'So do you want them or not?' says the delivery guy.

'I…' Oh God, now I'm all confused.

'Emma, if you send them back you look weak,' says Jemima firmly. 'You look like you can't

bear to have any reminder of him in the house. But if you keep them, then you're saying, "I

don't care about you!" You're standing firm! You're being strong. You're being-'

'Oh, God, OK!' I say, and grab the pen from the delivery guy. 'I'll sign for them. But could

you please tell him that this does not mean I forgive him, nor that he isn't a cynical, heartless,

despicable user and furthermore, if Jemima wasn't having a dinner party, these would be

straight in the bin.' As I finish signing I'm red-faced and breathing hard, and I stamp a full

stop so hard it tears the page. 'Can you remember all that?'

The delivery guy looks at me blankly.

'Love, I just work at the depot.'

'I know!' says Lissy suddenly. She grabs the clipboard back and prints WITHOUT PREJUDICE

clearly under my name.

'What does that mean?' I say.

'It means "I'll never forgive you, you complete bastard… but I'll keep the flowers anyway."'

'And you're still going to get even,' adds Jemima determinedly.

It's one of those amazingly bright, crisp mornings that make you feel that London really is the

best city in the world. As I'm walking from the tube station to work, my spirits can't help

rising a little.

Maybe Lissy's right. Maybe everyone at work will already have forgotten about the whole

thing. I mean, let's get a bit of proportion here. It wasn't that big a deal. It wasn't that

interesting. Surely some other piece of gossip will have come along in the meantime. Surely

everyone will be talking about… the football. Or politics or something. Exactly.

I push open the glass door to the foyer with a small spurt of optimism, and walk in, my head

held high.

'… a Barbie bedspread!' I immediately hear from across the marble. A guy from Accounts is

talking to a woman with a 'Visitor' badge, who is listening avidly.

'… shagging Jack Harper all along?' comes a voice from above me, and I look up to see a

group of girls walking up the stairs.

'It's Connor I feel sorry for,' one replies. 'That poor guy…'

'… pretended she loved jazz,' someone else is saying as they get out of the lift. 'I mean, why

on earth would you do that?'

OK. So… they haven't forgotten.

All my crisp optimism dies away, and for an instant I consider running away and spending the

rest of my life under the duvet.

But I can't do that.

For a start, I'd probably get bored after about a week.

And secondly… I have to face them. I have to do this.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I slowly make my way up the stairs and along the corridor.

Everyone I pass either blatantly stares at me, or pretends they're not looking when they are,

and at least five conversations are hastily broken off as I approach.

As I reach the door to the marketing department, I take a deep breath, then walk in, trying to

look as unconcerned as possible.

'Hi everyone,' I say, taking off my jacket and hanging it on my chair.

'Emma!' exclaims Artemis in tones of sarcastic delight.'Well I never!'

'Good morning, Emma,' says Paul, coming out of his office and giving me an appraising look.

'You OK?'

'Fine, thanks.'

'Anything you'd like to… talk about?' To my surprise he looks as if he genuinely means it.

But honestly. What does he think? That I'm going to go in there and sob on his shoulder, 'That

bastard Jack Harper used me'?

I'll only do that if I get really, really desperate.

'No,' I say, my face prickling. 'Thanks, but I'm OK.'

'Good.' He pauses, then adopts a more businesslike tone. 'Now, I'm assuming that when you

disappeared yesterday, it was because you'd decided to work from home.'

'Er… yes.' I clear my throat. 'That's right.'

'No doubt you got lots of useful tasks done?'

'Er… yes. Loads.'

'Excellent. Just what I thought. All right, then, carry on. And the rest of you.' Paul looks

around the office warningly. 'Remember what I said.'

'Of course,' says Artemis at once. 'We all remember!'

Paul disappears into his office again, and I stare rigidly at my computer as it warms up. It'll be

fine, I tell myself. I'll just concentrate on my work, completely immerse myself…

Suddenly I become aware that someone's humming a tune, quite loudly. It's something I

recognize. It's…

It's the Carpenters.

And now a few others around the room are joining in on the chorus.

'Close to yoooou…'

'All right, Emma?' says Nick, as my head jerks up suspiciously. 'D'you want a hanky?'

'Close to yoooou…' everybody trills in unison again, and I hear muffled laughter.

I'm not going to react. I'm not going to give them the pleasure.

As calmly as possible I click onto my emails, and give a small gasp of shock. I normally get

about ten emails every morning, if that. Today I have ninety-five.

Dad: I'd really like to talk…

Carol: I've already got two more people for our Barbie Club!

Moira: I know where you can get really comfy G-strings…

Sharon: So how long has this been going on?!!

Fiona: Re: the body awareness workshop…

I scroll down the endless list and suddenly feel a stabbing in my heart.

There are three from Jack.

What should I do?

Should I read them?

My hand hovers uncertainly over my mouse. Does he deserve at least a chance to explain?

'Oh Emma,' says Artemis innocently, coming over to my desk with a carrier bag. 'I've got this

jumper I wondered if you'd like. It's a bit too small for me, but it's very nice. And it should fit

you, because -' she pauses, and catches Caroline's eye — 'it's a size eight.'

Immediately both of them erupt into hysterical giggles.

'Thanks, Artemis,' I say shortly. 'That's really sweet of you.'

'I'm off for a coffee,' says Fergus, standing up. 'Anybody want anything?'

'Make mine a Harvey's Bristol Cream,' says Nick brightly.

'Ha ha,' I mutter under my breath.

'Oh Emma, I meant to say,' Nick adds, sauntering over to my desk. 'That new secretary in

Admin. Have you seen her? She's quite something, isn't she?'

He winks at me and I stare at him blankly for a moment, not understanding.

'Nice spiky haircut,' he adds. 'Nice dungarees.'

