Can You Keep A Secret?

rebuttoning his

shirt. 'Emma, we're in the office!'

'So what? We're young, we're supposed to be in love…' I trail a hand even further down, and

Connor's eyes widen.

'Stop!' he hisses. 'Stop right now! Emma, are you drunk or something?'

'I just want to have sex! Is that too much to ask?'

'Is it too much to ask that we do it in bed like normal people?'

'But we don't do it in bed! I mean, hardly ever!'

There's a sharp silence.

'Emma,' says Connor at last. 'This isn't the time or the place-'

'It is! It could be! This is how we get the spark back! Lissy said-'

'You discussed our sex life with Lissy?' Connor looks aghast.

'Obviously I didn't mention us,' I say, hastily backtracking. 'We were just talking about…

about couples in general, and she said doing it at work can be… sexy! Come on, Connor!' I

shimmy close to him and pull one of his hands inside my bra. 'Don't you find this exciting?

Just the thought that someone could be walking down the corridor right now…' I come to a

halt as I hear a sound.

I think someone is walking down the corridor right now.

Oh shit.

'I can hear footsteps!' Connor hisses, and pulls sharply away from me, but his hand stays

exactly where it is, inside my bra. He stares at it in horror. 'I'm stuck! My bloody watch. It's

snagged on your jumper!' He yanks at it. 'Fuck! I can't move my arm!'

'Pull it!'

'I am pulling it!' He looks frantically around. 'Where are some scissors?'

'You're not cutting my jumper,' I say in horror.

'Do you have any other suggestions?' He yanks sharply again, and I give a muffled shriek.

'Ow! Stop it! You'll ruin it!'

'Oh I'll ruin it. And that's our major concern, is it?'

'I've always hated that stupid watch! If you'd just worn the one I gave you-'

I break off. There are definitely footsteps approaching. They're nearly outside the door.

'Fuck!' Connor's looking around distractedly. 'Fucking… fucking…'

'Calm down! We'll just shuffle into the corner,' I hiss. 'Anyway, they might not even come in.'

'This was a great idea, Emma,' he mutters furiously, as we do a hasty, awkward shuffle across

the room together. 'Really great.'

'Don't blame me!' I retort. 'I just wanted to get a bit of passion back into our-' I freeze as the

door opens.

No. God, no.

I feel lightheaded with shock.

Jack Harper is standing in the doorway, holding a big bundle of old magazines.

Slowly, his eyes run over us, taking in Connor's angry expression, his hand inside my bra, my

agonized face.

'Mr Harper,' Connor begins to stutter. 'I'm so very, very sorry. We're… we didn't…' He

clears his throat. 'Can I just say how mortified I am… we both are…'

'I'm sure you are,' says Jack. His face is blank and unreadable; his voice as dry as ever.

'Perhaps the pair of you could adjust your dress before returning to your desks?'

The door closes behind him, and we stand motionless, like waxworks.

'Look, can you just get your bloody hand out of my top?' I say at last, suddenly feeling

irritated beyond belief with Connor. All my desire for sex has vanished. I feel completely

livid with myself. And Connor. And everybody.

TEN

Jack Harper leaves today.

Thank God. Thank God. Because I really couldn't cope with any more of… of him. If I can

just keep my head down and avoid him until five o'clock and then run out of the door, then

everything will be fine. Life will be back to normal and I will stop feeling as if my radar's

been skewed by some invisible magnetic force.

I don't know why I'm in such a jumpy, irritable mood. Because although I nearly died of

embarrassment yesterday, things are pretty good. First of all, it doesn't look like' Connor and I

are going to get the sack for having sex at work, which was my immediate fear. And secondly,

my brilliant plan worked. As soon as we got back to our desks, Connor started sending me

apologetic emails. And then last night we had sex. Twice. With scented candles.

I think Connor must have read somewhere that girls like scented candles during sex. Maybe in

Cosmo. Because every time he brings them out, he gives me this 'aren't I considerate?' look,

and I have to say 'Oh! Scented candles! How lovely!'

I mean, don't get me wrong. I don't mind scented candles. But it's not as if they actually do

anything, is it? They just stand there and burn. And then at crucial moments I find myself

thinking 'I hope the scented candle doesn't fall over', which is a bit distracting.

Anyway. So we had sex.

And tonight we're going to look at a flat together. It doesn't have a wooden floor or shutters -

but it has a Jacuzzi in the bathroom, which is pretty cool. So my life is coming together nicely.

I don't know why I'm feeling so pissed off. I don't know what's-

I don't want to move in with Connor, says a tiny voice in my brain before I can stop it.

No. That can't be right. That cannot possibly be right. Connor is perfect. Everyone knows that.

But I don't want to—

Shut up. We're the Perfect Couple. We have sex with scented candles. And we go for walks

by the river. And we read the papers on Sundays with cups of coffee in pyjamas. That's what

perfect couples do.

But—

Stop it!

I swallow hard. Connor is the one good thing in my life. If I didn't have Connor, what would I

have?

The phone rings on my desk, interrupting my thoughts, and I pick it up.

'Hello, Emma?' comes a familiar dry voice. 'This is Jack Harper.'

My heart gives an almighty leap of fright and I nearly spill my coffee. I haven't seen him

since the hand-in-bra incident. And I really don't want to.

I should never have answered my phone.

In fact, I should never have come into work today.