Can You Keep a Secret?
Page 68
'Don't tell me they can't give you half an hour off,' says Dad.
'Emma's the linchpin of the whole organization!' says Kerry with a sarky giggle. 'Can't you tell?'
'Emma!' Cyril is approaching the picnic rug. 'Your family came after all! And in costume. Jolly good!' He beams around, his joker's hat tinkling in the breeze. 'Now make sure you all buy a raffle ticket …'
'Oh, we will,' says Mum. 'And we were wondering …' She smiles at him. 'Could Emma possibly have some time off her duties to have a picnic with us?'
'Absolutely!' says Cyril. 'You've done your stint on the Pimm's stall, haven't you, Emma? You can relax now.'
'Lovely!' says Mum. 'Isn't that good news, Emma?'
'That's great!' I manage at last with a fixed smile.
I have no choice. I have no way out of this. With stiff knees I sink down onto the rug and accept a glass of wine.
'So, is Connor here?' asks Mum, decanting chicken drumsticks onto a plate.
'Ssh! Don't Mention Connor!' says Dad in his Basil Fawlty voice.
'I thought you were supposed to be moving in with him,' says Kerry, taking a swig of champagne. 'What happened there?'
'She made him breakfast,' quips Nev, and Kerry giggles.
I try to smile, but my face won't quite do it. It's ten past one. Jack will be waiting. What can I do?
As Dad passes me a plate, I see Sven passing by.
'Sven,' I say quickly. 'Um, Mr Harper was kindly asking earlier on about my family. And whether they were here or not. Could you possibly tell him that they've … they've unexpectedly turned up?' I look up at him desperately and his face flickers in comprehension.
'I'll pass on the message,' he says.
And that's the end of that.
SEVENTEEN
I once read an article called 'Make Things Go Your Way' which said if a day doesn't turn out as you intended, you should go back, charting the differences between your Goals and your Results, and this will help you learn from your mistakes.
OK. Let's just chart exactly how much this day has diverged from the original plan I had this morning.
Goal: Look like sexy and sophisticated woman in beautiful, flattering dress.
Result: Look like Heidi/Munchkin extra in lurid puffy nylon sleeves.
Goal: Make secret assignation with Jack.
Result: Make secret assignation with Jack then fail to turn up.
Goal: Have fantastic sex with Jack in romantic location.
Result: Have peanut-barbecued chicken drumstick on picnic rug.
Overall Goal: Euphoria.
Overall Result: Complete misery.
All I can do is stare dumbly down at my plate, telling myself this can't last for ever. Dad and Nev have made about a million jokes about Don't Mention Connor. Kerry has shown me her new Swiss watch which cost £4,000 and boasted about how her company is expanding yet again. And now she's telling us how she played golf with the chief executive of British Airways last week and he tried to head-hunt her.
'They all try it on,' she says, taking a huge bite of chicken drumstick. 'But I say to them, if I needed a job …' She tails off. 'Did you want something?'
'Hi there,' comes a dry, familiar voice from above my head.
Very slowly I raise my head, blinking in the light.
It's Jack. Standing there against the blue sky in his cowboy outfit. He gives me a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, and I feel my heart lift. He's come to get me. I should have known he would.
'Hi!' I say, half-dazedly. 'Everyone, this is—'
'My name's Jack,' he cuts across me pleasantly. 'I'm a friend of Emma's. Emma …' He looks at me, his face deliberately blank. 'I'm afraid you're needed.'
'Oh dear!' I say with a whoosh of relief. 'Oh well, never mind, these things happen.'
'That's a shame!' says Mum. 'Can't you at least stay for a quick drink? Jack, you're welcome to join us, have a chicken drumstick or some quiche.'
'We have to go,' I say hurriedly. 'Don't we, Jack?'
'I'm afraid we do,' he says, and holds out a hand to pull me up.
'Sorry, everyone,' I say.
'We don't mind!' says Kerry with the same sarky laugh. 'I'm sure you've some vital job to do, Emma. In fact, I expect the whole event would collapse without you!'
Jack stops. Very slowly, he turns round.
'Let me guess,' he says pleasantly. 'You must be Kerry.'
'Yes!' she says in surprise. 'That's right.'
'And Mum … Dad …' He surveys the faces. 'And you have to be … Nev?'
'Spot on!' says Nev with a chortle.
'Very good!' says Mum with a laugh. 'Emma must have told you a bit about us.'
'Oh … she has,' agrees Jack, looking around the picnic rug again with a kind of odd fascination on his face. 'You know, there might be time for that drink after all.'
What? What did he say?
