Can You Keep A Secret?

I finally get the door open, run outside and down the road, not looking right or left. At last I

come to a halt, sink down on a bench and bury my head in my hands.

My body is still reverberating with shock.

I can barely form a coherent thought.

I have never been so completely and utterly embarrassed in all my life.

TWENTY

'Are you OK? Emma?'

I've been sitting on the bench for about five minutes, staring down at the pavement, my mind

a whirl of confusion. Now there's a voice in my ear, above the everyday street sounds of

people walking by and buses grinding and cars hooting. It's a man's voice. I open my eyes,

blink in the sunlight and stare dazedly at a pair of green eyes that seem familiar.

Then suddenly I realize. It's Aidan from the smoothie bar.

'Is everything all right?' he's saying. 'Are you OK?'

For a few moments I can't quite reply. All my emotions have been scattered on the floor like a

dropped tea tray, and I'm not sure which one to pick up first.

'I think that would have to be a no,' I say at last. 'I'm not OK. I'm not OK at all.'

'Oh.' He looks alarmed. 'Well… is there anything I can-'

'Would you be OK if all your secrets had been revealed on television by a man you trusted?' I

say shakily. 'Would you be OK if you'd just been mortified in front of all your friends and

colleagues and family?'

There's a bemused silence.

'Would you?'

'Er… probably not?' he hazards hurriedly.

'Exactly! I mean, how would you feel if someone revealed in public that you… you wore

women's underwear?'

He turns pale with shock.

'I don't wear women's underwear!'

'I know you don't wear women's underwear!' I expostulate. 'Or rather, I don't know that you

don't, but just assuming for a moment that you did. How would you like it if someone just told

everyone in a so-called business interview on television?'

Aidan stares at me, as though his mind is suddenly putting two and two together.

'Wait a moment. That interview with Jack Harper. Is that what you're talking about? We had it

on in the smoothie bar.'

'Oh great!' I throw my hands in the air. 'Just great! Because you know, it would be a shame if

anyone in the entire universe had missed it.'

'So, that's you? Who reads fifteen horoscopes a day and lies about her…' He breaks off at my

expression. 'Sorry. Sorry. You must be feeling very hurt.'

'Yes. I am. I'm feeling hurt. And angry. And embarrassed.'

And I'm confused, I add silently. I'm so confused and shocked and bewildered I feel as though

I can barely keep my balance on this bench. In the space of a few minutes, my entire world

has turned upside down.

I thought Jack loved me. I thought he-

I thought he and I-

A searing pain suddenly hits me, and I bury my head in my hands.

'So, how did he know so much about you?' Aidan's saying tentatively. 'Are you and he… an

item?'

'We met on a plane.' I look up, trying to keep control of myself. 'And… I spent the entire

journey telling him everything about myself. And then we went on a few dates, and I thought

…' My voice is starting to jump about. 'I honestly thought it might be… you know.' I feel my

cheeks flame crimson. 'The real thing. But the truth is, he was never interested in me, was he?

Not really. He just wanted to find out what an ordinary girl-on-the-street was like. For his

stupid target market. For his stupid new women's line.'

As the realization hits me properly for the first time, a tear rolls down my cheek, swiftly

followed by another one.

Jack used me.

That's why he asked me out to di

found everything I said so interesting. That's why he was gripped.

It wasn't love. It was business.

Suddenly, without meaning to, I give a sob.

'I'm sorry,' I gulp. 'I'm sorry. I just… it's just been such a shock.'

'Don't worry,' says Aidan sympathetically. 'It's a completely natural reaction.' He shakes his

head. 'I don't know much about big business, but it seems to me these guys don't get to the top

without trampling over a few people on the way. They'd have to be pretty ruthless to be so

successful.' He pauses, watching as I try, only half successfully, to stop my tears. 'Emma, can

I offer a word of advice?'

'What?' I look up, wiping my eyes.

'Take it out in your kick-boxing. Use the aggression. Use the hurt.'

I stare at him in disbelief. Was he not listening?

'Aidan, I don't do kick-boxing!' I hear myself crying shrilly. 'I don't kick-box, OK? I never

have!'

'You don't?' He looks confused. 'But you said-'

'I was lying!'

There's a short pause.

'Right,' says Aidan at last. 'Well… no worries! You could go for something with lower

impact. T'ai Chi, maybe…' He gazes at me uncertainly. 'Listen, do you want a drink?

Something to calm you down? I could make you a mango-banana blend with camomile

flowers, throw in some soothing nutmeg.'

'No thanks.' I blow my nose, take a deep breath, then reach for my bag. 'I think I'll go home,

actually.'

'Will you be OK?'

'I'll be fine.' I force a smile. 'I'm fine.'

But of course that's a lie too. I'm not fine at all. As I sit on the tube going home, tears pour

down my face, one by one, landing in big wet drips on my skirt. People are staring at me, but

I don't care. Why should I care? I've already suffered the worst embarrassment possible; a few

extra people gawping is neither here nor there.

I feel so stupid. So stupid.

Of course we weren't soulmates. Of course he wasn't genuinely interested in me. Of course he

never loved me.

A fresh pain rushes through me and I scrabble for a tissue.

'Don't worry, darling!' says a large lady sitting to my left, wearing a voluminous print dress

covered with pineapples. 'He's not worth it! Now you just go home, wash your face, have a

nice cup of tea…'

'How do you know she's crying over a man?' chimes in a woman in a dark suit aggressively.

'That is such a cliched, counter-feminist perspective. She could be crying over anything! A

piece of music, a line of poetry, world famine, the political situation in the Middle East.' She

looks at me expectantly.

'Actually, I was crying over a man,' I admit.

The tube stops, and the woman in the dark suit rolls her eyes at us and gets out. The pineapple

lady rolls her eyes back.

'World famine!' she says scornfully, and I can't help giving a half-giggle. 'Now, don't you

worry, love.' She gives me a comforting pat on the shoulder as I dab at my eyes. 'Have a nice

cup of tea, and a few nice chocolate digestives, and have a nice chat with your mum. You've

still got your mum, haven't you?'

'Actually, we're not really speaking at the moment,' I confess.

'Well then, your dad?'

Tacitly, I shake my head.

'Well… how about your best friend? You must have a best friend!' The pineapple lady gives

me a comforting smile.

'Yes, I have got a best friend,' I gulp. 'But she's just been informed on national television that

I've been having secret lesbian fantasies about her.'

The pineapple lady stares at me silently for a few moments.

'Have a nice cup of tea,' she says at last, with less conviction. 'And… good luck, dear.'

I make my way slowly back from the tube station to our street. As I reach the corner I stop,

blow my nose, and take a few deep breaths. The pain in my chest has receded slightly, and in