Can You Keep A Secret?

'… and you never really cook the food at your di

'… and that photo of you meeting Prince William is faked…'

'… and we'll tell every single man you ever date from now on that all you're after is a rock on

your finger!' I finish, and glance gratefully at Lissy.

'OK!' says Jemima, practically in tears. 'OK! I promise I'll forget all about it. I promise. Just

please don't mention the discount warehouse shop. Please. Can I go now?' She looks

imploringly at Lissy.

'Yes, you can go,' says Lissy contemptuously, and Jemima scuttles out of the room. As the

door closes, I stare at Lissy.

'Is that photo of Jemima and Prince William really faked?'

'Yes! Didn't I tell you? I once did some stuff for her on her computer, and I opened the file by

mistake — and there it was. She just pasted her head onto some other girl's body!'

I can't help giving a giggle.

'That girl is unbelievable.'

I sink into a chair, feeling suddenly weak, and for a while there's silence. In the distance

there's a roar of laughter from the party, and somebody walks past the door of the office,

talking about the trouble with the judiciary system as it stands …

'Wouldn't he even listen?' says Lissy at last.

'No. He just left.'

'Isn't that a bit extreme? I mean, he gave away all your secrets. You only gave away one of

his-'

'You don't understand,' I stare at the drab brown office carpet. 'What Jack told me, it's not just

anything. It's something really precious to him. He came all the way here to tell me. To show

me that he trusted me with it.' I swallow hard. 'And the next moment he finds me spilling it to

a journalist.'

'But you weren't!' says Lissy loyally. 'Emma, this wasn't your fault!'

'It was!' Tears are welling up in my eyes. 'If I'd just kept my mouth closed, if I'd never told

Jemima anything in the first place…'

'She would have got him anyway,' says Lissy. 'He'd be suing you for a scraped car instead. Or

damaged genitals.'

I give a shaky laugh.

The door bursts open, and the feathered guy I saw backstage looks in. 'Lissy! There you are.

They're serving food. It looks rather good, actually.'

'OK,' she says. 'Thanks, Colin. I'll be along in a minute.'

He leaves and Lissy turns to me.

'Do you want something to eat?'

'I'm not really hungry. But you go,' I add quickly. 'You must be starving after your

performance.'

'I am rather ravenous,' she admits. Then she gives me an anxious look. 'But what will you do?'

'I'll… just go home,' I say, and try to smile as cheerfully as I can. 'Don't worry, Lissy, I'll be

fine.'

And I am pla

wound up with tension like a metal coil. I can't face going into the party and having to make

small talk — but I can't face the four silent walls of my bedroom either. Not quite yet.

Instead, I head across the gravel, towards the empty auditorium. The door is unlocked and I

walk straight in. I make my way through the darkness to a seat in the middle, and wearily sit

down on the cushiony purple plush.

And as I stare at the silent blackness of the empty stage, two fat tears make their way out of

my eyes and trickle slowly down my face. I ca

can't believe Jack really thinks I… that he thinks I would…

I keep seeing the shock on his face. I keep reliving that trapped powerlessness, that

desperation to speak; to explain myself.

If I could just replay it…

Suddenly there's a creaking sound. The door is slowly opening.

I peer uncertainly through the gloom as a figure comes into the auditorium and stops. In spite

of myself, my heart starts to thud with unbearable hope.

It's Jack. It has to be Jack. He's come to find me.

There's a long, agonizing silence. I'm taut with apprehension. Why won't he say anything?

Why won't he speak?

Is he punishing me? Is he expecting me to apologize again? Oh God, this is torture. Just say

something, I plead silently. Just say something.

'Oh Francesca…'

'Co

What? I peer again, more sharply, and feel a crash of disappointment. I am such a moron. It's

not Jack. It's not one figure, it's two. It's Co

they're snogging.

Miserably, I shrink right down in my seat, trying to block my ears. But it's no good, I can hear

everything.

'Do you like this?' I hear Co

'Mmm…'

'Do you really like it?'

'Of course I do! Stop quizzing me!'

'Sorry,' says Co

'Do you like this?' his voice suddenly comes again.

'I already told you I did.'

'Francesca, be honest, OK?' Co

then-'

'It doesn't mean no! Co

'My problem is, I don't believe you.'

'You don't believe me?' She sounds furious. 'Why the hell don't you believe me?'

Suddenly I'm filled with remorse. This is all my fault. Not only have I wrecked my own

relationship, now I've wrecked theirs too. I have to do something. I have to try to build

bridges.

I clear my throat. 'Er… excuse me?'

'Who the fuck's that?' says Francesca sharply. 'Is someone there?'

'It's me. Emma. Co

A row of lights goes on, and I see a girl with red hair staring at me belligerently, with her

hand on the light switch.

'What the hell are you doing? Spying on us?'

'No!' I say. 'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I couldn't help overhearing…' I swallow.

'The thing is, Co

what you want.' I summon up my most understanding, womanly expression. 'Francesca… tell

him what you want.'

Francesca stares at me incredulously, then looks at Co

'I want her to piss off.' She points at me.

'Oh,' I say, taken aback. 'Er, OK. Sorry.'

'And switch the lights off when you go,' adds Francesca, leading Co

the back of the auditorium.

Are they going to have sex?

OK, I really do not want to be around for this.

Hastily I pick up my bag and hurry along the row of seats towards the exit. I push my way

through the double doors into the foyer, flicking the light switch as I pass, then step out into

the courtyard. I close the door behind me, and look up.

And then I freeze.

I don't believe it. It's Jack.

It's Jack, coming towards me, striding fast across the courtyard, determination on his face. I

haven't got time to think, or prepare.

My heart really is racing. I want to speak or cry or… do something, but I can't.

He reaches me with a crunch of gravel, takes me by the shoulders, and gives me a long,

intense look.

'I'm afraid of the dark.'

'What?' I falter.

'I'm afraid of the dark. Always have been. I keep a baseball bat under the bed, just in case.'

I stare at him in utter bewilderment.

'Jack-'

'I've never liked caviar.' He casts around. 'I… I'm embarrassed by my French accent.'

'Jack, what are you-'

'I got the scar on my wrist by cracking open a bottle of beer when I was fourteen. When I was

a kid I used to stick gum under my Aunt Francine's dining table. I lost my virginity to a girl

named Lisa Greenwood in her uncle's barn, and afterwards I asked if I could keep her bra to

show my friends.'

I can't help giving a snuffle of laughter, but Jack carries on regardless, his gaze fixed on mine.