OK, this is freaky. Since when did I start discussing my love life with Sven?
“What’s this got to do with you? What’s your role in this place, anyway?” I jut my chin out. “Who are you?”
Sven seems taken aback by the question. “I’m … someone who tries to be there for Jack,” he says.
“You’d take a bullet for him?” I say flippantly.
“I meant … emotionally.”
“Emotionally?” I echo, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. Does Mr. Titanium Briefcase know what emotions are? But to my surprise, Sven looks utterly serious.
“I’ve known Jack a long time. Pete Laidler, too.” He stops, as though that explained everything.
“Right.” I shrug.
“I’ve never known two people as close as those two guys. When Pete went, a lot of us were worried about Jack.”
Half of me wants to say, “Is there a point to all this?” The other half is getting pretty curious.
“What you should know …” Sven searches for words. “… is that Jack’s never really shared himself with any woman. With anyone. Except Pete.”
“Yeah, well.” I can feel an old hurt rising, and look away. This day was going so well until Sven came along. “That’s not my fault.”
“You may think Jack’s kept himself distant. But for the rest of us who know him … it’s been extraordinary. The way he’s been since meeting you.” Sven’s pale blue eyes bore into mine. “He changed his plans for you. These meetings he’s been having were supposed to be back in the States. People have been flying around the globe—just because of you. Are you aware of that?”
Why is he telling me all this? It’s like he’s digging around in my feelings, trying to find my weakness.
“Whatever. It’s irrelevant now.” I fold my arms defensively around my body. “Look … why are you here?”
“There aren’t many people who know the real Jack,” says Sven. “I guess I thought you should hear from someone who does.”
“Well, now I have. Thanks very much.”
I turn sharply and head toward the door. Sven’s voice follows me. “The thing is, he’s worth it.”
Slowly, I turn back. “What?”
Sven takes a few paces toward me. The afternoon sun’s shining through the blinds onto his hair. He’s actually quite nice-looking, I realize. I’m starting to see why he and Jack might be friends.
“Emma, Jack’s never going to be a heart-on-his-sleeve guy. He’s never going to open up as much as you’d like. That’s just the way he is.” Sven pauses. “As I said, he’s worth it.”
His face is so fixed and serious, I feel suddenly touched.
“Thanks for trying,” I say at last. “But … it doesn’t work like that.”
Twenty-four
For the rest of the day, I feel all upset and agitated. Not to mention totally disconcerted that Sven has turned out to be human after all. Half of me is desperate to call him back and hear more about Jack.
But I’m not going to. I’m going to be strong. Jack made his decision—and I’ve made mine. It’s like Mum said, we were only meant to be a short-term relationship. And actually, I’m pretty much over him. I only felt a tiny pang once today, when I thought I saw him in the corridor, and I recovered really quickly.
The important thing to remember is, I’ve won my promotion. My whole new life begins today. Yes. In fact, I expect I’ll meet someone new tonight at Lissy’s dancing show. Some really tall, dashing lawyer. Yes. And he’ll come and pick me up from work in his amazingly fab sports car. And I’ll trip happily down the steps, tossing my hair back, not even looking at Jack, who will be standing at his office window, glowering.…
No. I am over Jack. I have to remember this.
Maybe I’ll write it on my hand.
Lissy’s dancing show is being held in a theater in Bloomsbury set in a small, graveled courtyard, and as I arrive, the entire place is crammed with lawyers in expensive suits on their mobile phones.
“… client unwilling to accept the terms of agreement …”
“… attention to clause four, comma, notwithstanding …”
There. You see. I could go out with any one of these guys. Like … that one standing on his own, with the glasses and the shiny black hair. I could easily walk up to him, ask him who he knows in the show.… We’d start chatting.… He’s probably got a great sense of humor.
The black-haired guy looks around, as though feeling my gaze on him, and gives me a tentative smile. Without quite meaning to, I turn on my heel, and take a few steps away.
