway, he and your mum are going to be watching it,’ says Lissy. ‘And your grandpa.’

Great. Just great. The entire world is watching Jack on television. The entire world except me.

When I’ve put the phone down, I go and get myself a coffee from the new machine, which actually does make a very nice café au lait. I come back and look around the quiet office, then go and pour orange juice into Artemis’s spider plant. And some photocopier toner for good measure.

Then I feel a bit mean. It’s not the plant’s fault, after all.

‘Sorry,’ I say out loud, and touch one of its leaves. ‘It’s just your owner is a real cow. But then, you probably knew that.’

‘Talking to your mystery man?’ comes a sarcastic voice from behind me, and I turn round in shock, to see Connor standing in the doorway.

‘Connor!’ I say. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m on my way to watch the TV interview. But I just wanted a quick word.’ He takes a few steps into the office, and fixes me with an accusing stare. ‘So. You lied to me.’

Oh shit. Has Connor guessed? Did he see something at the Corporate Family Day?

‘What do you mean?’ I say nervously.

‘I’ve just had a little chat with Tristan from Design.’ Connor’s voice swells with indignation. ‘He’s gay! You’re not going out with him at all, are you?’

He cannot be serious. Connor didn’t seriously think I was going out with Tristan from Design, did he? I mean, Tristan could not look more gay if he wore leopardskin hotpants, carried a handbag, and walked around humming Barbra Streisand hits.

‘No,’ I say, managing to keep a straight face. ‘I’m not going out with Tristan.’

‘Well!’ says Connor, nodding as though he’s scored a hundred points and doesn’t quite know what to do with them. ‘Well. I just don’t see why you feel it necessary to lie to me.’ He lifts his chin in wounded dignity. ‘That’s all. I just would have thought we could be a little honest with each other.’

‘Connor, it’s just … it’s complicated. OK?’

‘Fine. Whatever. It’s your boat, Emma.’

There’s a slight pause.

‘It’s my what?’ I say puzzledly. ‘My boat?’

‘Court,’ he says with a flash of annoyance. ‘I meant to say … the ball’s in your court.’

‘Oh right,’ I say, none the wiser. ‘Er … OK. I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘Good.’ He gives me his most wounded-martyr look, and starts walking away.

‘Wait!’ I say suddenly. ‘Hang on a minute! Connor, could you do me a real favour?’ I wait until he turns, then pull a wheedling face. ‘Could you possibly man the phones here while I quickly go and watch Jack Harper’s interview?’

I know Connor isn’t my number one fan at the moment. But I don’t exactly have a lot of choice.

‘Could I do what?’ Connor stares at me in astonishment.

‘Could you man the phones? Just for half an hour. I’d be so incredibly grateful …’

‘I can’t believe you’re even asking me that!’ says Connor incredulously. ‘You know how important Jack Harper is to me! Emma, I really don’t know what you’ve turned into.’

After he’s stalked off, I sit there for twenty minutes. I take several messages for Paul, one for Nick and one for Caroline. I file a couple of letters. I address a couple of envelopes. And then suddenly, I’ve had it.

This is stupid. This is more than stupid. It’s ridiculous. I love Jack. He loves me. I should be there, supporting him. I pick up my coffee and hurry along the corridor. The meeting room is crowded with people, but I edge in at the back, and squeeze between two guys who aren’t even watching Jack, but are discussing some football match.

‘What are you doing here?’ says Artemis, as I arrive at her side. ‘What about the phones?’

‘No taxation without representation,’ I hear myself responding coolly, which perhaps isn’t exactly appropriate (I’m not even sure what it means), but has the desired effect of shutting her up.

I crane my neck so I can see over everyone’s heads, and my eyes focus on the screen — and there he is. Sitting on a chair in a studio, in jeans and a white T-shirt. There’s a bright blue backdrop and the words ‘Business Inspirations’ behind him, and two smart-looking interviewers sitting opposite him.

There he is. The man I love.

This is the first time I’ve seen him since we slept together, it suddenly occurs to me. But his face is as warm as ever, and his eyes look all dark and glossy under the studio lights.

Oh God, I want to kiss him.

If no-one else was here I would go up to the television set and kiss it. I honestly would.

‘What have they asked him so far?’ I murmur to Artemis.