“I’m extremely sorry to interrupt, sir,” he says, glancing around at my family as though trying to discern any reason at all why Jack Harper might be having a picnic with us. “But Malcolm St. John is here and would like a very brief word …”
“Of course,” says Jack, and smiles politely at Mum. “If you could just excuse me a moment.”
As he carefully balances his glass on his plate and gets to his feet, the whole family exchanges confused glances.
“Giving him a second chance, then!” calls out Dad jocularly to Cyril.
“I’m sorry?” says Cyril, taking a couple of steps toward us.
“That chap Jack,” says Dad, gesturing to Jack, who’s talking to a guy dressed in a navy blazer. “You’re thinking of taking him on again, are you?”
Cyril looks stiffly from Dad to me and back again.
“It’s … OK, Cyril!” I call lightly. “Dad, shut up, OK?” I mutter. “He owns the company.”
“What?” Everyone turns to face me.
“He owns the company,” I say, my face hot. “So just … don’t make any jokes about him.”
“The man in the jester’s suit owns the company?” says Mum, looking in surprise at Cyril.
“No! Jack does! Or at least, some great big chunk of it …” They’re all still sitting there, uncomprehending. “Jack’s one of the founders of the Panther Corporation!” I hiss in frustration. “He was just trying to be modest!”
“Are you saying that guy is … Jack Harper?” says Nev in disbelief.
“Yes!”
There’s a flabbergasted silence. As I look around, I see that a piece of chicken drumstick has fallen out of Kerry’s mouth.
“Jack Harper … the multimillionaire,” says Dad, just to make sure.
“Multimillionaire?” Mum looks totally confused. “So … does he still want the quiche?”
“Of course he doesn’t want the quiche!” says Dad testily. “What would he want a quiche for? He can buy a million bloody quiches!”
Mum’s eyes are darting around the picnic rug in slight agitation.
“Quick!” she says suddenly. “Put the crisps into a bowl. There’s one in the hamper—”
“They’re fine as they are—” I begin.
“Millionaires don’t eat crisps from the packet!” She plops the crisps in a plastic bowl and hastily starts straightening the rug. “Brian! Crumbs on your beard!”
“So, how the hell do you know Jack Harper?” says Nev.
“I … I just know him.” I color a little. “We’ve worked together and stuff, and he’s kind of become a … a friend. But listen, don’t do anything differently,” I say. Jack has just shaken the hand of the blazer guy and is coming back toward the picnic rug. “Just act the way you were before …”
Oh, God. Why am I even bothering? As Jack approaches, my entire family is sitting bolt upright, awestruck.
“Hi!” I say as naturally as possible, then glare around at them.
“So … Jack!” says Dad, sounding self-conscious. “Have another drink! Is this wine all right for you? Because we can easily nip to the wine shop, get something with a proper vintage—”
“It’s great, thanks,” says Jack, looking surprised.
“Jack, what else can I get you to eat?” says Mum, flustered. “I’ve got some gourmet salmon rolls somewhere.… Emma, give Jack your plate!” she suddenly snaps. “He can’t eat off paper!”
“So … Jack,” says Nev in a matey voice. “What does a guy like you drive, then? No, don’t tell me.” He lifts his hand. “A Porsche. Am I right?”
Jack looks at me with a quizzical expression, and I gaze back beseechingly, trying to convey that I’m really sorry, that basically I want to die …
“I take it my cover’s been blown,” he says with a grin.
“Jack!” exclaims Kerry, who has totally regained her composure. She gives him an ingratiating smile and thrusts out her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Absolutely!” says Jack. “Although … didn’t we just meet?”
“As professionals,” says Kerry smoothly. “One business owner to another. Here’s my card, and if you ever need any help with your office furniture requirements, please give me a call. Or if you wanted to meet up socially … perhaps the four of us could go out sometime! Play a round? Couldn’t we, Emma?”
What? Since when have Kerry and I ever socialized together?
