'… think I'll take a good look at …'

My head swivels around. Where is he now? Which direction is he going in?

'… really think that …'

Shit. He's coming down the stairs. There's nowhere to hide!

Without thinking twice I almost run to the glass doors, push them open, and hurry out of the building. I scuttle down the steps, run about a hundred yards down the road and stop, panting.

This is not going well.

I stand on the pavement for a few minutes in the morning sunshine, trying to estimate how long he will stay in the foyer, then cautiously approach the glass doors again. New tactic. I will walk to my office so incredibly quickly, I can't catch anyone's eye. So it won't matter if I pass Jack Harper or not. I will simply stride along without looking right or left and oh my God there he is, talking to Dave.

Without quite meaning to, I find myself running back down the steps and along the street again.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't stay out here on the street all day. I have to get to my desk. Come on, think. There must be a way round this. There must be—

Yes! I have a totally brilliant idea. This will definitely work.

Three minutes later I approach the doors of the Panther building once more, totally engrossed in an article in The Times. I can't see anything around me. And no-one can see my face. This is the perfect disguise!

I push the door open with my shoulder, walk across the foyer and up the stairs, all without looking up. As I stride along the corridor towards the marketing department, I feel all cocooned and safe, buried in my Times. I should do this more often. No-one can get me in here. It's a really reassuring feeling, almost as though I'm invisible, or—

'Ow! Sorry!'

I've crashed into someone. Shit. I lower my paper, to see Paul staring at me, rubbing his head.

'Emma, what the fuck are you doing?'

'I was just reading The Times,' I say feebly. 'I'm really sorry.'

'All right. Anyway, where the hell have you been? I want you to do teas and coffees at the departmental meeting. Ten o'clock.'

'What teas and coffees?' I say, puzzled. They don't usually have any refreshments at the departmental meeting. In fact, usually only about six people turn up.

'We're having teas and coffees today,' he says. 'And biscuits. All right? Oh, and Jack Harper's coming along.'

'What?' I stare at him in consternation.

'Jack Harper's coming along,' repeats Paul impatiently. 'So hurry up.'

'Do I have to go?' I say before I can stop myself.

'What?' Paul stares at me with a blank frown.

'I was just wondering if I … have to go, or whether …' I tail off feebly.

'Emma, if you can serve tea and coffee by telepathy,' says Paul sarcastically, 'then you're more than welcome to stay at your desk. If not, would you most kindly get your arse in gear and up to the conference room. You know, for someone who wants to advance their career … 'He shakes his head and stalks off.

How can this day have gone so wrong already and I haven't even sat down yet?

I dump my bag and jacket at my desk, hurry back down the corridors to the lifts, and press the Up button. A moment later, one pings in front of me, and the doors open.

No. No.

This is a bad dream.

Jack Harper is standing alone in the lift, in old jeans and a brown cashmere sweater.

Before I can stop myself I take a startled step backwards. Jack Harper puts his mobile phone away, tilts his head to one side and gives me a quizzical look.

'Are you getting into the elevator?' he says mildly.

I'm stuffed. What can I say? I can't say 'No, I just pressed the button for fun, haha!'

'Yes,' I say at last and walk into the lift with stiff legs. 'Yes I am.'

The doors close, and we begin to travel upwards in silence. I've got a knot of tension in my stomach.

'Erm, Mr Harper,' I say awkwardly, and he looks up. 'I just wanted to apologize for my … for the, um, shirking episode the other day. It won't happen again.'

'You have drinkable coffee now,' says Jack Harper, raising his eyebrows. 'So you shouldn't need to go to Starbucks, at any rate.'

'I know. I'm really sorry,' I say, my face hot. 'And may I assure you, that was the very last time I will ever do such a thing.' I clear my throat. 'I am fully committed to the Panther Corporation, and I look forward to serving this company as best as I can, giving one hundred per cent, every day, now and in the future.'

I almost want to add 'Amen'.

'Really.' Jack looks at me, his mouth twitching. 'That's … great.' He thinks for a moment. 'Emma, can you keep a secret?'

'Yes,' I say apprehensively. 'What is it?'

Jack leans close and whispers, 'I used to play hookey too.'

