Can You Keep A Secret?

Even so, as I approach the big glass doors, my pace slows down and I find myself peering

inside to see if he's about.

'All right, Emma?' says Dave the security guard, coming to open the door for me. 'You look

lost.'

'No! I'm fine, thanks!' I give a relaxed little laugh, my eyes darting about the foyer.

I can't see him anywhere. OK. This is going to be fine. He probably isn't in yet. He probably

isn't even coming in today. I throw my hair back confidently, walk briskly across the marble

floor, and start to walk up the stairs.

'Jack!' I suddenly hear as I'm nearing the first floor. 'Have you got a minute?'

'Sure.'

It's his voice. Where on earth-

I turn around, bewildered, and spot him on the landing above, talking to Graham Hillingdon.

My heart gives a huge jump, and I clutch the brass banister. Shit. If he looked down now he'd

see me.

Why does he have to stand right there? Doesn't he have some big important office he can go

to?

Anyway. It doesn't matter. I'll just… take a different route. Very slowly I take a few steps

back down the stairs, trying not to click my heels on the marble or move suddenly in case I

attract his attention. Moira from Accounts walks past as I'm carefully stepping backwards and

gives me an odd look, but I don't care. I have to get away.

As soon as I'm out of his view I feel myself relax, and walk more quickly back down to the

foyer. I'll go by lift, instead. No problem. I step confidently across the floor, and I'm right in

the middle of the huge expanse of marble when I freeze.

'That's right.' It's his voice again. And it seems to be getting nearer. Or am I just paranoid?

'… think I'll take a good look at…'

My head swivels around. Where is he now? Which direction is he going in?

'… really think that…'

Shit. He's coming down the stairs. There's nowhere to hide!

Without thinking twice I almost run to the glass doors, push them open, and hurry out of the

building. I scuttle down the steps, run about a hundred yards down the road and stop, panting.

This is not going well.

I stand on the pavement for a few minutes in the morning sunshine, trying to estimate how

long he will stay in the foyer, then cautiously approach the glass doors again. New tactic. I

will walk to my office so incredibly quickly, I can't catch anyone's eye. So it won't matter if I

pass Jack Harper or not. I will simply stride along without looking right or left and oh my God

there he is, talking to Dave.

Without quite meaning to, I find myself running back down the steps and along the street

again.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't stay out here on the street all day. I have to get to my desk.

Come on, think. There must be a way round this. There must be-

Yes! I have a totally brilliant idea. This will definitely work.

Three minutes later I approach the doors of the Panther building once more, totally engrossed

in an article in The Times. I can't see anything around me. And no-one can see my face. This

is the perfect disguise!

I push the door open with my shoulder, walk across the foyer and up the stairs, all without

looking up. As I stride along the corridor towards the marketing department, I feel all

cocooned and safe, buried in my Times. I should do this more often. No-one can get me in

here. It's a really reassuring feeling, almost as though I'm invisible, or-

'Ow! Sorry!'

I've crashed into someone. Shit. I lower my paper, to see Paul staring at me, rubbing his head.

'Emma, what the fuck are you doing?'

'I was just reading The Times,' I say feebly. 'I'm really sorry.'

'All right. Anyway, where the hell have you been? I want you to do teas and coffees at the

departmental meeting. Ten o'clock.'

'What teas and coffees?' I say, puzzled. They don't usually have any refreshments at the

departmental meeting. In fact, usually only about six people turn up.

'We're having teas and coffees today,' he says. 'And biscuits. All right? Oh, and Jack Harper's

coming along.'

'What?' I stare at him in consternation.

'Jack Harper's coming along,' repeats Paul impatiently. 'So hurry up.'

'Do I have to go?' I say before I can stop myself.

'What?' Paul stares at me with a blank frown.

'I was just wondering if I… have to go, or whether…' I tail off feebly.

'Emma, if you can serve tea and coffee by telepathy,' says Paul sarcastically, 'then you're more

than welcome to stay at your desk. If not, would you most kindly get your arse in gear and up

to the conference room. You know, for someone who wants to advance their career… 'He

shakes his head and stalks off.

How can this day have gone so wrong already and I haven't even sat down yet?

I dump my bag and jacket at my desk, hurry back down the corridors to the lifts, and press the

Up button. A moment later, one pings in front of me, and the doors open.

No. No.

This is a bad dream.

Jack Harper is standing alone in the lift, in old jeans and a brown cashmere sweater.

Before I can stop myself I take a startled step backwards. Jack Harper puts his mobile phone

away, tilts his head to one side and gives me a quizzical look.

'Are you getting into the elevator?' he says mildly.

I'm stuffed. What can I say? I can't say 'No, I just pressed the button for fun, haha!'

'Yes,' I say at last and walk into the lift with stiff legs. 'Yes I am.'

The doors close, and we begin to travel upwards in silence. I've got a knot of tension in my

stomach.

'Erm, Mr Harper,' I say awkwardly, and he looks up. 'I just wanted to apologize for my… for

the, um, shirking episode the other day. It won't happen again.'

'You have drinkable coffee now,' says Jack Harper, raising his eyebrows. 'So you shouldn't

need to go to Starbucks, at any rate.'

'I know. I'm really sorry,' I say, my face hot. 'And may I assure you, that was the very last

time I will ever do such a thing.' I clear my throat. 'I am fully committed to the Panther

Corporation, and I look forward to serving this company as best as I can, giving one hundred

per cent, every day, now and in the future.'

I almost want to add 'Amen'.

'Really.' Jack looks at me, his mouth twitching. 'That's… great.' He thinks for a moment.

'Emma, can you keep a secret?'

'Yes,' I say apprehensively. 'What is it?'

Jack leans close and whispers, 'I used to play hookey too.'

'What?' I stare at him.

'In my first job,' he continues in his normal voice. 'I had a friend I used to hang out with. We

had a code, too.' His eyes twinkle. 'One of us would ask the other to bring him the Leopold