“Now, everyone!” Paul comes striding up behind him. “Mr. Harper is going to be sitting in on the department this morning.”
“Please.” Jack Harper smiles. “Call me Jack.”
“Right you are. Jack is going to be sitting in this morning. He’s going to observe what you do, find out how we operate as a team. Just behave normally; don’t do anything special.…” Paul’s eyes alight on me and he gives me an ingratiating smile. “Hi there, Emma! How are you doing? Everything OK?”
“Er, yes, thanks, Paul,” I mutter. “Everything’s great.”
“Good! A happy staff, that’s what we like. And while I’ve got your attention”—he coughs, a little self-conscious—“let me just remind you that our corporate family day is coming up, a week on Saturday. A chance for us all to let our hair down, enjoy meeting each other’s families, and have some fun!”
A couple of people exchange looks. Until this moment, Paul has always referred to this as the corporate fuckwit day and said he’d rather have his balls torn off than bring any member of his family to it.
“Anyway, back to work, everyone! Jack, let me get you a chair.”
“Just ignore me,” says Jack Harper as he sits down. “Behave normally.”
Behave normally. Right. Of course.
So that would be sit down, take my shoes off, check my e-mails, put some hand cream on, eat a few Smarties, read my horoscope on iVillage, read Connor’s horoscope, send an e-mail to Connor, wait a few minutes to see if he replies, take a swig of mineral water, and then finally get around to finding the Tesco leaflet for Artemis.
I don’t think so.
As I sit back down at my desk, my mind is working quickly. Create your own chances. Carve out your own opportunities. That’s what Paul said.
And what is this if not an opportunity?
Jack Harper himself is sitting here, watching me work. The great Jack Harper. Boss of the entire corporation. Surely I can impress him somehow?
OK, perhaps I haven’t gotten off to the most brilliant start with him.
But maybe this is my chance to redeem myself! If I can just somehow show that I’m really bright and motivated …
As I sit, leafing through the file of promotional literature, I’m aware that I’m holding my head slightly higher than usual, as though I’m in a posture class. And as I glance around the office, everyone else seems to be in a posture class, too. Before Jack Harper arrived, Artemis was on the phone to her mum, but now she’s put on her horn-rimmed glasses and is typing briskly, occasionally pausing to smile at what she’s written in a what-an-intelligent-person-I-am way. Nick was reading the sports section of the Telegraph, but now he stands up and comes over to Fergus’s desk.
“Did you have any more thoughts on the artwork for the Panther Gum promotion?” he says, in a loud, too casual voice. “Because I really think it needs to rock. We need to get to these kids, yeah?”
“Er, yeah,” says Fergus, looking bewildered.
“So this is the giveaway.” Nick picks up a small, multicolored plastic toy. “Yeah. Well, you know, maybe we can use this in some way. Take the concept … turn it inside out, and play with it. Have some fun.”
Oh, God. He’s totally showing off. This is so embarrassing.
“You’ve got it upside down,” comes Jack Harper’s dry voice. Everyone stiffens, and Nick turns around, clearly joyful at having attracted Jack Harper’s attention.
“Absolutely! I see what you mean.” He nods a few times. “So, what, like, the concept needs to be turned upside down? Reversed, if you like—”
“Not the concept,” says Jack. “The toy.”
Nick looks blankly at the toy in his fingers.
“It sits the other way up. You pull the rip cord and it spins.” Jack gives Nick an appraising look. “You knew that, right?”
A faint color creeps up Nick’s face, clashing with his pale red hair. “Er, sure,” he says. “Of course I did! So, anyway. We’ll … we’ll brainstorm, OK?”
There’s an excruciating silence as he puts the toy back on Fergus’s desk and stiffly walks back to his own.
I want to laugh. But I’m too petrified. What if Jack Harper picks on me next?
“Emma?” says Artemis in a falsely sweet voice. “Have you found that leaflet I was asking you for? Not that there’s any hurry—”
“Er, yes, I have!” I say. I push back my chair, stand up, and walk over to her desk.
