Can You Keep A Secret?

'What a good idea,' says Grandpa, and pats my hand. 'You always have good ideas for

presents, Emma.'

'Thank you, love. How thoughtful!' Mum leans over to kiss me, and I feel a warm glow inside.

I had the idea a few months ago. It's a really nice day-long package, with free treatments and

everything.

'You get champagne lunch,' I say eagerly. 'And you can keep the slippers!'

'Wonderful!' says Mum. 'I'll look forward to it. Emma, that's a lovely present!'

'Oh dear,' says Kerry, giving a little laugh. She looks at the large creamy envelope in her own

hands. 'My present's slightly upstaged, I'm afraid. Never mind. I'll change it.'

I look up, alert. There's something about Kerry's voice. I know something's up. I just know it.

'What do you mean?' says Mum.

'It doesn't matter,' says Kerry. 'I'll just… find something else. Not to worry.' She starts to put

the envelope away in her bag.

'Kerry, love!' says Mum. 'Stop that! Don't be silly. What is it?'

'Well,' says Kerry. 'It's just that Emma and I seem to have had the same idea.' She hands Mum

the envelope with another little laugh. 'Can you believe it?'

My whole body stiffens in apprehension.

No.

No. She can't have done what I think she's done.

There's complete silence as Mum opens the envelope.

'Oh my goodness!' she says, taking out a gold embossed brochure. 'What's this? Le Spa

Meridien?' Something falls out, into her hands, and she stares at it. 'Tickets to Paris? Kerry!'

She has. She's ruined my present.

'For both of you,' adds Kerry, a little smugly. 'Uncle Brian, too.'

'Kerry!' says Dad in delight. 'You marvel!'

'It is supposed to be rather good,' says Kerry with a complacent smile. 'Five-star

accommodation… the chef has three Michelin stars…'

'I don't believe this,' says Mum. She's leafing excitedly through the brochure. 'Look at the

swimming pool! Look at the gardens!'

My flowery card is lying, forgotten, amid the wrapping paper.

All at once I feel close to tears. She knew. She knew.

'Kerry, you knew,' I suddenly blurt out, unable to stop myself. 'I told you I was giving Mum a

spa treat. I told you! We had that conversation about it, months ago. In the garden!'

'Did we?' says Kerry casually. 'I don't remember.'

'You do! Of course you remember.'

'Emma!' says Mum sharply. 'It was a simple mistake. Wasn't it, Kerry?'

'Of course it was!' says Kerry, opening her eyes in wide innocence. 'Emma, if I've spoiled

things for you, I can only apologize-'

'There's no need to apologize, Kerry love,' says Mum. 'These things happen. And they're both

lovely presents. Both of them.' She looks at my card again. 'Now, you two girls are best

friends! I don't like to see you quarrelling. Especially on my birthday.'

Mum smiles at me, and I try to smile back. But inside, I feel about ten years old again. Kerry

always manages to wrong-foot me. She always has done, ever since she arrived. Whatever she

did, everyone took her side. She was the one whose mother had died. We all had to be nice to

her. I could never, ever win.

Trying to pull myself together, I reach for my wine glass and take a huge swig. Then I find

myself surreptitiously glancing at my watch. I can leave at four if I make an excuse about

trains running late. That's only another hour and a half to get through. And maybe we'll watch

telly or something…

'A penny for your thoughts, Emma,' says Grandpa, patting my hand with a little smile, and I

look up guiltily.

'Er… nothing,' I say, and force a smile. 'I wasn't really thinking about anything.'

FIVE

Anyway. It doesn't matter, because I'm going to get a promotion. Then Nev will stop making

cracks about my career, and I'll be able to pay back Dad. Everyone will be really impressed -

and it'll be fantastic!

I wake up on Monday morning feeling totally bouncy and positive, and get dressed in my

usual work outfit of jeans and a nice top, this one from French Connection.

Well, not exactly French Connection. To be honest, I bought it at Oxfam. But the label says

French Connection. And while I'm still paying off Dad I don't have much choice about where

I shop. I mean, a new top from French Connection costs about fifty quid, whereas this one

cost ?7.50. And it's practically new!

As I skip up the tube steps, the sun's shining and I'm full of optimism. Imagine if I do get

promoted. Imagine telling everybody. Mum will say, 'How was your week?' and I'll say, 'Well,

actually…'

No, what I'll do is wait until I go home, and then just nonchalantly hand over my new

business card.

Or maybe I'll just drive up in my company car I think in excitement! I mean, I'm not sure any

of the other marketing executives have cars — but you never know, do you? They might

introduce it as a new thing. Or they might say, 'Emma, we've chosen you specially-'

'Emma!'

I look round to see Katie, my friend from Personnel, climbing the tube steps behind me,

panting slightly. Her curly red hair is all tousled, and she's holding one shoe in her hand.

'What on earth happened?' I say as she reaches the top.

'My stupid shoe,' says Katie disconsolately. 'I only had it mended the other day, and the heel's

just come off.' She flaps it at me. 'I paid six quid for that heel! God, this day is such a disaster.

The milkman forgot to bring me any milk, and I had a terrible weekend…'

'I thought you were spending it with Charlie,' I say in surprise. 'What happened?'

Charlie is Katie's latest man. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks and she was

supposed to be visiting his country cottage, which he's doing up at the weekends.

'It was awful! As soon as we arrived, he said he was going off to play golf.'

'Oh right.' I try to find a positive angle. 'Well, at least he's comfortable with you. He can just

act normally.'

'Maybe.' She looks at me doubtfully. 'So 'then he said, how did I feel about helping out a bit

while he was gone? So I said of course — and then he gave me this paintbrush, and three pots

of paint and said I should get the sitting room done if I worked fast.'

'What?'

'And then he came back at six o'clock — and said my brushwork was careless!' Her voice rises

woefully. 'It wasn't careless! I only smudged one bit, and that's because the stupid ladder

wasn't long enough.'