Can You Keep A Secret?

comforting sounds around me. The old-fashioned grind and roar of the bus engine. The noise

of the doors swishing open and shut. The sharp ring of the request bell. People thumping up

the stairs and thumping back down again.

I can feel the bus lurch as we turn corners, but I'm barely aware of where we're going. Until

after a while, familiar sights outside start to impinge on my consciousness, and I realize we're

nearly at my street. I gather myself, reach for my bag, and totter along to the top of the stairs.

Suddenly the bus makes a sharp swing left, and I grab for a seat handle, trying to steady

myself. Why are we turning left? I look out of the window, thinking I'll be really pissed off if

I end up having to walk, and blink in astonishment.

Surely we're not-

Surely this can't be-

But we are. I peer down through the window, dumbfounded. We're in my tiny little road.

And now we've stopped outside my house.

I hurry down the stairs, nearly breaking my ankle, and stare at the driver.

'Number 41 Ellerwood Road,' he says with a flourish.

No. This can't be happening.

Bewildered, I look around the bus, and a couple of drunk teenagers stare blankly back.

'What's going on?' I look at the driver. 'Did he pay you?'

'Five hundred quid,' says the driver, and winks at me. 'Whoever he is, love, I'd hold onto him.'

Five hundred quid? Oh my God.

'Thanks,' I say dazedly. 'I mean, thanks for the ride.'

Feeling as though I'm in a dream, I get off the bus and head for the front door. But Lissy has

already got there and is opening it.

'Is that a bus?' she says, staring. 'What's it doing here?'

'It's my bus,' I say. 'It took me home.'

I wave to the driver, who waves back, and the bus rumbles off into the night.

'I don't believe it!' says Lissy slowly, gazing as it disappears round the corner. She turns to

look at me. 'So… it was OK in the end?'

'Yes,' I say. 'Yes. It was… OK.'

FOURTEEN

OK. Don't tell anyone. Do not tell anyone.

Do not tell anyone that you were on a date with Jack Harper last night.

I mean, not that I'm exactly pla

almost convinced I'm going to blurt it out by mistake.

Or someone's going to guess. I mean, surely it must be obvious from my face. From my

clothes, From the way I'm walking. I feel as though everything I do screams 'Hey, guess what

I did last night?'

'Hiya,' says Caroline as I make myself a cup of coffee. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine, thanks!' I say, giving a guilty jump. 'I just had a quiet evening in last night. Just…

really quiet! With my flatmate. We watched three videos, Pretty Woman, Notting Hill and

Four Weddings. Just the two of us. No-one else.'

'Right,' says Caroline, looking a bit bemused. 'Lovely!'

Oh God. I'm losing it. Everyone knows this is how criminals get caught. They add too many

details and trip themselves up.

Right, no more babbling. Stick to one-word answers.

'Hi,' says Artemis as I sit down at my desk.

'Hi,' I say, forcing myself not to add anything else. Not even about which kind of pizza Lissy

and I ordered, even though I've got a whole story ready about how the pizza company thought

we said green pepper instead of pepperoni, ha ha, what a mix-up.

I'm supposed to be doing some filing this morning, but instead I find myself taking out a piece

of paper and starting a list of possible date venues where I can take Jack tonight.

1. Pub. No. Far too boring.

2. Movie. No. Too much sitting, not talking to each other.

3. Ice skating. I have no idea why I put that, since I can't even skate. Except it was in Splash.

God, I've run out of ideas already. How crap is this? I stare at the sheet blankly, half-tuning

into the idle conversation which is going on around me.

'… really working on some secret project, or is that just a rumour?'

'… company in a new direction, apparently, but no-one knows exactly what he's…'

'… is this Sven guy anyway? I mean, what function does he have?'

'He's with Jack, isn't he?' says Amy, who works in Finance but fancies Nick, so is always

finding excuses to come into our office. 'He's Jack's lover.'

'What?' I say, suddenly sitting up, and snapping the end of my pencil. Luckily everyone's too

busy gossiping to notice.

Jack gay? Jack gay?

That's why he didn't kiss me goodnight. He only wants me to be a friend. He'll introduce me

to Sven and I'll have to pretend to be all cool with it, like I knew all along-

'Is Jack Harper gay?' Caroline is saying in astonishment.

'I just assumed he was,' says Amy with a shrug. 'He looks gay, don't you think?'

'Not really,' says Caroline, screwing up her face. 'Not groomed enough.'

'I don't think he looks gay!' I say, trying to sound light-hearted and just kind of vaguely

interested.

'He's not gay,' chimes in Artemis authoritatively. 'I read a old profile of him in Newsweek, and

he was dating the female president of Origin Software. And it said before that he went out

with some supermodel.'

A huge surge of relief floods through me.

I knew he wasn't gay. Obviously I knew he wasn't gay-

Honestly, do these people have nothing better to do than engage in stupid mindless

speculation about people they don't know?

'So is Jack seeing anyone at the moment?'

'Who knows?'

'He's pretty sexy, don't you think?' says Caroline with a wicked grin. 'I wouldn't mind.'

'Yeah right,' says Nick. 'You probably wouldn't mind his private jet, either.'

'Apparently, he hasn't had a relationship since Pete Laidler died,' says Artemis crisply. 'So I

doubt you've got much of a chance.'

'Bad luck, Caroline,' says Nick, with a laugh.

I feel really uncomfortable, listening to this. Maybe I should leave the room until they've

stopped. But then, maybe that would draw attention to myself.

Just for an instant, I find myself imagining what would happen if I stood up and said,

'Actually I had di

maybe somebody would gasp, and…

Oh, who am I kidding? They wouldn't even believe me, would they? They'd say I was

suffering from delusions.

'Hi, Co

Co

my desk with a wounded look on his face.

What's he doing here?

Has he found out about me and Jack?

My heart starts to thump hard and I nervously push my hair back. I've spotted him a couple of

times around the building, but this is our first moment face to face, since we broke up.

'Hi,' he says.

'Hi,' I reply awkwardly, and there's silence.

Suddenly I notice my unfinished list of date ideas lying prominently on my desk. Shit. As

casually as possible I reach for it, screw it up and nonchalantly drop it in the bin.

All the gossip about Sven and Jack has petered out. I know everyone in the office is listening

to us, even if they're pretending to be doing something else. It's like we're the in-house soap

opera or something.

And I know which character I am. I'm the heartless bitch who chucked her lovely, decent man

for no good reason.

Oh God. The thing is, I do feel guilty, I really do. Every time I see Co