Can You Keep A Secret?

everything is heaped in a great big pile. She says putting stuff away makes her brain ache, and

as long as it's clean, what does it matter?

'So!' says Lissy with a grin, and reaches for a white sparkly dress. 'What look would Madam

like this evening?'

I don't wear the white sparkly dress. But I do try it on. In fact, we both try on quite a lot of

stuff, and then have to put it all back, very carefully. At one point another car alarm goes off

outside, and we both jump in terror, then immediately pretend we weren't fazed.

In the end, I go for this amazing new red top of Jemima's with slashed shoulders, over my

own black DKNY chiffon trousers (?25 from the Notting Hill Housing Trust shop) and

Jemima's silver high heels from Prada. And then, although I wasn't intending to, at the last

minute I grab a little black Gucci bag.

'You look amazing!' says Lissy as I do a twirl. 'Completely fab!'

'Do I look too smart?'

'Of course not! Come on, you're going out to dinner with a multimillionaire.'

'Don't say that!' I exclaim, feeling nerves clutch my stomach. I look at my watch. It's almost

eight o'clock.

Oh God. Now I really am starting to feel nervous. In the fun of getting ready, I'd almost

forgotten what it was all for.

Keep calm, I tell myself. It's just dinner. That's all it is. Nothing special. Nothing out of the-'

'Fuck!' Lissy's looking out of the window in the sitting room. 'Fuck! There's a great big car

outside!'

'What? Where?' I hurry to join her, my heart galloping. As I follow her gaze, I almost can't

breathe.

An enormous posh car is waiting outside our house. I mean, enormous. It's silver and shiny,

and looks incredibly conspicuous in our tiny little street. In fact I can see some people looking

curiously out of the house opposite.

And all at once I'm really scared. What am I doing? This is a world I know nothing about.

When we were sitting on those plane seats, Jack and I were just two people on an equal level.

But look at us now. Look at the world he lives in — and look at the world I live in.

'Lissy,' I say in a tiny voice. 'I don't want to go.'

'Yes you do!' says Lissy — but I can see, she's just as freaked out as me.

The buzzer goes, and we jump.

I feel like I might throw up.

OK. OK. Here I go.

'Hi,' I say into the intercom. 'I'll… I'll be right down.' I put the phone down and look at Lissy.

'Well,' I say in a trembling voice. 'This is it!'

'Emma.' Lissy grabs my hands. 'Before you go. Don't take any notice of what Jemima said.

Just have a lovely time.' She hugs me tightly. 'Call me if you get a chance.'

'I will.'

I take one last look at myself in the mirror, then open the door and make my way down the

stairs.

I open the door, and Jack's standing there, wearing a jacket and tie. He smiles at me, and all

my fears fly away like butterflies. Jemima's wrong. This isn't me against him. This is me with

him.

'Hi,' he says, smiling warmly. 'You look very nice.'

'Thanks.'

I reach for the door handle, but a man in a peaked cap rushes forward to open it for me.

'Silly me!' I say nervously.

I can't quite believe I'm getting into this car. Me. Emma Corrigan. I feel like a princess. I feel

like a movie star.

I sit down on the plushy seat, trying not to think how different this is from any car I've ever

been in, ever.

'Are you OK?' says Jack.

'Yes! I'm fine!' My voice is a nervous squeak.

'Emma,' says Jack. 'We're going to have fun. I promise. Did you have your pre-date sweet

sherry?'

How did he know-

Oh yes. I told him on the plane.

'Yes, I did actually,' I admit.

'Would you like some more?' He opens the bar and I see a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream

sitting on a silver platter.

'Did you get that especially for me?' I say in disbelief.

'No, it's my favourite tipple.' His expression is so deadpan, I can't help laughing. 'I'll join you,'

he says, as he hands me a glass. 'I've never tasted this before.' He pours himself a deep

measure, takes a sip, and splutters. 'Are you serious?'

'It's yummy! It tastes like Christmas!'

'It tastes like…' He shakes his head. 'I don't even want to tell you what it tastes like. I'll stick

to whisky if you don't mind.'

'OK,' I say with a shrug. 'But you're missing out.' I take another sip and grin happily at him.

I'm completely relaxed already.

This is going to be the perfect date.

THIRTEEN

We arrive at a restaurant in Mayfair which I've never been to before. In fact I'm not even sure

I've been to Mayfair before. It's so completely posh, why ever would I?

'It's a kind of private place,' Jack murmurs as we walk through a pillared courtyard. 'Not many

people know about it.'

'Mr Harper. Miss Corrigan,' says a man in a Nehru suit, appearing out of nowhere. 'Please

come this way.'

Wow! They know my name!

We glide past more pillars into an ornate room in which about three other couples are seated.

There's a couple to our right, and as we walk past, a middle-aged woman with platinum hair

and a gold jacket catches my eye.

'Well, hello!' she says. 'Rachel!'

'What?' I look around, bewildered. Is she looking at me?

She gets up from her seat and, lurching slightly, comes and gives me a kiss. 'How are you,

darling? We haven't seen you for ages!'

OK, you can smell the alcohol from five yards away. And as I glance over at her dinner

partner, he looks just as bad.

'I think you've made a mistake,' I say politely. 'I'm not Rachel.'

'Oh!' The woman stares at me for a moment. Then she glances at Jack and her face snaps in

understanding. 'Oh! Oh, I see. Of course you're not.' She gives me a little wink.

'No!' I say in horror. 'You don't understand. I'm really not Rachel. I'm