I mean, there’s no need to rush into a new relationship. The point is, I could. If I wanted to.
No one is making the slightest attempt to go into the auditorium yet, so I head backstage to give Lissy the bouquet I’ve bought for her. As I walk down the shabby corridors, music is being piped through the sound system, and people keep brushing past me in sparkly costumes. A man with blue feathers in his hair is stretching his leg against the wall and talking to someone in a dressing room at the same time. “So then I pointed out to that idiot of a prosecuting counsel that the precedent set in 1983 by Miller v. Davy means …” He suddenly stops. “Shit. I’ve forgotten my first steps.” His face drains of color. “I can’t remember a fucking thing. I’m not joking! I jeté on. Then what?” He looks at me as though expecting me to supply him with an answer.
“Er, a pirouette?” I hazard, and awkwardly hurry on, nearly tripping over a girl doing the splits. Suddenly I catch sight of Lissy sitting on a stool in one of the dressing rooms. Her face is heavily made-up, and her eyes are all huge and glittery, and she’s got blue feathers in her hair, too.
“Oh, my God, Lissy!” I say, halting in the doorway. “You look amazing! I completely love your—”
“I can’t do it.”
“What?”
“I can’t do it!” she repeats desperately, and pulls her cotton robe around her. “I can’t remember anything! My mind is blank!”
“Everyone thinks that!” I say in reassuring tones. “There was a guy outside saying exactly the same thing—”
“No. I really can’t remember anything.” Lissy’s eyes are wild. “My legs feel like cotton wool.… I can’t breathe.” She picks up a blusher brush, looks at it bleakly, then puts it down. “Why did I ever agree to do this? Why?”
“Er, because it would be fun?”
“Fun?” Her voice rises in disbelief. “You think this is fun?”
I peer at her anxiously. “Liss, are you all right?”
“I can’t do it,” she says. “I can’t.” She seems to come to a sudden decision. “OK, I’m going home.” She starts reaching for her clothes. “Tell them I was suddenly taken ill. It was an emergency.”
“You can’t go home!” I say in horror, and grab the clothes out of her hands. “You’ll be fine! I mean … think about it. How many times have you had to stand up in a big court and make some really long speech in front of loads of people, and if you get it wrong, an innocent man might go to jail?”
Lissy looks at me as though I’m crazy. “Yes, but that’s easy.”
“Well …” I cast around. “Well … if you pull out now, you’ll always regret it. You’ll always look back and wish you’d gone through with it.”
There’s silence. I can practically see Lissy’s brain working underneath all the feathers.
“You’re right,” she says at last. “You’re right. I have to do this.”
“You’ll be great!” I say just as a loudspeaker in the wall blares out, “This is your fifteen-minute call!”
“So … I’ll go, then,” I say. “Let you warm up.”
“Emma.” Lissy grabs hold of my arm and fixes me with an intense gaze. She’s holding me so tight, she’s hurting my flesh. “Emma, if I ever say I want to do anything like this again, you have to stop me. Whatever I say. Promise you’ll stop me.”
“I promise,” I say hastily. “I promise.”
Bloody hell. I have never
seen Lissy like that before in my life. Please don’t let her mess up. Please. As I walk back out into the courtyard, which is now swarming with even more well-dressed people, I’ve got a terrible case of nerves myself.
A horrible image suddenly comes to me of Lissy standing like a startled rabbit, unable to remember her steps. And the audience just aghast.
I’m not going to let that happen, I resolve. If anything goes wrong, I’ll pretend to faint. Yes. I’ll collapse on the floor, and everyone will be distracted for a few seconds, but the performance won’t stop, because we’re British, and by the time everyone turns back to the stage again, Lissy will have remembered her steps.
“Emma.”
“What?” I say absently. I look up, and catch my breath.
Jack is standing ten feet away. He’s dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a simple jersey, and he stands out a mile among all the corporate-suited lawyers.
Don’t react, I tell myself quickly. Closure. New life.
