Can You Keep A Secret? Part 8

'Could you get me one?' says Artemis, looking up briefly. 'So anyway, on my MBA course ...'

The coffee machine is near the entrance to the department, in its own little alcove. As I'm waiting for the noxious liquid to fill my cup, I glance up, and see Graham Hillingdon walking out of the admin department, followed by a couple of others. s.h.i.t! He's coming!

OK. Keep cool. Just wait for the second cup to fill, nice and natural ...

And there he is! With his blond hair and his expensive-looking suit, and his dark gla.s.ses. But to my slight surprise, he steps back, out of the way.

In fact, no-one's even looking at him. Everyone's attention is focused on some other guy. A guy in jeans and a black turtleneck who's walking out now.

As I stare in fascination, he turns. And as I see his face I feel an almighty thud, as though a bowling ball's landed hard in my chest.

Oh my G.o.d.

It's him.

The same dark eyes. The same lines etched around them. The stubble's gone, but it's definitely him.

It's the man from the plane.

What's he doing here?

And why is everyone's attention on him? He's speaking now, and they're lapping up every word he says.

He turns again, and I instinctively duck back out of sight, trying to keep calm. What's he doing here? He can't- That can't be- That can't possibly be- With wobbly legs, I walk back to my desk, trying not to drop the coffee on the floor.

'Hey,' I say to Artemis, my voice pitched slightly too high. 'Erm ... do you know what Jack Harper looks like?'

'No,' she says, and takes her coffee. 'Thanks.'

'Dark hair,' says someone.

'Dark?' I swallow. 'Not blond?'

'He's coming this way!' hisses someone. 'He's coming!'

With weak legs I sink into my chair and sip my coffee, not tasting it.

'... our head of marketing and promotion, Paul Fletcher,' I can hear Graham saying.

'Good to meet you, Paul,' comes the same dry, American voice.

It's him. It's definitely him.

OK, keep calm. Maybe he won't remember me. It was one short flight. He probably takes a lot of flights.

'Everyone.' Paul is leading him into the centre of the office. 'I'm delighted to introduce our founding father, the man who has influenced and inspired a generation of marketeers Jack Harper!'

A round of applause breaks out, and Jack Harper shakes his head, smiling. 'Please,' he says. 'No fuss. Just do what you would normally do.'

He starts to walk around the office, pausing now and then to talk to people. Paul is leading the way, making all the introductions, and following them silently everywhere is the blond man.

'Here he comes!' Artemis hisses, and everyone at our end of the office stiffens.

My heart starts to thump, and I shrink into my chair, trying to hide behind my computer. Maybe he won't recognize me. Maybe he won't remember. Maybe he won't- f.u.c.k. He's looking at me. I see the flash of surprise in his eyes, and he raises his eyebrows.

He recognizes me.

Please don't come over, I silently pray. Please don't come over.

'And who's this?' he says to Paul.

'This is Emma Corrigan, one of our junior marketing a.s.sistants.'

He's walking towards me. Artemis has stopped talking. Everyone's staring. I'm hot with embarra.s.sment.

'h.e.l.lo,' he says pleasantly.

'h.e.l.lo,' I manage. 'Mr Harper.'

OK, so he recognizes me. But that doesn't necessarily mean he remembers anything I said. A few random comments thrown out by a person in the next-door seat. Who's going to remember that? Maybe he wasn't even listening.

'And what do you do?'

'I, um, a.s.sist the marketing department and I help with setting up promotional initiatives,' I mumble.

'Emma was in Glasgow only last week on business,' puts in Paul, giving me a completely phoney smile. 'We believe in giving our junior staff responsibility as early as possible.'

'Very wise,' says Jack Harper, nodding. His gaze runs over my desk and alights with sudden interest on my polystyrene cup. He looks up and meets my eye. 'How's the coffee?' he asks pleasantly. 'Tasty?'

Like a tape recording in my head, I suddenly hear my own stupid voice, prattling on.

'The coffee at work is the most disgusting stuff you've ever drunk, absolute poison ...'

'It's great!' I say. 'Really ... delicious!'

'I'm very glad to hear it.' There's a spark of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes, and I feel myself redden.

He remembers. f.u.c.k. He remembers.

'And this is Artemis Harrison,' says Paul. 'One of our brightest young marketing executives.'

'Artemis,' says Jack Harper thoughtfully. He takes a few steps towards her work station. 'That's a nice big desk you've got there, Artemis.' He smiles at her. 'Is it new?'

'... this new desk arrived the other day, and she just took it ...'

He remembers everything, doesn't he? Everything.

Oh G.o.d. What the f.u.c.k else did I say?

I'm sitting perfectly still, while Artemis makes some showy-off reply, with my pleasant, good-employee expression. But my mind is frantically spooling back, trying to remember, trying to piece together what I said. I mean, G.o.d, I told this man everything about myself. Everything. I told him what sort of knickers I wear, and what flavour ice-cream I like, and how I lost my virginity, and- My blood runs cold.

