Can You Keep A Secret?

mortification. No-one was supposed to know about my Barbie bedcover. No-one.

'Is she sexy?' the interviewer is asking, and my heart gives a huge jump. I stare at the screen,

unable to breathe for apprehension. What's he going to say?

'She's very sexual,' says Jack at once, and all eyes swivel towards me, agog. 'This is a modern

girl who carries condoms in her purse.'

OK. Every time I think this can't get any worse, it does.

My mother is watching this. My mother.

'But maybe she hasn't reached her full potential… maybe there's a side of her which has been

frustrated…'

I can't look at Co

'Maybe she's willing to experiment… maybe she's had — I don't know — a lesbian fantasy

about her best friend.'

No! No! My entire body clenches in horror. I have a sudden image of Lissy watching the

screen at home, wide-eyed, clasping a hand over her mouth. She'll know it was her. I will

never be able to look her in the eye again.

'It was a dream, OK?' I manage desperately, as everyone gawps at me. 'Not a fantasy. They're

different!'

I feel like throwing myself at the television. Draping my arms over it. Stopping him.

But it wouldn't do any good, would it? A million TVs are on, in a million homes. People,

everywhere, are watching.

'She believes in love and romance. She believes her life is one day going to be transformed

into something wonderful and exciting. She has hopes and fears and worries, just like anyone.

Sometimes she feels frightened.' He pauses, and adds in a softer voice, 'Sometimes she feels

unloved. Sometimes she feels she will never gain approval from those people who are most

important to her.'

As I stare at Jack's warm, serious face on the screen, I feel my eyes stinging slightly.

'But she's brave and goodhearted and faces her life head on…' He shakes his head dazedly

and smiles at the interviewer. 'I'm… I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened there. I guess I

got a little carried away. Could we-' His voice is abruptly cut off by the interviewer.

Carried away.

He got a little carried away.

This is like saying Hitler was a tad aggressive.

'Jack Harper, many thanks for talking to us,' the interviewer starts saying. 'Next week, we'll be

chatting to the charismatic king of motivational videos, Ernie Powers. Meanwhile, many

thanks again to…'

Everyone stares at the screen as she finishes her spiel and the programme's music starts. Then

someone leans forward and switches the television off.

For a few seconds the entire room is silent. Everyone is gaping at me, as though they're

expecting me to make a speech, or do a little dance or something. Some faces are sympathetic,

some are curious, some are gleeful and some are just Jeez-am-I-glad-I'm-not-you.

Now I know exactly how zoo animals feel.

I am never visiting a zoo again.

'But… but I don't understand,' comes a voice from across the room, and all the heads swivel

avidly towards Co

'How does Jack Harper know so much about you?'

Oh God. I know Co

But sometimes he is so slow on the uptake.

The heads have swivelled back towards me again.

'I…' My whole body is prickling with embarrassment. 'Because we… we…'

I can't say it out loud. I just can't.

But I don't have to. Co

'No,' he gulps, staring at me as though he's seen a ghost. And not just any old ghost. A really

big ghost with clanky chains going 'Whoooarr!'

'No,' he says again. 'No. I don't believe it.'

'Co

'Co

'You're joking!' exclaims some guy in the corner, who is obviously even slower than Co

and has just had it spelled out to him, word for word. He looks up at me. 'So how long has this

been going on?'

It's as if he opened the floodgates. Suddenly everyone in the entire room starts pitching

questions at me. I can't hear myself think for the babble.

'Is that why he came to Britain? To see you?'

'Are you going to marry him?'

'You know, you don't look like weigh 135 pounds…'

'Do you really have a Barbie bedspread?'

'So in the lesbian fantasy, was it just the two of you, or…'

'Have you had sex with Jack Harper at the office?'

'Is that why you dumped Co

I can't cope with this. I have to get out of here. Now.

Without looking at anyone, I get to my feet and stumble out of the room. As I head down the

corridor, I'm too dazed to think of anything other than I must get my bag and go. Now.

I enter the empty marketing department, where phones are shrilly ringing around. The habit's

too ingrained, I can't ignore them.

'Hello?' I say, picking up one randomly.

'So!' comes Jemima's furious voice. '"She borrows designer shoes from her flatmate and

passes them off as her own." Whose shoes might those be, then? Lissy's?'

'Look, Jemima, can I just… I'm sorry… I have to go,' I say feebly, and put the phone down.

No more phones. Get bag. Go.

As I zip up my bag with trembling hands, a couple of people who have followed me into the

office are picking up some of the ringing phones.

'Emma, your grandad's on the line,' says Artemis, putting her hand over the receiver.

'Something about the night bus and he'll never trust you again?'

'You have a call from Harvey's Bristol Cream publicity department,' chimes in Caroline. 'They

want to know where they can send you a free case of sweet sherry?'

'How did they get my name? How? Has the word spread already? Are the women on

reception telling everybody?'

'Emma, I have your dad here,' says Nick. 'He says he needs to talk to you urgently…'

'I can't,' I say numbly. 'I can't talk to anybody. I have to… I have to…'

I grab my jacket and almost run out of the office and down the corridor to the stairs.

Everywhere, people are making their way back to their offices after watching the interview,

and they all stare at me as I hurry by.

'Emma!' As I'm nearing the stairs, a woman named Fiona, whom I barely know, grabs me by

the arm. She weighs about 300 pounds and is always campaigning for bigger chairs and wider

doorways. 'Never be ashamed of your body. Rejoice in it! The earth mother has given it to

you! If you want to come to our workshop on Saturday…'

I tear my arm away in horror, and start clattering down the marble stairs. But as I reach the

next floor, someone else grabs my arm.

'Hey, can you tell me which charity shops you go to?' It's a girl I don't even recognize.

'Because you always look really well dressed to me…'

'I adore Barbie dolls too!' Carol Finch from Accounts is suddenly in my path. 'Shall we start a

club together, Emma?'

'I… I really have to go.'

I back away, then start ru

directions.

'I didn't realize I was a lesbian till I was thirty-three…'

'A lot of people are confused about religion. This is a leaflet about our Bible study group…'

'Leave me alone!' I yell in anguish. 'Everyone just leave me alone!'

I sprint for the entrance, the voices following me, echoing on the marble floor. As I'm

frantically pushing against the heavy glass doors, Dave the security guard saunters up, and

stares right at my breasts.

'They look all right to me, love,' he says encouragingly.