'I know. I was in a hurry.'

This is Jean-Paul,' says Lissy. 'Jean-Paul, my flatmate Emma.'

'Hello, Jean-Paul,' I say with a friendly smile.

'Good to meet you, Emma,' says Jean-Paul, in a French accent.

God, French accents are sexy. I mean, they just are.

'Jean-Paul and I were just … um … going over some case notes,' says Lissy.

'Oh right,' I say brightly. 'Lovely!'

Case notes. Yeah, right. Because that would really make a whole load of thumping noises.

Lissy is such a dark horse!

'I must be going,' says Jean-Paul, looking at Lissy.

'I'll just see you out,' she says, flustered.

She disappears out of the front door, and I can hear the two of them murmuring on the landing.

I take a few more swigs of Evian, then walk into the sitting room and slump down heavily on the sofa. My whole body's aching from sitting rigid with tension all day. This is seriously bad for my health. How on earth am I going to survive a whole week of Jack Harper?

'So!' I say as Lissy walks back into the room. 'What's going on?'

'What do you mean?' she says shiftily.

'You and Jean-Paul! How long have you two been …'

'We're not,' starts Lissy, turning red. 'It's not … We were going over case notes. That's all.'

'Sure you were.'

'We were! That's all it was!'

'OK,' I say, raising my eyebrows. 'If you say so.'

Lissy sometimes gets like this, all shy and abashed. I'll just have to get her pissed one night, and she'll admit it.

'So how was your day?' she says, sinking onto the floor and reaching for a magazine.

How was my day?

I don't even know where to start.

'My day,' I say at last. 'My day was a bit of a nightmare.'

'Really?' says Lissy, looking up in surprise.

'No, take that back. It was a complete nightmare.'

'What happened?' Lissy's attention is fully grabbed. 'Tell me!'

'OK.' I take a deep breath and smooth my hair back, wondering where on earth to start. 'OK, remember I had that awful flight back from Scotland last week?'

'Yes!' Lissy's face lights up. 'And Connor came to meet you and it was all really romantic …'

'Yes. Well.' I clear my throat. 'Before that. On the flight. There was this … this man sitting next to me. And the plane got really turbulent.' I bite my lip. 'And the thing is, I honestly thought we were all going to die and this was the last person I would ever see, and … I …'

'Oh my God!' Lissy claps her hand over her mouth. 'You didn't have sex with him.'

'Worse! I told him all my secrets.'

I'm expecting Lissy to gasp, or say something sympathetic like 'Oh no!' but she's staring at me blankly.

'What secrets?'

'My secrets. You know.'

Lissy looks as if I've told her I've got an artificial leg.

'You have secrets?'

'Of course I have secrets!' I say. 'Everyone has a few secrets.'

'I don't!' she says at once, looking offended. 'I don't have any secrets.'

'Yes you do!'

'Like what?'

'Like … like … OK.' I start counting off on my fingers. 'You never told your dad it was you who lost the garage key that time.'

'That was ages ago!' says Lissy scornfully.

'You never told Simon you were hoping he might propose to you …'

'I wasn't!' says Lissy, colouring. 'Well, OK, maybe I was …'

'You think that sad guy next door fancies you …'

'That's not a secret!' she says, rolling her eyes.

'Oh right. Shall I tell him, then?' I lean back towards the open window. 'Hey Mike,' I call. 'Guess what? Lissy thinks you—'

'Stop!' says Lissy frantically.

'You see? You have got secrets. Everyone has secrets. The Pope probably has a few secrets.'

'OK,' says Lissy. 'OK. You've made your point. But I don't understand what the problem is. So you told some guy on a plane your secrets—'

'And now he's turned up at work.'

'What?' Lissy stares at me. 'Are you serious? Who is he?'

'He's …' I'm about to say Jack Harper's name when I remember the promise I made. 'He's just this … this guy who's come in to observe,' I say vaguely.

'Is he senior?'

'He's … yes. You could say he's pretty senior.'

'Blimey.' Lissy frowns, thinking for a few moments. 'Well, does it really matter? If he knows a few things about you.'

'Lissy, it wasn't just a few things.' I feel myself flush slightly. 'It was everything. I told him I faked a grade on my CV.'

'You faked a grade on your CV?' echoes Lissy in shock. 'Are you serious?'