'What?' I stare at him.

'In my first job,' he continues in his normal voice. 'I had a friend I used to hang out with. We had a code, too.' His eyes twinkle. 'One of us would ask the other to bring him the Leopold file.'

'What was the Leopold file?'

'It didn't exist.' He grins. 'It was just an excuse to get away from our desks.'

'Oh. Oh right!'

Suddenly I feel a bit better.

Jack Harper used to skive? I would have thought he was too busy being a brilliant creative dynamic genius, or whatever he is.

The lift stops at floor 3 and the doors open, but no-one gets in.

'So, your colleagues seemed a very pleasant lot,' says Jack as we start travelling up again. 'A very friendly, industrious team. Are they like that all the time?'

'Absolutely!' I say at once. 'We enjoy cooperating with one another, in an integrated, team-based … um … operational …' I'm trying to think of another long word when I make the mistake of catching his eye.

He knows this is bullshit, doesn't he?

Oh God. What is the point?

'OK.' I lean against the lift wall. 'In real life, we don't behave anything like that. Paul usually shouts at me six times a day, and Nick and Artemis hate each other, and we don't usually sit around discussing literature. We were all faking it.'

'You amaze me.' His mouth twitches. 'The atmosphere in the admin department also seemed very false. My suspicions were aroused when two employees spontaneously started singing the Panther Corporation song. I didn't even know there was a Panther Corporation song.'

'Neither did I,' I say in surprise. 'Is it any good?'

'What do you think?' He raises his eyebrows comically and I give a little giggle.

It's bizarre, but the atmosphere between us isn't remotely awkward any more. In fact, it almost feels like we're old friends or something.

'How about this Corporate Family Day?' he says. 'Looking forward to it?'

'Like having teeth pulled out,' I say bluntly.

'I got that vibe.' He nods, looking amused. 'And what …' He hesitates. 'What do people think about me?' He casually rumples his hair. 'You don't have to answer if you don't want to.'

'No, everyone likes you!' I think for a few moments. 'Although … some people think your friend is creepy.'

'Who, Sven?' Jack stares at me for a minute, then throws back his head and laughs. 'I can assure you, Sven is one of my oldest, closest friends, and he's not in the least bit creepy. In fact—'

He breaks off as the lift doors ping. We both snap back into impassive expressions and move slightly away from each other. The doors open, and my stomach gives a lurch.

Connor is standing on the other side.

As he sees Jack Harper his face lights up as though he can't believe his luck.

'Hi there!' I say, trying to sound natural.

'Hi,' he says, his eyes shining with excitement, and walks into the lift.

'Hello,' says Jack pleasantly. 'Which floor would you like?'

'Nine, please.' Connor swallows. 'Mr Harper, may I quickly introduce myself?' He eagerly holds out his hand. 'Connor Martin from Research. You're coming to visit our department later on today.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Connor,' says Jack kindly. 'Research is vital for a company like ours.'

'You're so right!' says Connor, looking thrilled. 'In fact, I'm looking forward to discussing with you the latest research findings on Panther Sportswear. We've come up with some very fascinating results involving customer preferences on fabric thickness. You'll be amazed!'

'I'm … sure I will,' says Jack. 'I look forward to it.'

Connor gives me an excited grin.

'You've already met Emma Corrigan from our marketing department?' he says.

'Yes, we've met.' Jack's eyes gleam at me.

We travel for a few seconds in an awkward silence.

This is weird.

No. It's not weird. It's fine.

'How are we doing for time?' says Connor. He glances at his watch and in slight horror, I see Jack's eyes falling on it.

Oh God.

'… I gave him a really nice watch, but he insists on wearing this orange digital thing …'

'Wait a minute!' says Jack, dawn breaking over his face. He stares at Connor as through seeing him for the first time. 'Wait a minute. You're Ken.'

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh—

'It's Connor,' says Connor puzzledly. 'Connor Martin.'

'I'm sorry!' Jack hits his head with his fist. 'Connor. Of course. And you two —' he gestures to me '— are an item?'

Connor looks uncomfortable.

'I can assure you, sir, that at work our relationship is strictly professional. However, in a private context, Emma and I are … yes, having a personal relationship.'