“Emma and I are practically sisters, of course,” she adds in sweet tones, putting her arm around me. “I’m sure she’s told you.”
“Oh, she told me a few things,” says Jack, his expression now unreadable. He takes a bite of roast chicken.
“We grew up together. We shared everything …” Kerry gives me a squeeze. Her perfume is nearly choking me.
“Isn’t that nice!” says Mum in pleasure. “I wish I had a camera!”
Jack doesn’t reply. He’s just regarding Kerry with raised eyebrows.
“We couldn’t be closer!” Kerry’s smile grows even more fawning. I try to move away, but she’s squeezing me so hard, her talons are digging into my flesh. “Could we, Ems?”
Jack reaches for his glass, takes a sip, then looks up. “So … I guess that must have been a pretty tough decision for you when you had to turn Emma down,” he says to Kerry in conversational tones. “You two being so close and all.”
“Turn her down?” Kerry gives a tinkling little laugh. “I don’t know what on earth you—”
“That time she applied for work experience in your firm and you turned her down,” says Jack, and takes another bite of chicken.
I can’t quite move.
That was a secret. That was supposed to be a secret.
“What?” says Dad, half laughing. “Emma applied to Kerry?”
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about!” says Kerry, going a little pink.
“I think I have this right …” says Jack. “She offered to work for no money … but you still said no.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Interesting decision.”
No one speaks. Dad’s jocular smile is slowly fading.
“But, of course, fortunate for us here at the Panther Corporation,” Jack adds. “We’re very glad Emma didn’t make a career in the office furniture industry. So I guess I have to thank you, Kerry! As one business owner to another. You did us a big favor!”
Kerry is completely puce.
“Kerry, is this true?” says Mum in a sharp voice. “You wouldn’t help Emma when she asked?”
“You never told us about this, Emma.” Dad looks completely taken aback.
“I was embarrassed, OK?”
“Bit cheeky of Emma to ask,” says Nev, taking a huge bite of pork pie. “Using family connections. That’s what you said, wasn’t it, Kerry?”
“ ‘Cheeky’?” echoes Mum in disbelief. “Kerry, if you remember, we lent you the money to start that company. You wouldn’t have a company without this family.”
“It wasn’t like that …” says Kerry, darting an annoyed look at Nev. “There’s been a … a crossed wire! Some confusion!” She pats her hair and gives me an ingratiating smile. “Obviously I’d be delighted to help you with your career, Ems! You should have said before! Just call me at the office. I’ll do anything I can …”
I gaze back at her, full of sudden loathing. I cannot believe she is trying to wriggle out of this. She is the most two-faced cow in the entire world.
“There’s no crossed wire, Kerry,” I say as calmly as I can. “We both know exactly what happened. I asked you for help and you wouldn’t give it to me. And fine—it’s your company and it was your decision and you had every right to make it. But don’t try to say it didn’t happen, because it did.”
“Emma!” says Kerry, trying to reach for my hand. “Silly girl! I had no idea! If I’d known it was important …”
If she’d known it was important? How could she not have known it was important?
I jerk my hand away. I can feel a
ll the old hurt and humiliation building up inside me, rising like hot water inside a pipe, until suddenly the pressure is unbearable.
“Yes, you did!” I hear myself exclaiming. “You knew exactly what you were doing! You knew how desperate I was! Ever since you arrived in this family, you’ve tried to squash me down. You tease me about my crap career. You boast about yourself. I spend my entire life feeling small and stupid. Well, fine. You win, Kerry! You’re the star and I’m not. You’re the success and I’m the failure. But just don’t pretend to be my best friend, OK? Because you’re not, and you never will be!”
I finish, and look at her gobsmacked face. I have a horrible feeling I might burst into tears any moment.
I meet Jack’s eye and he gives me a way-to-go smile. Then I risk a glance at Mum and Dad. They’re both looking paralyzed, like they don’t know what on earth to do.
The thing is, our family just doesn’t do loud, emotional outbursts.