I'm remembering something I should not have told him.

Something I should not have told anyone.

'... I know I shouldn't have done it, but I so wanted to get the job ...'

I told him about faking the A grade on my CV.

Well, that's it. I'm dead.

He'll fire me. I'll get a record for being dishonest and no-one will ever employ me again, and I'll end up on a 'Britain's Worst Jobs' doc.u.mentary, clearing up cow poo, saying brightly 'It's not too bad, really.'

OK. Don't panic. There must be something I can do. I'll apologize. Yes. I'll say it was an error of judgement which I now deeply regret, and I never meant to mislead the company, and- No. I'll say, 'Actually, I did get an A grade, haha, silly me I forgot!' And then I'll forge a GCSE certificate with one of those calligraphy kits. I mean, he's American. He'll never know.

No. He's bound to find out. Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d.

OK, maybe I'm over-reacting here. Let's just get things in proportion. Jack Harper is a huge important guy. Look at him! He's got limos and flunkies, and a huge great company which makes millions every year. He doesn't care if one of his employees got a poxy A grade or not. I mean, honestly!

I laugh out loud in my nerves, and Artemis gives me an odd look.

'I'd just like to say that I'm very glad to meet you all,' says Jack Harper, looking around the silent office. 'And also introduce my a.s.sistant Sven Petersen.' He gestures to the guy with blond hair. 'I'll be staying here for a few days so I hope I'll get to know a few of you better. As you're aware, Pete Laidler, who founded the Panther Corporation with me, was British. For that reason, among many others, this country has always been immensely important to me.'

A sympathetic murmur goes around the office. He lifts a hand, nods, and walks away, followed by Sven and all the executives. There's silence until he's gone, then an excited babble breaks out.

I feel my whole body sag in relief. Thank G.o.d. Thank G.o.d.

Honestly, I'm such a moron. Fancy thinking even for a moment that Jack Harper would remember what I said. Let alone care about it! Fancy thinking he would take time out of his busy, important schedule, for something as tiny and insignificant as whether I faked my CV or not! As I reach for my mouse and click on a new doc.u.ment, I'm actually smiling.

'Emma.' I look up to see Paul standing over my desk. 'Jack Harper would like to see you,' he says curtly.

'What?' My smile fades away. 'Me?'

'The meeting room in five minutes.'

'Did he say why?'

'No.'

Paul strides off, and I gaze unseeingly at my computer screen, feeling sick.

I was right first time.

I'm going to lose my job.

I'm going to lose my job because of one stupid comment on one stupid plane ride.

Why did I have to get upgraded? Why did I have to open my stupid mouth? I'm just a stupid, stupid blabbermouth.

'Why does Jack Harper want to see you?' says Artemis, sounding put out.

'I don't know,' I say.

'Is he seeing anyone else?'

'I don't know!' I say distractedly.

To stop her asking any more questions, I start typing drivel into my computer, my mind whirring round and round.

I can't lose this job. I can't ruin yet another career.

He can't fire me. He just can't. It's not fair. I didn't know who he was. I mean, obviously, if he'd told me he was my employer, I would never have mentioned my CV. Or ... any of it.

And anyway, it's not as if I faked my degree, is it? It's not as if I've got a criminal record or something. I'm a good employee. I try really hard and I don't skive off that often, and I put in all that overtime with the sportswear promotion, and I organized the Christmas raffle ...

I'm typing harder and harder, and my face is growing red with agitation.

'Emma.' Paul is looking meaningfully at his watch.

'Right.' I take a deep breath and stand up.

I'm not going to let him fire me. I'm just not going to let it happen.

I stride across the office and down the corridor to the meeting room, knock on the door and push it open.

Jack Harper is sitting on a chair at the conference table, scribbling something in a notebook. As I come in, he looks up, and the grave expression on his face makes my stomach turn over.

But I have to defend myself. I have to keep this job.

'Hi,' he says. 'Can you close the door?' He waits until I've done so, then looks up. 'Emma, we need to talk about something.'

'I'm aware that we do,' I say, trying to keep my voice steady. 'But I'd like to say my part first, if I may.'

For a moment Jack Harper looks taken aback then he raises his eyebrows.

'Sure. Go ahead.'

I walk into the room, take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye.

'Mr Harper, I know what you want to see me about. I know it was wrong. It was an error of judgement which I deeply regret. I'm extremely sorry, and it will never happen again. But in my defence ...' I can hear my voice rising in emotion. 'In my defence, I had no idea who you were on that plane ride. And I don't believe I should be penalized for what was an honest genuine mistake.'

There's a pause.

'You think I'm penalizing you?' says Jack Harper at last, with a frown.

How can he be so callous?

'Yes! You must realize I would never have mentioned my CV if I'd known who you were! It was like a ... a honeytrap! You know, if this was a court the judge would throw it out. They wouldn't even let you-'