“What are you doing here?” I say. “Did Sven send you?”
“Sven?” Jack frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I … nothing.”
I’m taken aback that Sven didn’t mention our meeting. I’d kind of assumed he and Jack were in on it together.
“I called your flat earlier,” Jack says. “Lissy told me you’d be here.”
Lissy told Jack I’d be here? OK, I am having a big word with her.
“Emma, I really wanted to talk.”
So he thinks he can just pitch up and I’ll drop everything? Well, maybe I’m busy. Maybe I’ve moved on. Did he think of that?
“Emma …” He walks forward until he’s only a couple of feet away, his face frank. “What you said. It stayed with me. I should have shared more with you. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
I feel a moment of surprise, followed by wounded pride. So he wants to share with me now, does he? Well, maybe it’s too late. Maybe I’m not interested anymore.
“You don’t need to share anything with me,” I say with a distancing smile. “Your affairs are your affairs, Jack. They’re nothing to do with me. And I probably wouldn’t understand them anyway—bearing in mind they’re so complicated and I’m such a total thickie.”
I turn and start to walk away.
“I owe you an explanation, at least—” Jack’s voice follows me.
“You owe me nothing!” I say proudly. “It’s over, Jack. And we might as well both just—”
Jack grabs my arm and pulls me around to face him.
“I came here tonight for a reason, Emma,” he says without smiling. “I came to tell you what I was doing in Scotland.”
I try to hide an almighty bound of shock. “I’m … I’m not interested in what you were doing in Scotland anymore!” I wrench my arm away and start striding off as best I can through the thicket of mobile-phone-gabbing lawyers.
“Emma, I want to tell you.” He’s coming after me. “I really want to tell you.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to know!” I reply, swiveling around on the gravel with a scatter of pebbles.
We’re facing each other like a pair of duelers.
Of course I want to know.
He knows I want to know.
“Go on, then,” I say at last. “You can tell me if you like.”
In total silence, Jack leads me over to a quiet spot, away from all the crowds. And as we walk, my bravado ebbs away. I’m almost having second thoughts.
Do I really want to know his secret after all? What if he’s had some really embarrassing operation and I start laughing by mistake?
What if it’s fraud like Lissy said? What if he’s doing something dodgy and he wants me to join in? Instantaneously I decide that if he’s committed a murder, I will turn him in, promise or no promise.
What if it is another woman and he’s come to tell me he’s getting married?
Well, if it is … I’ll just act cool, like I knew all along. In fact, I’ll pretend I’ve got another lover, too. I’ll give him a wry smile and say, “You know, Jack, I never assumed we were exclusive!”
“OK.” Jack turns to face me. “Here it is.” He takes a deep breath. “I was in Scotland to visit someone.”
My heart plummets. “A woman,” I say before I can stop myself.
“No, not a woman!” His expression changes, and he stares at me. “Is that what you thought? That I was two-timing you?”
“I … didn’t know what to think.”
“Emma, I do not have another woman. I was visiting …” He hesitates. “You could call it … family.”
Family?
Oh, my God, Jemima was right. I’ve gotten involved with a mobster.
OK. Don’t panic. I can escape. I can go into the witness protection scheme. My new name can be Megan.
No, Chloe. Chloe de Souza.
“To be more precise … a child.”
A child? He has a child?
“Her name is Alice. She’s eighteen months old.”
He has a wife and a whole family that I don’t know about, and that’s his secret. I knew it. I knew it—“You … You have a child?”
“No, I don’t have a child.” Jack studies the ground for a few seconds, then looks up. “Pete had a child. He had a daughter. Alice is Pete Laidler’s child.”
“But … but …” I’m totally confused. “But … I never knew Pete Laidler had a child.”
“Nobody knows.” He gives me a long look. “That’s the whole idea.”
This is so completely and utterly not what I was expecting.
A child. Pete Laidler’s secret child.