In fact, I’m not entirely sure what to do next myself.
“So, um, I’ll be going, then,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ll be … off! Come on, Jack. We’ve got work to do.”
With wobbly legs, I turn on my heel and head off, stumbling slightly on the grass. Adrenaline is pumping through my body. I’m so wound up, I barely know what I’m doing.
“That was fantastic, Emma!” comes Jack’s voice in my ear. “You were great! Absolutely … logistical assessment,” he adds more loudly as we pass Cyril.
“I’ve never spoken like that in my life!” I say. “I’ve never … operational management,” I quickly add as we pass a couple of people from Accounts.
“I guessed as much,” he says, shaking his head. “Jesus, that cousin of yours … valid assessment of the market.”
“She’s a total … spreadsheet,” I say quickly as we pass Connor. “So … I’ll get that typed up for you, Mr. Harper.”
Somehow we make it into the house and up the stairs. Jack leads me along a corridor, produces a key, and opens a door. And we’re in a room. A large, light cream-colored room. With a big double bed in it. The door closes, and suddenly all my nerves return in a whoosh. This is it. Finally, this is it. Jack and me. Alone in a room. With a bed.
Suddenly I catch sight of myself in a gilded mirror, and gasp in dismay. I’d forgotten I was in the stupid Snow White costume. My face is red and blotchy, my eyes are welling up, hair is all over the place, and my bra strap is showing.
This is so not how I thought I was looking.
“Emma, I’m really sorry I waded in there.” Jack’s looking at me ruefully. “I was way out of line. I had no right to butt in like that. I just … That cousin of yours got under my skin—”
“No!” I interrupt, turning to face him. “It was good! I’ve never told Kerry what I thought of her before! Ever! It was … it was …” I trail off, breathing hard.
For a still moment there’s silence. Jack’s gazing at my flushed face. My rib cage is rising and falling; blood is beating in my ears. Then suddenly he bends forward and kisses me.
His mouth is opening mine, and he’s already tugging the elastic sleeves of my Snow White costume down off my shoulders and unhooking my bra. I’m fumbling for his shirt buttons. His mouth reaches my nipple, and I’m starting to gasp with excitement when he pulls me down onto the sun-warmed carpet.
Oh, my God, this is quick. He’s ripping off my knickers. His hands are … His fingers are … I’m panting helplessly … We’re going so fast I can barely register what’s happening. This is nothing like Connor. This is nothing like I’ve ever—A minute ago I was standing at the door, fully clothed, and now I’m already—he’s already—
“Wait,” I suddenly manage to say. “Wait, Jack. I just need to tell you something.”
“What?” Jack looks at me with urgent, aroused eyes. “What is it?”
“I don’t know any tricks,” I whisper.
“You don’t what?” He pulls away, looking baffled.
“Tricks! I don’t know any tricks!” I say defensively. “You know, you’ve probably had sex with zillions of supermodels and gymnasts and they know all sorts of amazing …” I trail off at his expression. “Never mind,” I say quickly. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”
“I’m … intrigued!” says Jack. “Which particular tricks did you have in mind?”
Why did I ever open my stupid mouth? Why? “I didn’t!” I say, growing hot. “That’s the whole point—I don’t know any tricks—”
“Neither do I,” says Jack, totally deadpan. “I don’t know one trick.”
I feel a sudden giggle rise inside me. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. Not one.” He pauses thoughtfully, running one finger around my shoulder. “Oh, OK. Maybe one.”
“What?” I say at once.
“Well …” He looks at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “No.”
“Tell me!” And now I can’t help laughing out loud.
“Show, not tell,” he murmurs against my ear, and pulls me toward him. “Did nobody ever teach you that?”
Eighteen
I’m in love.
I, Emma Corrigan, am in love.
For the first time ever in my entire life, I’m totally, one hundred percent in love! I spent all night with Jack at the Panther mansion. I woke up in his arms. We had sex about ninety-five times, and it was just … perfect. (And somehow tricks didn’t even seem to come into it. Which was a bit of a relief.)