I’m trying to look as natural as possible. But God, this is like being on telly or something. My legs aren’t working properly and my smile is pasted onto my face and I have a horrible conviction I might suddenly shout “Pants!” or something.
“Here you are, Artemis!” I say, and carefully lay the leaflet on her desk.
“Bless you!” says Artemis. Her eyes meet mine, and I realize she’s completely acting, too. She puts her hand on mine and gives me a twinkly smile. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Emma!”
“That’s quite all right!” I say, matching her tone. “Anytime!”
Shit, I think as I walk back to my desk. I should have said something cleverer. I should have said something like “Teamwork is what keeps this operation together.”
OK, never mind. I can still be impressive.
Trying to act as normal as possible, I open a document and start to type as quickly and efficiently as I can, my back ramrod straight. I’ve never known the office this quiet. Everyone’s tapping away; no one’s chatting. It’s like being in an exam. My foot’s itching, but I don’t dare scratch it.
How on earth do people do those fly-on-the-wall documentaries? I feel completely exhausted, and it’s only been about five minutes.
“It’s very quiet in here,” says Jack Harper after a while. “Is it normally this quiet?”
“Er …” We all look around uncertainly at one another.
“Please, don’t mind me. Talk away like you normally would. You must have office discussions.” He gets up from his seat, spreads his arms, and begins to walk around. “When I worked in an office, we talked about everything under the sun. Politics, books … For instance, what have you all been reading recently?”
“Actually, I’ve been reading the new biography of Mao Tse-tung,” says Artemis at once. “Fascinating stuff.”
“I’m in the middle of a history of fourteenth-century Europe,” says Nick.
“I’m just rereading Proust,” says Caroline with a modest shrug. “In the original French.”
“Ah.” Jack Harper nods, his face unreadable. “And … Emma, is it? What are you reading?”
“Um, actually …” I swallow, playing for time.
I cannot say Horoscopes for Lovers. Even though it is actually very good. Quick. What’s a serious book?
“You were reading Great Expectations, weren’t you, Emma?” says Artemis. “For your book club.”
“Yes!” I say in relief. “Yes, that’s right—”
And then I stop abruptly as I meet Jack Harper’s gaze.
Fuck.
Inside my head, my own voice from the plane is babbling away innocently.
… just skimmed the back and pretended I’d read it.…
“Great Expectations,” says Jack Harper thoughtfully. “What did you think of it, Emma?”
I don’t believe he asked me that.
For a few moments I can’t speak.
“Well!” I clear my throat at last. “I thought it … it was really … extremely …”
“It’s a wonderful book,” says Artemis earnestly. “Once you fully understand the symbolism …”
Shut up, you stupid show-off. Oh, God. What am I going to say?
“I thought it really … resonated,” I say at last.
“What resonated?” says Nick puzzledly.
“The, um …” I clear my throat. “The resonances.”
“The resonances … resonated?” says Artemis.
“Yes,” I say defiantly. “They did. Anyway, I’ve got to get on with m
y work.” I turn away with a roll of my eyes and start typing feverishly.
OK. So the book discussion didn’t go that well. But that was just sheer bad luck. Think positive. I can still do this. I can still impress him—
“I just don’t know what’s wrong with it!” Artemis is saying in a girly voice. “I water it every day.…”
She pokes her spider plant. “Do you know anything about plants, Jack?”
“I don’t, I’m afraid,” says Jack, and looks over at me, his face deadpan. “What do you think could be wrong with it, Emma?”
… sometimes, when I’m pissed off with Artemis …
“I … I have no idea,” I say at last, and carry on typing, my face flaming.
Never mind. It doesn’t matter. So I watered one little plant with orange juice. It’s still alive, isn’t it?
“Has anyone seen my World Cup mug?” says Paul, walking into the office with a frown. “I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”
… I broke my boss’s mug last week and hid the pieces in my handbag …
Shit.
