Can You Keep A Secret?

shock, to see Connor standing in the doorway.

'Connor!' I say. 'What are you doing here?'

'I'm on my way to watch the TV interview. But I just wanted a quick word.' He takes a few

steps into the office, and fixes me with an accusing stare. 'So. You lied to me.'

Oh shit. Has Connor guessed? Did he see something at the Corporate Family Day?

'What do you mean?' I say nervously.

'I've just had a little chat with Tristan from Design.' Connor's voice swells with indignation.

'He's gay! You're not going out with him at all, are you?'

He cannot be serious. Connor didn't seriously think I was going out with Tristan from Design,

did he? I mean, Tristan could not look more gay if he wore leopardskin hotpants, carried a

handbag, and walked around humming Barbra Streisand hits.

'No,' I say, managing to keep a straight face. 'I'm not going out with Tristan.'

'Well!' says Connor, nodding as though he's scored a hundred points and doesn't quite know

what to do with them. 'Well. I just don't see why you feel it necessary to lie to me.' He lifts his

chin in wounded dignity. 'That's all. I just would have thought we could be a little honest with

each other.'

'Connor, it's just… it's complicated. OK?'

'Fine. Whatever. It's your boat, Emma.'

There's a slight pause.

'It's my what?' I say puzzledly. 'My boat?'

'Court,' he says with a flash of annoyance. 'I meant to say… the ball's in your court.'

'Oh right,' I say, none the wiser. 'Er… OK. I'll bear that in mind.'

'Good.' He gives me his most wounded-martyr look, and starts walking away.

'Wait!' I say suddenly. 'Hang on a minute! Connor, could you do me a real favour?' I wait

until he turns, then pull a wheedling face. 'Could you possibly man the phones here while I

quickly go and watch Jack Harper's interview?'

I know Connor isn't my number one fan at the moment. But I don't exactly have a lot of

choice.

'Could I do what?' Connor stares at me in astonishment.

'Could you man the phones? Just for half an hour. I'd be so incredibly grateful…'

'I can't believe you're even asking me that!' says Connor incredulously. 'You know how

important Jack Harper is to me! Emma, I really don't know what you've turned into.'

After he's stalked off, I sit there for twenty minutes. I take several messages for Paul, one for

Nick and one for Caroline. I file a couple of letters. I address a couple of envelopes. And then

suddenly, I've had it.

This is stupid. This is more than stupid. It's ridiculous. I love Jack. He loves me. I should be

there, supporting him. I pick up my coffee and hurry along the corridor. The meeting room is

crowded with people, but I edge in at the back, and squeeze between two guys who aren't

even watching Jack, but are discussing some football match.

'What are you doing here?' says Artemis, as I arrive at her side. 'What about the phones?'

'No taxation without representation,' I hear myself responding coolly, which perhaps isn't

exactly appropriate (I'm not even sure what it means), but has the desired effect of shutting

her up.

I crane my neck so I can see over everyone's heads, and my eyes focus on the screen — and

there he is. Sitting on a chair in a studio, in jeans and a white T-shirt. There's a bright blue

backdrop and the words 'Business Inspirations' behind him, and two smart-looking

interviewers sitting opposite him.

There he is. The man I love.

This is the first time I've seen him since we slept together, it suddenly occurs to me. But his

face is as warm as ever, and his eyes look all dark and glossy under the studio lights.

Oh God, I want to kiss him.

If no-one else was here I would go up to the television set and kiss it. I honestly would.

'What have they asked him so far?' I murmur to Artemis.

'They're talking to him about how he works. His inspirations, his partnership with Pete Laidler,

stuff like that.'

'Sssh!' says someone else.

'Of course it was tough after Pete died,' Jack's saying. 'It was tough for all of us. But recently

…' He pauses. 'Recently my life has turned around and I'm finding inspiration again. I'm

enjoying it again.'

A small tingle runs over me.

He has to be referring to me. He has to be. I've turned his life around! Oh my God. That's

even more romantic than 'I was gripped'.

'You've already expanded into the sports drinks market,' the male interviewer is saying. 'Now

I believe you're looking to expand into the women's market.'

'What?'

There's a frisson around the room, and people start turning their heads.

'We're going into the women's market?'

'Since when?'

'I knew, actually,' Artemis is saying smugly. 'Quite a few people have known for a while-'

I stare at the screen, instantly recalling those people up in Jack's office. That's what the

ovaries were for. Gosh, this is quite exciting. A new venture!

'Can you give us any further details about that?' the male interviewer is saying. 'Will this be a

soft drink marketed at women?'

'It's very early stages,' says Jack. 'But we're planning an entire line. A drink, clothing, a

fragrance. We have a strong creative vision.' He smiles at the man. 'We're excited.'

'So, what's your target market this time?' asks the man, consulting his notes. 'Are you aiming

at sportswomen?'

'Not at all,' says Jack. 'We're aiming at… the girl on the street.'

'The 'girl on the street'?' The female interviewer sits up, looking slightly affronted. 'What's

that supposed to mean? Who is this girl on the street?'

'She's twenty-something,' says Jack after a pause. 'She works in an office, takes the tube to

work, goes out in the evenings and comes home on the night bus… just an ordinary, nothingspecial

girl.'

'There are thousands of them,' puts in the man with a smile.

'But the Panther brand has always been associated with men,' chips in the woman, looking

sceptical. 'With competition. With masculine values. Do you really think you can make the

switch to the female market?'

'We've done research,' says Jack pleasantly. 'We feel we know our market.'

'Research!' she scoffs. 'Isn't this just another case of men telling women what they want?'

'I don't believe so,' says Jack, still pleasantly, but I can see a slight flicker of annoyance pass

across his face.

'Plenty of companies have tried to switch markets without success. How do you know you

won't just be another one of them?'

'I'm confident,' says Jack.

God, why is she being so aggressive? I think indignantly. Of course Jack knows what he's

doing!