But it’s not just the sex. It’s everything. It’s the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It’s the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me that I normally try to hide from any man for as long as possible … and he loves me anyway.
So he didn’t exactly say he loved me. But he said something even better. I still keep rolling it blissfully around my head. We were lying there idly this morning when I suddenly said, without quite intending to, “Jack … how come you remembered about Kerry turning me down for work experience?”
“What?”
“How come you remembered about Kerry turning me down?” I swiveled my head toward him. “And … not just that. Every single thing I told you on that plane. Every little detail. About work, about my family, about Connor … everything. You remember it all. And I just … don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?” said Jack with a frown.
“I don’t get why someone like you would be interested in my stupid, boring little life,” I said, my cheeks prickling with embarrassment.
“Emma, your life is not stupid and boring.”
“It is!”
“It’s not.”
“Of course it is! I never do anything exciting, I haven’t got my own company, or invented anything—”
“You have friends who love you and whom you love,” Jack said, interrupting. “You have ambitions. You have fun. You have imagination and optimism. You have … warmth. The only person who even tried to help that kid on the plane was you.”
“Oh, well,” I said, a little embarrassed. “Like that was a big success—”
“Don’t put yourself down.” He studied my face for a few moments. “Emma, you want to know why I remember all your secrets? The minute you started talking on that plane, I was gripped.”
“You were … gripped?” I said in total disbelief. “By me?”
“I was gripped,” he repeated gently, and he leaned over and kissed me.
And the point is, if I’d never spoken to him on that plane—and if I’d never blurted out my stuff—then this would never have happened. We would never have found each other. It was fate. I was meant to get on that plane. I was meant to get upgraded. I was meant to spill my secrets.
As I arrive home I’m glowing all over. It’s like a lightbulb has switched on inside me. Jemima is wrong. Men and women aren’t enemies. Men and women are soul mates. And if they were just honest,
right from the word go, then they’d realize it! All this being mysterious and aloof is complete rubbish. Everyone should share their secrets straightaway!
I’m so inspired, I think I’m going to write a book on relationships. It will be called Don’t Be Scared to Share, and it will show that men and women should be honest with each other and they’ll communicate better and understand each other, and never have to pretend about anything, ever again. And it could apply to families, too. And politics! Maybe if world leaders all told one another a few personal secrets, then there wouldn’t be any more wars! I think I’m really onto something.
I float up the stairs and unlock the door of our flat. “Lissy!” I call. “Lissy, I’m in love!”
There is no reply, and I feel a twinge of disappointment. I wanted someone to talk to. I wanted someone to impress with my brilliant new theory of life and—
Suddenly there’s a thumping sound from her room. I stand completely still in the hallway, transfixed. The mysterious thumping sounds. There’s another one. Then two more. What on earth—
And then I see it, through the door of the sitting room. On the floor, next to the sofa. A briefcase. A black leather briefcase. It’s him. It’s that Jean-Paul guy. He’s in there! Right this minute! I take a few steps forward, completely intrigued.
What are they doing?
I just don’t believe her story that they’re having sex. But what else could it be? What else could it possibly—
OK … just stop. It’s none of my business. If Lissy doesn’t want to tell me what she’s up to, she doesn’t want to tell me. Feeling very mature, I walk into the kitchen and pick up the kettle to make myself a cup of coffee.
Then I put it down again. Why doesn’t she want to tell me? Why does she have a secret from me? We’re best friends! I mean, it was she who said we shouldn’t have any secrets.
I can’t stand this. Curiosity is niggling at me like a burr. It’s unbearable. And this could be my only chance to find out the truth. But how? I can’t just walk in there. Can I?
All of a sudden, a little thought occurs to me. OK, suppose I hadn’t seen the briefcase? Suppose I’d just innocently walked into the flat and happened to go straight to Lissy’s door and happened to open it? Nobody could blame me then, could they? It would just be an honest mistake.