'I told him about feeding Artemis's spider plant orange juice, I told him I find G-strings uncomfortable …'

I tail off to see Lissy staring at me, aghast.

'Emma,' she says at last. 'Have you ever heard the phrase "too much information?"'

'I didn't mean to say any of it!' I retort defensively. 'It just kind of came out! I'd had three vodkas, and I thought we were about to die. Honestly, Lissy, you would have been the same. Everyone was screaming, people were praying, the plane was lurching around …'

'So you blab all your secrets to your boss.'

'But he wasn't my boss on the plane!' I cry in frustration. 'He was just some stranger. I was never supposed to see him again!'

There's silence as Lissy takes this all in.

'You know, this is like what happened to my cousin,' she says at last. 'She went to a party, and there, right in front of her, was the doctor who'd delivered her baby two months before.'

'Ooh.' I pull a face.

'Exactly! She said she was so embarrassed, she had to leave. I mean, he'd seen everything! She said somehow it didn't matter when she was in a hospital room, but when she saw him standing there, holding a glass of wine and chatting about house prices, it was a different matter.'

'Well, this is the same,' I say hopelessly. 'He knows all my most intimate, personal details. But the difference is, I can't just leave! I have to sit there and pretend to be a good employee. And he knows I'm not.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'I don't know! I suppose all I can do is try to avoid him.'

'How long is he over for?'

'The rest of the week,' I say despairingly. 'The whole week.'

I pick up the zapper and turn on the television and for a few moments we stare silently at a load of dancing models in Gap jeans.

The ad finishes, and I look up again, to see Lissy looking at me curiously.

'What?' I say. 'What is it?'

'Emma …' She clears her throat awkwardly. 'You don't have any secrets from me, do you?'

'From you?' I say, slightly thrown.

A series of images flashes rapidly through my mind. That weird dream I once had about Lissy and me being lesbians. Those couple of times I've bought supermarket carrots and sworn to her they were organic. The time when we were fifteen and she went to France and I got off with Mike Appleton whom she had a complete crush on, and never told her.

'No! Of course not!' I say, and quickly take a sip of water. 'Why? Have you got any from me?'

Two dots of pink appear on Lissy's cheeks.

'No, of course I haven't!' she says in an unnatural voice. 'I was just … wondering.' She reaches for the TV guide and starts to flip through it, avoiding my gaze. 'You know. Just out of interest.'

'Yes, well.' I give a shrug. 'So was I.'

Wow. Lissy's got a secret. I wonder what it—

Of course. Like she was really going over case notes with that guy. Does she think I'm a complete moron?


EIGHT


I arrive at work the next morning with exactly one aim. Avoid Jack Harper.

It should be easy enough. The Panther Corporation is a huge company in a huge building. He'll be busy in other departments today. He'll probably be tied up in loads of meetings. He'll probably spend all day on the eleventh floor or something.

Even so, as I approach the big glass doors, my pace slows down and I find myself peering inside to see if he's about.

'All right, Emma?' says Dave the security guard, coming to open the door for me. 'You look lost.'

'No! I'm fine, thanks!' I give a relaxed little laugh, my eyes darting about the foyer.

I can't see him anywhere. OK. This is going to be fine. He probably isn't in yet. He probably isn't even coming in today. I throw my hair back confidently, walk briskly across the marble floor, and start to walk up the stairs.

'Jack!' I suddenly hear as I'm nearing the first floor. 'Have you got a minute?'

'Sure.'

It's his voice. Where on earth—

I turn around, bewildered, and spot him on the landing above, talking to Graham Hillingdon. My heart gives a huge jump, and I clutch the brass banister. Shit. If he looked down now he'd see me.

Why does he have to stand right there? Doesn't he have some big important office he can go to?

Anyway. It doesn't matter. I'll just … take a different route. Very slowly I take a few steps back down the stairs, trying not to click my heels on the marble or move suddenly in case I attract his attention. Moira from Accounts walks past as I'm carefully stepping backwards and gives me an odd look, but I don't care. I have to get away.

As soon as I'm out of his view I feel myself relax, and walk more quickly back down to the foyer. I'll go by lift, instead. No problem. I step confidently across the floor, and I'm right in the middle of the huge expanse of marble when I freeze.

'That's right.' It's his voice again. And it seems to be getting nearer. Or am I just paranoid?