Can You Keep A Secret?

'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 ca

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 co—ffee, cappu-ccino…

coffee cake … lemon cake … chocolate-'

'Thank you!' interrupts Mum. 'Thank you so much. I think we can manage from here.' The

waiter disappears again, and she looks at me. 'Emma, what we want to say is… we're very

proud of you.'

Oh God. Oh God, I think I'm going to cry.

'Right,' I manage.

'And we…' Dad begins. 'That is to say, we both — your mother and I -' He clears his throat.

'We've always… and always will… both of us…'

He pauses, breathing rather hard. I don't quite dare say anything.

'What I'm trying to say, Emma,' he starts again. 'As I'm sure you… as I'm sure we all…

which is to say…'

He stops again, and wipes his perspiring face with a napkin.

'The fact of the matter is that… is that…'

'Oh, just tell your daughter you love her, Brian, for once in your bloody life!' cries Mum.

'I… I… love you, Emma!' says Dad in a choked-up voice. 'Oh Jesus.' He brushes roughly at

his eye.

'I love you too, Dad,' I say, my throat tight. 'And you, Mum.'

'You see!' says Mum, dabbing at her eye. 'I knew it wasn't a mistake to come!' She clutches

hold of my hand, and I clutch hold of Dad's hand, and for a moment we're in a kind of

awkward group hug.

'You know… we're all sacred links in the eternal circle of life,' I say with a sudden swell of

emotion.

'What?' Both my parents look at me blankly.

'Er, never mind. Doesn't matter.' I release my hand, take a sip of cappuccino, and look up.

And my heart nearly stops.

Jack is standing at the door of the coffee shop.

TWENTY-TWO

My heart is hammering in my chest as I stare at him through the glass doors. He puts out a

hand, the door pings, and suddenly he's inside the coffee shop.

As he walks towards our table, I feel a rush of emotion. This is the man I thought I was in

love with. This is the man who completely used me. Now the initial shock has faded, all the

old feelings of pain and humiliation are threatening to take over and turn me to jelly again.

But I'm not going to let them. I'm going to be strong and dignified.

'Ignore him,' I say to Mum and Dad.

'Who?' says Dad, turning round in his chair. 'Oh!'

'Emma, I want to talk to you,' says Jack, his face earnest.

'Well, I don't want to talk to you.'

'I'm so sorry to interrupt.' He glances at Mum and Dad. 'If we could just have a moment…'

'I'm not going anywhere!' I say in outrage. 'I'm having a nice cup of coffee with my parents.'

'Please.' He sits down at an adjoining table. 'I want to explain. I want to apologize.'

'There's no explanation you could possibly give me.' I look fiercely at Mum and Dad. 'Pretend