Can You Keep A Secret?

'That's right! You tell him!' the woman in gold supportively calls from across the room. 'You

know, this girl's got a lovely husband of her own,' she exclaims to Jack. 'She doesn't need

you!'

'Thank you for dinner,' I say, staring fixedly at the tablecloth, as one of the waiters magically

appears at my side with my coat.

'Emma,' says Jack, getting to his feet in disbelief. 'You're not seriously going.'

'l am.'

'Give it another chance. Please. Stay and have some coffee. I promise I'll talk-'

'I don't want any coffee,' I say, as the waiter helps me on with my coat.

'Mint tea, then. Chocolates! I ordered you a box of Godiva truffles…' His tone is entreating,

and just for an instant I waver. I love Godiva truffles.

But no, I've made up my mind.

'I don't care,' I gulp. 'I'm going. Thank you very much,' I add to the waiter. 'How did you

know I wanted my coat?'

'We make it our business to know,' says the waiter discreetly.

'You see?' I say to Jack. 'They know me.'

There's an instant in which we stare at each other.

'Fine,' says Jack at last, and gives a resigned shrug. 'Fine. Daniel will take you home. He

should be waiting outside in the car.'

'I'm not going home in your car!' I say in horror. 'I'll make my own way, thanks.'

'Emma. Don't be stupid.'

'Goodbye. And thanks very much,' I add to the waiter. 'You were all very attentive and nice to

me.'

I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it's started to rain. And I don't have an umbrella.

Well, I don't care. I'm going anyway. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on the wet

pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where I am. I

don't even know where the nearest tube is, or where…

Hang on. There's a bus stop. I look down the numbers and see one that goes to Islington.

Well, fine. I'll take the bus home. And then I'll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. And maybe

some icecream in front of the telly.

It's one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking God my hair

won't get any wetter. I'm just staring blankly at a car advertisement, wondering what that

Haagen-Dazs pudding tasted like and whether the meringue was the stiff white kind or that

gorgeous chewy, caramel kind, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.

I don't believe it.

'Please,' says Jack, getting out. 'Let me take you home.'

'No,' I say, without turning my head.

'You can't stay here in the rain.'

'Yes I can. Some of us live in the real world, you know.'

I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster about AIDS. The next moment Jack has

arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine and for a while we're

both silent.

'I know I was terrible company this evening,' he says eventually. 'And I'm sorry. I'm also sorry

I can't tell you anything about it. But my life is… complicated. And some bits of it are very

delicate. Do you understand?'

No, I want to say. No, I don't understand, when I've told you every single little thing about me.

'I suppose,' I say, with a tiny shrug.

The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creeping into

my — Jemima's — silver sandals. God, I hope it won't stain them.

'I'm sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,' says Jack, lifting his voice above the

noise.

'It wasn't,' I say, suddenly feeling bad. 'I just… I had such high hopes! I wanted to get to

know you a bit, and I wanted to have fun… and for us to laugh… and I wanted one of those

pink cocktails, not champagne…'

Shit. Shit. That slipped out before I could stop it.

'But… you like champagne!' says Jack, looking stunned. 'You told me. Your perfect date

would start off with champagne.'

I can't quite meet his eye.

'Yes, well. I didn't know about the pink cocktails then, did I?'

Jack throws back his head and laughs.

'Fair point. Very fair point. And I didn't even give you a choice, did I?' He shakes his head

ruefully. 'You were probably sitting there thinking, damn this guy, can't he tell I want a pink

cocktail?'

'No!' I say at once, but my cheeks are turning crimson, and Jack is looking at me with such a

comical expression that I want to hug him.

'Oh Emma. I'm sorry.' He shakes his head. 'I wanted to get to know you too. And I wanted to

have fun, too. It sounds like we both wanted the same things. And it's my fault we didn't get

them.'

'It's not your fault,' I mumble awkwardly.

'This is not the way I planned for things to go.' He looks at me seriously. 'Will you give me

another chance?'

A big red double-decker bus rumbles up to the bus stop, and we both look up.

'I've got to go,' I say, standing up. 'This is my bus.'

'Emma, don't be silly. Come in the car.'

'No. I'm going on the bus!'

The automatic doors open, and I step onto the bus. I show my travelcard to the driver and he

nods.

'You're seriously considering riding on this thing?' says Jack, stepping on behind me. He peers

dubiously at the usual motley collection of night bus riders. 'Is this safe?'

'You sound like my grandpa! Of course it's safe. It goes to the end of my road.'

'Hurry up!' says the driver impatiently to Jack. 'If you haven't got the money, get off.'

'I have American Express,' says Jack, feeling in his pocket.

'You can't pay a bus fare with American Express!' I say, rolling my eyes. 'Don't you know

anything? And anyway.' I stare at my travelcard for a few seconds. 'I think I'd rather be on my

own, if you don't mind.'

'I see,' says Jack in a different voice. 'I guess I'd better get off,' he says to the driver. Then he

looks at me. 'You haven't answered me. Can we try again? Tomorrow night. And this time

we'll do whatever you want. You call the shots.'

'OK.' I'm trying to give a noncommittal shrug, but as I meet his eye I find myself smiling, too.

'Eight o'clock again?'

'Eight o'clock. And leave the car behind,' I add firmly. 'We'll do things my way.'

'Great! I look forward to it. Goodnight, Emma.'

'Goodnight.'

As he turns to get off, I climb up the stairs to the top deck of the bus. I head for the front seat,

the place I always used to sit when I was a child, and stare out at the dark, rainy, London night.

If I stare for long enough, the street lights become blurred like a kaleidoscope. Like fairyland.

Swooshing round my mind are images of the woman in gold, the pink cocktail, Jack's face as

I said I was leaving, the waiter bringing me my coat, Jack's car arriving at the bus stop… I

can't quite work out what I think. All I can do is sit there, staring out, aware of familiar,