Can You Keep A Secret?

them. And the entire office is staring at them, as though they're some kind of rare creature.

Scratch that. The entire office has now turned their heads in order to stare at me.

'Hi, Mum,' I say in a voice that has suddenly gone rather husky. 'Hi, Dad.'

What are they doing here?

'Emma!' says Dad, making an attempt at his normal jovial voice. 'We just thought we'd… pop

in to see you.'

'Right,' I say, nodding dazedly. As though this is a perfectly normal course of events.

'We brought you a little present,' says Mum brightly. 'Some flowers for your desk.' She puts

the bouquet down awkwardly. 'Look at Emma's desk, Brian. Isn't it smart! Look at the… the

computer!'

'Splendid!' says Dad, giving it a little pat. 'Very… very fine desk indeed.'

'And are these your friends?' says Mum, smiling around the office.

'Kind of,' I say, scowling as Artemis beams back winsomely at her.

'We were just saying, the other day,' continues Mum, 'how proud you should be of yourself,

Emma. Working for a big company like this. I'm sure many girls would be very envious of

your career. Don't you agree, Brian?'

'Absolutely!' says Dad. 'You've done very well for yourself, Emma.'

I'm so taken aback, I can't even open my mouth. I meet Dad's eye, and he gives a strange,

awkward little smile. And Mum's hands are trembling slightly as she puts the flowers down.

They're nervous, I realize with a jolt of shock. They're both nervous.

I'm just trying to get my head round this as Paul appears at the door of his office.

'So Emma,' he says, raising his eyebrows. 'You have visitors, I gather?'

'Er… yes,' I say. 'Paul, these are… um… my parents, Brian and Rachel…'

'Enchanted,' says Paul politely.

'We don't want to be any bother,' says Mum hurriedly.

'No bother at all,' says Paul, and bestows a charming smile on her. 'Unfortunately, the room

we usually use for family bonding sessions is being redecorated.'

'Oh!' says Mum, unsure as to whether he's being serious or not. 'Oh dear!'

'So perhaps, Emma, you'd like to take your parents out for — shall we call it an early lunch?'

I look up at the clock. It's a quarter to ten.

'Thanks, Paul,' I say gratefully.

This is surreal. It's completely surreal.

It's the middle of the morning. I should be at work. And instead I'm walking down the street

with my parents, wondering what on earth we're going to say to each other. I can't even

remember the last time it was just my parents and me. Just the three of us, no Grandpa, no

Kerry, no Nev. It's as if we've gone back in time fifteen years, or something.

'We could go in here,' I say, as we reach an Italian coffee shop.

'Good idea!' says Dad heartily, and pushes the door open. 'We saw your friend Jack Harper on

television yesterday,' he adds casually.

'He's not my friend,' I reply shortly, and he and Mum glance at each other.

We sit down at a wooden table and a waiter brings us each a menu, and there's silence.

Oh God. Now I'm feeling nervous.

'So…' I begin, then stop. What I want to say is, Why are you here? But it might sound a bit

rude. 'What… brings you to London?' I say, instead.

'We just thought we'd like to visit you,' says Mum, looking through her reading glasses at the

menu. 'Now, shall I have a cup of tea… or what's this? A frap-pelatte?'

'I want a normal cup of coffee,' says Dad, peering at the menu with a frown. 'Do they do such

a thing?'

'If they don't, you'll have to have a cappuccino and spoon off the froth,' says Mum. 'Or an

espresso and just ask them to add hot water.'

I don't believe this. They have driven two hundred miles. Are we just going to sit here and

talk about hot beverages all day?

'Oh, and that reminds me,' adds Mum casually. 'We've bought you a little something, Emma.

Haven't we, Brian?'

'Oh… right,' I say in surprise. 'What is it?'

'It's a car,' says Mum, and looks up at the waiter who's appeared at our table. 'Hello! I would

like a cappuccino, my husband would like a filter coffee if that's possible, and Emma would

like-'

'A car?' I echo in disbelief.

'Car,' echoes the Italian waiter, and gives me a suspicious look. 'You want coffee?'

'I'd… I'd like a cappuccino, please,' I say distractedly.

'And a selection of cakes,' adds Mum. 'Grazie!'

'Mum…' I put a hand to my head as the waiter disappears. 'What do you mean, you've bought

me a car?'

'Just a little run-around. You ought to have a car. It's not safe, you travelling on all these buses.

Grandpa's quite right.'

'But… but I can't afford a car,' I say stupidly. 'I can't even… what about the money I owe

you? What about-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad. 'We're going to wipe the slate clean.'

'What?' I stare at him, more bewildered than ever. 'But we can't do that! I still owe you-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad, a sudden edge to his voice. 'I want you to forget all about it,

Emma. You don't owe us anything. Nothing at all.'

I honestly cannot take all this in. I look confusedly from Dad to Mum. Then back to Dad.

Then, very slowly, back to Mum again.

And it's really strange. But it almost feels as though we're seeing each other properly for the

first time in years. As though we're seeing each other and saying hello and kind of… starting

again.

'We were wondering what you thought about taking a little holiday next year,' says Mum.

'With us.'

'Just… us?' I say, looking around the table.

'Just the three of us, we thought.' She gives me a tentative smile. 'It might be fun! You don't

have to, of course, if you've got other plans.'

'No! I'd like to!' I say quickly. 'I really would. But… but what about…'

I can't even bring myself to say Kerry's name.

There's a tiny silence, during which Mum and Dad look at each other, and then away again.

'Kerry sends her love, of course!' says Mum brightly, as though she's changing the subject

completely. She clears her throat. 'You know, she thought she might visit Hong Kong next

year. Visit her father. She hasn't seen him for at least five years, and maybe it's time they…

had some time together.'

'Right,' I say dazedly. 'Good idea.'

I can't believe this. Everything's changed. It's as if the entire family has been thrown up in the

air and has fallen down in different positions, and nothing's like it was before.

'We feel, Emma,' says Dad, and stops. 'We feel… that perhaps we haven't been… that

perhaps we haven't always noticed…' He breaks off and rubs his nose vigorously.

'Cappu-ccino,' says the waiter, planting a cup in front of me. 'Filter