“But … but how can nobody know about her?” I say stupidly. We’ve moved even farther away from the crowds and are sitting on a bench under a tree. “I mean, surely they’d see her—”
“Pete was a great guy.” Jack sighs. “But commitment was never his strong suit. By the time Marie—that’s Alice’s mom—found out she was pregnant, they weren’t even together anymore. Marie’s … she’s kind of proud. She wanted to keep the baby, but she wasn’t going to force Pete into anything. She was determined she could do it all on her own. And she did. Pete supported her financially—but he wasn’t interested in the child. He didn’t even tell anybody he’d become a father.”
“Even you? You didn’t know he had a child?”
“Not until after he died.” His face closes up slightly. “I loved Pete. But that I find very hard to forgive. So a few months after he died, Marie turned up with this baby.” Jack exhales sharply. “Well. You can imagine how we all felt. Shocked is an understatement. But Marie was positive she didn’t want anyone to know. She wanted to bring Alice up just like a normal kid, not as Pete Laidler’s love child. Not as the heiress to some huge fortune.”
My mind is boggling. An eighteen-month-old getting Pete Laidler’s share of the Panther Corporation. Bloody hell.
“So she gets … everything?” I say hesitantly.
“Not everything, no. But a lot. Pete’s family have been … more than generous. And that’s why Marie’s keeping her away from the public eye.” He spreads his hands. “I know we can’t shield her forever. It’ll come out sooner or later. But when they find out about her, the press will go nuts. She’ll shoot to the top of the rich lists. She won’t be normal anymore.”
As he’s speaking, my mind is filled with memories of the papers after Pete Laidler died. There were pictures of him in every single one of them.
“I’m overprotective of this child.” Jack gives a rueful smile. “I know it. Even Marie tells me I am. But … she’s precious to me.” He hesitates for a moment. “She’s all we’ve got left of Pete.”
As I look at his vulnerable face, I suddenly feel moved. This is what he and Sven have been trying so hard to shield.
“So … is that what the phone calls were about?” I say tentatively. “Is that why you had to leave the other night?”
Jack sighs. “They were both in a car accident a few days ago. It wasn
’t serious. But … we’re extra sensitive, after Pete. We just wanted to make sure they got the right treatment.”
“Right.” I give a little wince. “I can understand that.”
There’s silence for a while. My brain is trying to slot all the pieces together. Trying to work it all out. “But I don’t understand,” I say suddenly. “Why did you make me keep it a secret that you’d been in Scotland? Nobody would know, surely.”
“That was my own dumb, stupid fault,” says Jack ruefully. “I’d told some people I was going across to Paris that day, just as an extra precaution. I took an anonymous flight. I thought no one would ever know. Then I walk into the office … and there you are.”
“Your heart sank.”
“Not exactly.” He meets my eyes. “It didn’t quite know which way to go.”
I feel a sudden color coming to my cheeks and awkwardly clear my throat. “So, er,” I say, looking away. “So that’s why …”
“All I wanted was to avoid your piping up, ‘Hey, he wasn’t in Paris—he was in Scotland!’ and start some huge intrigue going.” Jack shakes his head. “You’d be amazed at the ludicrous theories people will put together when they don’t have anything better to do. You know, I’ve heard it all. I’m planning to sell the company. I’m gay. I’m in the Mafia.”
“Er, really?” I say, and smooth down a strand of hair. “Gosh. How … stupid of people!”
A couple of girls wander nearby, and we both fall silent for a while.
“Emma … I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this before,” Jack says in a low voice. “I know you were hurt. I know it felt like I was shutting you out. But … it’s just not something you share lightly.”
“No!” I say immediately. “Of course you couldn’t have. I was … stupid.”
I scuff my toe awkwardly on the gravel, feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have known it would be something important. When he said it was complicated and sensitive … he was just telling the truth.
“Only a handful of people know about this.” Jack meets my eyes gravely. “A handful of special, trusted people.”
Can You Keep a Secret? Page 30