'Good,' says Mum. 'It's always nice to meet friends of Emma's!'
I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.
'Emma's the linchpin of the whole organization!' says Kerry with a sarky giggle. 'Can't you tell?'
'Emma!' Cyril is approaching the picnic rug. 'Your family came after all! And in costume. Jolly good!' He beams around, his joker's hat tinkling in the breeze. 'Now make sure you all buy a raffle ticket …'
'Oh, we will,' says Mum. 'And we were wondering …' She smiles at him. 'Could Emma possibly have some time off her duties to have a picnic with us?'
'Absolutely!' says Cyril. 'You've done your stint on the Pimm's stall, haven't you, Emma? You can relax now.'
'Lovely!' says Mum. 'Isn't that good news, Emma?'
'That's great!' I manage at last with a fixed smile.
I have no choice. I have no way out of this. With stiff knees I sink down onto the rug and accept a glass of wine.
'So, is Connor here?' asks Mum, decanting chicken drumsticks onto a plate.
'Ssh! Don't Mention Connor!' says Dad in his Basil Fawlty voice.
'I thought you were supposed to be moving in with him,' says Kerry, taking a swig of champagne. 'What happened there?'
'She made him breakfast,' quips Nev, and Kerry giggles.
I try to smile, but my face won't quite do it. It's ten past one. Jack will be waiting. What can I do?
As Dad passes me a plate, I see Sven passing by.
'Sven,' I say quickly. 'Um, Mr Harper was kindly asking earlier on about my family. And whether they were here or not. Could you possibly tell him that they've … they've unexpectedly turned up?' I look up at him desperately and his face flickers in comprehension.
'I'll pass on the message,' he says.
And that's the end of that.
SEVENTEEN
I once read an article called 'Make Things Go Your Way' which said if a day doesn't turn out as you intended, you should go back, charting the differences between your Goals and your Results, and this will help you learn from your mistakes.
OK. Let's just chart exactly how much this day has diverged from the original plan I had this morning.
Goal: Look like sexy and sophisticated woman in beautiful, flattering dress.
Result: Look like Heidi/Munchkin extra in lurid puffy nylon sleeves.
Goal: Make secret assignation with Jack.
Result: Make secret assignation with Jack then fail to turn up.
Goal: Have fantastic sex with Jack in romantic location.
Result: Have peanut-barbecued chicken drumstick on picnic rug.
Overall Goal: Euphoria.
Overall Result: Complete misery.
All I can do is stare dumbly down at my plate, telling myself this can't last for ever. Dad and Nev have made about a million jokes about Don't Mention Connor. Kerry has shown me her new Swiss watch which cost £4,000 and boasted about how her company is expanding yet again. And now she's telling us how she played golf with the chief executive of British Airways last week and he tried to head-hunt her.
'They all try it on,' she says, taking a huge bite of chicken drumstick. 'But I say to them, if I needed a job …' She tails off. 'Did you want something?'
'Hi there,' comes a dry, familiar voice from above my head.
Very slowly I raise my head, blinking in the light.
It's Jack. Standing there against the blue sky in his cowboy outfit. He gives me a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, and I feel my heart lift. He's come to get me. I should have known he would.
'Hi!' I say, half-dazedly. 'Everyone, this is—'
'My name's Jack,' he cuts across me pleasantly. 'I'm a friend of Emma's. Emma …' He looks at me, his face deliberately blank. 'I'm afraid you're needed.'
'Oh dear!' I say with a whoosh of relief. 'Oh well, never mind, these things happen.'
'That's a shame!' says Mum. 'Can't you at least stay for a quick drink? Jack, you're welcome to join us, have a chicken drumstick or some quiche.'
'We have to go,' I say hurriedly. 'Don't we, Jack?'
'I'm afraid we do,' he says, and holds out a hand to pull me up.
'Sorry, everyone,' I say.
'We don't mind!' says Kerry with the same sarky laugh. 'I'm sure you've some vital job to do, Emma. In fact, I expect the whole event would collapse without you!'
Jack stops. Very slowly, he turns round.
'Let me guess,' he says pleasantly. 'You must be Kerry.'
'Yes!' she says in surprise. 'That's right.'
'And Mum … Dad …' He surveys the faces. 'And you have to be … Nev?'
'Spot on!' says Nev with a chortle.
'Very good!' says Mum with a laugh. 'Emma must have told you a bit about us.'
'Oh … she has,' agrees Jack, looking around the picnic rug again with a kind of odd fascination on his face. 'You know, there might be time for that drink after all.'
What? What did he say?
'Good,' says Mum. 'It's always nice to meet friends of Emma's!'
I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.
