Can You Keep A Secret?

'What was he doing in Scotland?' puts in Jemima.

'I dunno.'

There's a pause.

'Hmm,' says Jemima kindly. 'It's not the most embarrassing secret in the world, is it? I mean,

plenty of smart people live in Scotland. Haven't you got anything better? Like… does he

wear a chest wig?'

'A chest wig!' Lissy gives an explosive snort of laughter. 'Or a toupee!'

'Of course he doesn't wear a chest wig. Or a toupee,' I retort indignantly. Do they honestly

think I'd go out with a man who wore a toupee?

'Well then, you'll have to make something up,' says Jemima. 'You know, before the affair with

the scientist, Mummy was treated very badly by some politician chap. So she made up a

rumour that he was taking bribes from the Communist party, and passed it round the House of

Commons. She always says, that taught Dennis a lesson!'

'Not… Dennis Llewellyn?' Lissy says.

'Er, yes, I think that was him.'

'The disgraced Home Secretary?' Lissy looks aghast. 'The one who spent his whole life

fighting to clear his name and ended up in a mental institution?'

'Well, he shouldn't have messed Mummy around, should he?' says Jemima, sticking out her

chin. A bleeper goes off in her pocket. 'Time for my footbath!'

As she disappears back into the house, Lissy rolls her eyes.

'She's nuts,' she says. 'Totally nuts. Emma, you are not making anything up about Jack

Harper.'

'I won't make anything up!' I say indignantly. 'Who do you think I am? Anyway.' I stare into

my schnapps, feeling my exhilaration fade away. 'Who am I kidding? I could never get my

revenge on Jack. I could never hurt him. He doesn't have any weak points. He's a huge,

powerful millionaire.' I take a miserable slug of my drink. 'And I'm a nothing-special…

crappy… ordinary… nothing.'

TWENTY-ONE

The next morning I wake up full of sick dread. I feel exactly like a five-year-old who doesn't

want to go to school. A five-year-old with a severe hangover, that is.

'I can't go,' I say, as 8.30 arrives. 'I can't face them.'

'Yes you can,' says Lissy reassuringly, doing up my jacket buttons. 'It'll be fine. Just keep your

chin up.'

'What if they're horrid to me?'

'They won't be horrid to you. They're your friends. Anyway, they'll probably all have

forgotten about it by now.'

'They won't! Can't I just stay at home with you?' I grab her hand beseechingly. 'I'll be really

good, I promise.'

'Emma, I've explained to you,' says Lissy patiently. 'I've got to go to court today.'

She prises my hand out of hers. 'But I'll be here when you get home. And we'll have

something really nice for supper. OK?'

'OK,' I say in a small voice. 'Can we have chocolate ice-cream?'

'Of course we can,' says Lissy, opening the front door of our flat. 'Now, go on. You'll be fine!'

Feeling like a dog being shooed out, I go down the stairs and open the front door. I'm just

stepping out of the house when a van pulls up at the side of the road. A man gets out in a blue

uniform, holding the biggest bunch of flowers I've ever seen, all tied up with dark green

ribbon, and squints at the number on our house.

'Hello,' he says. 'I'm looking for an Emma Corrigan.'

'That's me!' I say in surprise.

'Aha!' He smiles, and holds out a pen and clipboard. 'Well, this is your lucky day. If you could

just sign here…'

I stare at the bouquet in disbelief. Roses, freesias, amazing big purple flowers… fantastic

dark red pompom things… dark green frondy bits… pale green ones which look just like

asparagus…

OK, I may not know what they're all called. But I do know one thing. These flowers are

expensive.

There's only one person who could have sent them.

'Wait,' I say, without taking the pen. 'I want to check who they're from.'

I grab the card, rip it open, and scan down the long message, not reading any of it until I come

to the name at the bottom.

Jack.

I feel a huge dart of emotion. After all he did, Jack thinks he can fob me off with some manky

bunch of flowers?

All right, huge, deluxe bunch of flowers.

But that's not the point.

'I don't want them, thank you,' I say, lifting my chin.

'You don't want them?' The delivery man stares at me.

'No. Tell the person who sent them that thanks, but no thanks.'

'What's going on?' comes a breathless voice beside me, and I look up to see Lissy gawping at

the bouquet. 'Oh my God. Are they from Jack?'

'Yes. But I don't want them,' I say. 'Please take them away.'

'Wait!' exclaims Lissy, grabbing the cellophane. 'Let me just smell them.' She buries her face

in the blooms and inhales deeply. 'Wow! That's absolutely incredible! Emma, have you smelt

them?'

'No!' I say, crossly. 'I don't want to smell them.'

'I've never seen flowers as amazing as this.' She looks at the man. 'So what will happen to

them?'

'Dunno.' He shrugs. 'They'll get chucked away, I suppose.'

'Gosh.' She glances at me. 'That seems like an awful waste…'

Hang on. She's not-

'Lissy, I can't accept them!' I exclaim. 'I can't! He'll think I'm saying everything's OK between

us.'

'No, you're quite right,' says Lissy reluctantly. 'You have to send them back.' She touches a

pink velvety rose petal. 'It is a shame, though…'

'Send what back?' comes a sharp voice behind me. 'You are joking, aren't you?'

Oh, for God's sake. Now Jemima has arrived in the street, still in her white dressing gown.

'You're not sending those back!' she cries. 'I'm giving a dinner party tomorrow night. They'll

be perfect.' She' grabs the label. 'Smythe and Foxe! Do you know how much these must have

cost?'

'I don't care how much they cost!' I exclaim. 'They're from Jack! I can't possibly keep them.'