Never mind. So I broke one tiny mug, too. Just keep typing—
“Hey, Jack,” says Nick in a matey, lads-together voice, “just in case you don’t think we have any fun, look up there!” He nods toward the picture of a photocopied, G-stringed bottom that has been up on the notice board since Christmas. “We still don’t know who it is …”
… I had a few too many drinks at the last Christmas party …
Now I want to die. Someone, please kill me—
“Hi, Emma!” comes Katie’s voice, and I look up to see her hurrying into the office, her face pink with excitement. When she sees Jack Harper, she stops dead. “Oh!”
“It’s all right. I’m simply a fly on the wall.” He waves an easy hand at her. “Go ahead. Say whatever you were going to say.”
“Hi, Katie!” I manage. “What is it?”
As soon as I say her name, Jack Harper raises his head, looking animated.
What did I tell him about Katie? What? My mind spools furiously back. What did I say? What did I—
Suddenly I remember.
… we have this secret code where she comes in and says, “Can I go through some numbers with you, Emma?” and it really means “Shall we nip out to Starbucks …”
I told him our skiving code.
I focus desperately on Katie’s eager face, trying somehow to convey the message to her.
Do not say it. Do not say you want to go over some numbers with me.
But she’s completely oblivious.
“I just, erm …” She clears her throat in a businesslike way and glances self-consciously at Jack Harper, who has strolled over toward my desk. “Could I possibly go over some numbers with you, Emma?”
Fuck.
I can feel my face flooding with color. My whole body is prickling.
“You know,” I say in a bright, artificial voice, “I’m not sure that’ll be possible today.”
Katie looks instantly crestfallen. “But I have to … I really need you to go over some numbers with me.” She nods in consternation.
There’s obviously something on her mind. But what am I supposed to do?
“I’m quite tied up here with my work, Katie!” I force a smile, simultaneously trying to telegraph “Shut up!”
“It won’t take long! Just quickly.”
“I really don’t think so.”
Katie is practically hopping from foot to foot. “But, Emma, they’re very … important numbers. I really need to … to tell you about them …”
“Emma.” At Jack Harper’s voice I jump as though I’ve been stung. He leans toward me confidentially. “Maybe you should go over the numbers.”
For a few moments I can’t quite speak.
“Right,” I manage after a long pause. “OK. I’ll do that.”
Seven
I walk along the street with Katie, half numb with fear and half wanting to burst into hysterical laughter. Everyone else is in the office, trying as hard as they can to impress Jack Harper. And here I am, strolling off nonchalantly under his nose for a cappuccino.
“I’m sorry I interrupted you!” says Katie as we push our way through the doors of Starbucks. “With Jack Harper there and everything! I had no idea he’d be just sitting there! But you know, I was really subtle.” She adds reassuringly, “He’ll never know what we’re up to.”
“I’m sure you’re right!” I manage. “He’ll never guess in a million years!”
“Are you OK, Emma?” Katie looks at me curiously.
“I’m fine!” I say with a kind of shrill hilarity. “I’m absolutely fine! So … why the emergency summit?”
We edge our way past two mothers with pushchairs and reach the counter.
“I had to tell you. Two cappuccinos, please.” Katie beams at me excitedly. “You won’t believe it!”
“What is it?”
“I’ve got a date! I met a new guy!”
“No!” I say, staring at her. “Really? That was quick!”
“Yes! It happened yesterday, just like you said! I deliberately walked farther than usual in my lunch hour, and I found this really nice place where they were serving lunch. And there was this nice man in the line next to me—and he struck up conversation with me. Then we shared a table and chatted some more … and I was just leaving, when he said did I fancy having a drink sometime?” She takes the cappuccinos from the counter. “So we’re going out this evening!”
“That’s fantastic!” I say in delight. “So, come on, what’s he like?”
“He’s lovely! He’s got these lovely sparkly eyes, and he’s really charming and polite, and he’s got a great sense of humor.…”
“He sounds great!”
“I know! I have a really good feeling about him! He just seems different. And I know this sounds really stupid, Emma.…” She hesitates. “But I feel like you somehow brought him to me.”
