Can You Keep A Secret?

'Fine. OK, the next thing is, you can show an interest in his hobbies. What does he like?'

'Du

'Well then!' Jemima brightens. 'That's good. Pretend you like cars, suggest visiting a car show.

You could flick through a car magazine on the way there.'

'I can't,' I say, taking a glug from my pre-date relaxer glass of Harvey's Bristol Cream. 'I told

him on the plane that I hate vintage cars.'

'You did what?' Jemima looks as if she wants to hit me. 'You told the man you're dating that

you hate his favourite hobby?'

'I didn't know I would be going on a date with him then, did I?' I say defensively, reaching for

my foundation. 'And anyway, it's the truth. I hate vintage cars. The people in them always

look so smug and pleased with themselves.'

'What's the truth got to do with anything?' Jemima's voice rises in agitation. 'Emma, I'm sorry,

I can't help you. This is a disaster. You're completely vulnerable. It's like going into battle in a

nightie.'

'Jemima, this is not a battle,' I retort, rolling my eyes. 'And it's not a chess game. It's di

with a nice man!'

'You're so cynical, Jemima,' chimes in Lissy. 'I think it's really romantic! They're going to

have the perfect date, because there won't be any of that awkwardness. He knows what Emma

likes. He knows what she's interested in. They're obviously already completely compatible.'

'Well, I wash my hands of it,' says Jemima, still shaking her head. 'What are you going to

wear?' Her eyes narrow. 'Where's your outfit?'

'My black dress,' I say i

where my black dress is hanging up.

Jemima's eyes narrow even further. She would have made a really good SS officer, I often

think.

'You're not going to borrow anything of mine.'

'No!' I say indignantly. 'Honestly Jemima, I do have my own clothes, you know.'

'Fine. Well. Have a good time.'

Lissy and I wait until her footsteps have tapped down the corridor and the front door has

slammed.

'Right!' I say excitedly, but Lissy lifts a hand.

'Wait.'

We both sit completely still for a couple of minutes. Then we hear the sound of the front door

being opened very quietly.

'She's trying to catch us out,' hisses Lissy. 'Hi!' she says, raising her voice. 'Is anyone there?'

'Oh hi,' says Jemima, appearing at the door of the room. 'I forgot my lip-gloss.' Her eyes do a

quick sweep of the room.

'I don't think you'll find it in here,' says Lissy i

'No. Well.' Her eyes travel suspiciously round the room again. 'OK. Have a nice evening.'

Again her footsteps tap down the corridor, and again the front door slams.

'Right!' says Lissy. 'Let's go.'

We unpeel the Sellotape from Jemima's door, and Lissy makes a little mark where it was.

'Wait!' she says, as I'm about to push the door open. 'There's another one at the bottom.'

'You should have been a spy,' I say, watching her carefully peel it off.

'OK,' she says, her brow furrowed in concentration. 'There have to be some more booby traps.'

'There's Sellotape on the wardrobe, too,' I say. 'And… Oh my God!' I point up. A glass of

water is balanced on top of the wardrobe, ready to drench us if we open the door.

'That cow!' says Lissy as I reach up for it. 'You know, I had to spend all evening fielding calls

for her the other night, and she wasn't even grateful.'

She waits until I've put the water down safely, then reaches for the door. 'Ready?'

'Ready.'

Lissy takes a deep breath, then opens the wardrobe door. Immediately, a loud, piercing siren

begins to wail. 'Wee-oo wee-oo wee-oo…'

'Shit!' she says, banging the door shut. 'Shit! How did she do that?'

'It's still going!' I say agitatedly. 'Make it stop. Make it stop!'

'I don't know how to! You probably need a special code!'

We're both jabbing frantically at the wardrobe, patting it, searching for an off-switch.

'I can't see a button, or a switch or anything…'

Abruptly the noise stops, and we stare at each other, panting slightly.

'Actually,' says Lissy after a long pause. 'Actually, I think that might have been a car alarm

outside.'

'Oh,' I say. 'Oh right. Yes, maybe it was.'

Looking a bit sheepish, Lissy reaches for the door again, and this time it's silent. 'OK,' she

says. 'Here goes.'

'Wow,' we breathe as one as she swings the door open.

Jemima's wardrobe is like a treasure chest. It's like a Christmas stocking. It's new, shiny,

gorgeous clothes, one after another, all neatly folded and hung on scented hangers, like in a

shop. All the shoes in shoe-boxes with Polaroids on the front. All the belts hanging neatly

from hooks. All the bags are neatly lined up on a shelf. It's a while since I borrowed anything

from Jemima, and every single item seems to have changed since then.

'She must spend about an hour a day keeping this tidy,' I say with a slight sigh, thinking of the

jumble of my own wardrobe.

'She does,' says Lissy. 'I've seen her.'

Mind you, Lissy's wardrobe is even worse. It consists of a chair in her room, on which

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 di

'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 di

'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.