Can You Keep A Secret?

'But… this is ridiculous! It's ridiculous!' Connor's pacing around the room like a rattled lion.

Suddenly he looks at me.

'It's that plane journey.'

'What?' I jump as though I've been scalded. 'What do you mean?'

'You've been different ever since that plane ride down from Scotland.'

'No I haven't!'

'You have! You've been edgy, you've been tense…' Connor squats down in front of me and

takes my hands. 'Emma, I think maybe you're still suffering some kind of trauma. You could

have counselling.'

'Connor, I don't need counselling!' I jerk my hands away. 'But maybe you're right. Maybe that

plane ride did…' I swallow. 'Affect me. Maybe it brought my life into perspective and make

me realize a few things. And one of the things I've realized is, we aren't right for each other.'

Slowly Connor sinks down onto the carpet, his face bewildered.

'But things have been great! We've been having lots of sex-'

'I know.'

'Is there someone else?'

'No!' I say sharply. 'Of course there's no-one else!' I rub my finger roughly up and down the

cover of the sofa.

'This isn't you talking,' says Connor suddenly. 'It's just the mood you're in. I'll run you a nice

hot bath, light some scented candles…'

'Connor, please!' I cry. 'No more scented candles! You have to listen to me. And you have to

believe me.' I look straight into his eyes. 'I want to break up.'

'I don't believe you!' he says, shaking his head. 'I know you, Emma! You're not that kind of

person. You wouldn't just throw away something like that. You wouldn't-'

He stops in shock as, with no warning, I hurl the glass teapot to the floor.

We both stare at it, stunned.

'It was supposed to break,' I explain after a pause. 'And that was going to signify that yes, I

would throw something away. If I knew it wasn't right for me.'

'I think it has broken,' says Connor, picking it up and examining it. 'At least, there's a hairline

crack.'

'There you go.'

'We could still use it-'

'No. We couldn't.'

'We could get some Sellotape.'

'But it would never work properly.' I clench my fists by my sides. 'It just… wouldn't work.'

'I see,' says Connor after a pause.

And I think, finally, he does.

'Well… I'll be off then,' he says at last. 'I'll phone the flat people and tell them that we're…'

He stops, and roughly wipes his nose.

'OK,' I say, in a voice which doesn't sound like mine. 'Can we keep it quiet from everyone at

work?' I add. 'Just for the moment.'

'Of course,' he says gruffly. 'I won't say anything.'

He's halfway out of the door when abruptly he turns back, reaching in his pocket. 'Emma, here

are the tickets for the jazz festival,' he says, his voice cracking a little. 'You have them.'

'What?' I stare at them in horror. 'No! Connor, you have them! They're yours!'

'You have them. I know how much you've been looking forward to hearing the Dennisson

Quartet.' He pushes the brightly coloured tickets roughly into my hand and closes my fingers

over them.

'I… I…' I swallow. 'Connor… I just… I don't know what to say.'

'We'll always have jazz,' says Connor in a choked-up voice, and closes the door behind him.

ELEVEN

So now I have no promotion and no boyfriend. And puffy eyes from crying. And everyone

thinks I'm mad.

'You're mad,' Jemima says, approximately every ten minutes. It's Saturday morning, and we're

in our usual routine of dressing gowns, coffee, and nursing hangovers. Or in my case, breakups.

'You do realize you had him?' She frowns at her toenail, which she's painting baby pink.

'I would have predicted a rock on your finger within six months.'

'I thought you said I'd ruined all my chances by agreeing to move in with him,' I retort sulkily.

'Well, in Connor's case I think you would have been safe and dry.' She shakes her head.

'You're crazy.'

'Do you think I'm crazy?' I say, turning to Lissy, who's sitting in the rocking chair with her

arm round her knees, eating a piece of raisin toast. 'Be honest.'

'Er… no,' says Lissy unconvincingly. 'Of course not!'

'You do!'

'It's just… you seemed like such a great couple.'

'I know we did. I know we looked great on the outside.' I pause, trying to explain. 'But the

truth is, I never felt I was being myself. It was always a bit like we were acting. You know. It

didn't seem real, somehow.'

'That's it?' interrupts Jemima, staring at me as though I'm talking gibberish. 'That's the reason

you broke up?'

'It's a pretty good reason, don't you think?' says Lissy loyally.

Jemima stares at us both blankly.

'Of course not! Emma, if you'd just stuck it out and acted being the perfect couple for long

enough, you would have become the perfect couple.'

'But… but we wouldn't have been happy!'

'You would have been the perfect couple,' says Jemima, as though explaining something to a

very stupid child.' Obviously you would have been happy.' She cautiously stands up, her toes

splayed by bits of pink foam, and starts making her way towards the door. 'And anyway.

Everyone pretends in a relationship.'

'No they don't! Or at least, they shouldn't.'

'Of course they should! All this being honest with each other is totally overrated.' She gives us

a knowing look. 'My mother's been married to my father for thirty years, and he still has no

idea she isn't a natural blonde.'

She disappears out of the room and I exchange glances with Lissy.

'Do you think she's right?' I say.

'No,' says Lissy uncertainly. 'Of course not! Relationships should be built on… on trust…

and truth…' She pauses, and looks at me anxiously. 'Emma, you never told me you felt that

way about Connor.'

'I… didn't tell anyone.'

This isn't quite true, I immediately realize. But I'm hardly going to tell my best friend that I