“Me?”
“You gave me the confidence to speak to him.”
“But all I said was—”
“You said you knew I’d meet someone. You had faith in me. And I did!” Suddenly her eyes begin to shine. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and dabs her eyes with a napkin. “I’m just a bit overcome.”
“Oh, Katie.”
“I just really think my life is going to turn around! I think everything’s going to get better. And it’s all down to you, Emma!”
“Really, Katie,” I say awkwardly. “It was nothing—”
“It wasn’t nothing!” She gulps. “And I wanted to do something for you in return.” She rummages in her bag and pulls out a large piece of orange crochet. “So I made you this last night.” She looks at me expectantly. “It’s a head scarf!”
For a few moments, I can’t move. A crochet head scarf.
“Katie!” I manage at last, turning it over in my fingers. “Really, you … you shouldn’t have!”
“I wanted to! To say thank you.” She looks at me earnestly. “Especially after you lost that crochet belt I made for you for Christmas—”
“Oh!” I say, feeling a pang of guilt. “Er, yes. That was … such a shame.” I swallow. “It was a lovely belt. I was really upset to lose it …”
“Oh, what the hell!” Her eyes well up again. “I’ll make you a new belt, too!”
“No!” I say in alarm. “No, Katie, don’t do that!”
“But I want to!” She leans forward and gives me a hug. “That’s what friends are for!”
It’s another twenty minutes before we finish our second cappuccinos and head back for the office. As we approach the Panther building, I glance at my watch and see to my dismay that we’ve been gone thirty-five minutes in all.
“Isn’t it amazing we’re getting new coffee machines?” says Katie as we hurry up the steps.
“Er, yes. It’s great.”
My stomach tightens as I think of facing Jack Harper again. I haven’t felt so nervous since I took my grade one c
larinet exam, and when the examiner asked me what my name was, I burst into tears.
“Well, see you later,” says Katie as we reach the first floor. “And thanks, Emma.”
“No problem!” I say. “See you later.”
As I head along the corridor toward the marketing department, I’m aware that my legs aren’t moving quite as quickly as usual. In fact, as the door is nearing, they’re getting slower and slower … and slower …
I can’t go in there.
Yes, I can. It’ll be fine. I’ll just sit down very quietly and get on with my work.
Maybe he won’t even notice me.
Come on. The longer I leave it, the worse it’ll be. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, walk into the marketing department, and open them.
There’s a hubbub around Artemis’s desk, and no sign of Jack Harper.
“I mean, maybe he’s going to rethink the whole company,” someone’s saying.
“I’ve heard this rumor he’s got a secret project …”
“He can’t completely centralize the marketing function,” Artemis is saying, trying to raise her voice above everyone else’s.
“Where’s Jack Harper?” I say, trying to sound casual.
“He’s gone,” says Nick, and I feel a whoosh of relief. Gone! He’s gone!
“Is he coming back?”
“Don’t think so,” he replies. “Emma, have you done those letters for me yet? Because I gave them to you several days ago—”
“I’ll do them now,” I say, and beam at Nick. As I sit down at my desk, I feel as light as a helium balloon. I cheerfully kick off my shoes, reach for my Evian bottle—and stop.
There’s a folded piece of paper resting on my keyboard, with “Emma” written on it in a handwriting I don’t recognize.
Puzzled, I look around the office. No one’s looking at me, waiting for me to find it. In fact, no one seems to have noticed. My desk is half hidden behind the photocopier. And besides, they’re all too busy talking about Jack Harper.
Slowly I unfold it. There’s a message inside.
Hope your meeting was productive. I always find numbers give me a real buzz.
Jack Harper
It could have been worse. It could have read, “Clear your desk.”
But even so, for the rest of the day, I’m completely on edge. Every time anyone walks into the department, I feel a little spasm of panic. And when someone starts talking loudly outside our door about “Jack says he may pop back into Marketing,” I seriously consider hiding out in the loos until he’s gone.
Can You Keep a Secret? Page 9