'Shut up!' I cry furiously, my face flaming red. 'I'm not a… I'm not… Just fuck off, all of

you!'

My hand trembling with anger, I swiftly delete each and every one of Jack's emails. He

doesn't deserve anything. No chance. Nothing.

I rise to my feet and stride out of the room, breathing hard. I head for the ladies' room, slam

the door behind me, and rest my hot forehead on the mirror. Hatred for Jack Harper is

bubbling through me like lava. Does he have any idea what I'm going through? Does he have

any idea what he's done to me?

'Emma!' A voice interrupts my thoughts and I give a start. Immediately I feel a jolt of

apprehension.

Katie has come into the Ladies without me hearing. She's standing right behind me, holding

her makeup bag. Her face is reflected in the mirror next to mine… and she isn't smiling. It's

just like Fatal Attraction.

'So,' she says in a strange voice. 'You don't like crochet.'

Oh God. Oh God. What have I done? I've unleashed the bunny-boiler side of Katie that noone's

ever seen before. Maybe she'll impale me with a crochet needle, I find myself thinking

wildly.

'Katie,' I say, my heart thumping hard. 'Katie, please listen. I never meant… I never said…'

'Emma, don't even try.' She lifts her hand. 'There's no point. We both know the truth.'

'He was wrong!' I say quickly. 'He got confused! I meant I don't like… um… creches. You

know, all those babies everywhere-'

'You know, I was pretty upset yesterday,' Katie cuts me off with an eerie smile. 'But after

work I went straight home, and I called my mum. And do you know what she said to me?'

'What?' I say apprehensively.

'She said… she doesn't like crochet either.'

'What?' I wheel round and gape at her.

'And neither does my granny.' Her face flushes, and now she looks like the old Katie again.

'Or any of my relatives. They've all been pretending for years, just like you. It all makes sense

now!' Her voice rises in agitation. 'You know, I made my granny a whole sofa cover last

Christmas, and she told me that burglars had stolen it. But I mean, what kind of burglars steal

a crochet sofa cover?'

'Katie, I don't know what to say…'

'Emma, why couldn't you have told me before? All that time. Making stupid presents that

people didn't want.'

'Oh God, Katie, I'm sorry!' I say, filled with remorse. 'I'm so sorry. I just… didn't want to hurt

you.'

'I know you were trying to be kind. But I feel really stupid now.'

'Yes, well. That makes two of us,' I say, a little morosely.

The door opens, and Wendy from Accounts comes in. There's a pause as she stares at us both,

opens her mouth, closes it again, then disappears into one of the cubicles.

'So, are you OK?' says Katie in a lower voice.

'I'm fine,' I say with a tiny shrug. 'You know…'

Yeah. I'm so fine, I'm hiding in the loos rather than face my colleagues.

'Have you spoken to Jack?' she says tentatively.

'No. He sent me some stupid flowers. Like, Oh, that's OK, then. He probably didn't even order

them himself, he probably got Sven to do it.'

There's the sound of flushing, and Wendy comes out of the cubicle again.

'Well… this is the mascara I was talking about,' Katie says quickly, handing me a tube.

'Thanks,' I say. 'You say it… um… volumizes and lengthens?'

Wendy rolls her eyes.

'It's OK,' she says. 'I'm not listening!' She washes her hands, dries them, then gives me an avid

look. 'So Emma, are you going out with Jack Harper?'

'No,' I say curtly. 'He used me and he betrayed me, and to be honest, I'd be happy if I never

saw him again in my whole life.'

'Oh right!' she says brightly. 'It's just, I was wondering. If you're speaking to him again, could

you just mention that I'd really like to move to the PR department?'

'What?' I stare at her blankly.

'If you could just casually drop it in. That I have good communication skills and I think I'd be

really suited to PR.'

Casually drop it in? What, like, 'I never want to see you again, Jack, and by the way, Wendy

thinks she'd be good at PR'?

'I'm not sure,' I say at last. 'I just… don't think it's something I could do.'

'Well, I think that's really selfish of you, Emma,' says Wendy, looking offended. 'All I'm

asking you is, if the subject comes up, to mention that I'd like to move to PR. Just mention it. I

mean, how hard is that?'

'Wendy, piss off!' says Katie. 'Leave Emma alone.'

'I was only asking!' says Wendy. 'I suppose you think you're above us now, do you?'

'No!' I exclaim in shock. 'It's not that-' But Wendy's already flounced out.

'Great,' I say, a sudden wobble to my voice. 'Just great! Now everyone's going to hate me, as

well as everything else.'

I exhale sharply and stare at my reflection. I still can't quite believe how everything has turned

upside down, just like that. Everything I believed in has turned out to be false. My perfect

man is a cynical user. My dreamy romance was all a fabrication. I was happier than I'd ever

been in my life. And now I'm just a stupid, humiliated laughing stock.

Oh God. My eyes are pricking again.

'Are you OK, Emma?' says Katie, gazing at me in dismay. 'Here, have a tissue.' She

rummages in her makeup bag. 'And some eye gel.'

'Thanks,' I say, swallowing hard. I dab the eye gel on my eyes and force myself to breathe

deeply until I'm completely calm again.

'I think you're really brave,' says Katie, watching me. 'In fact, I'm amazed you even came in

today. I would have been far too embarrassed.'

'Katie,' I say, turning to face her. 'Yesterday I had all my most personal, private secrets

broadcast on TV.' I spread my arms widely. 'How could anything possibly be more

embarrassing than that?'

'Here she is!' comes a ringing voice behind us, and Caroline bursts into the Ladies. 'Emma,

your parents are here to see you!'

No. I do not believe this. I do not believe this.

My parents are standing by my desk. Dad's wearing a smart grey suit, and Mum's all dressed

up in a white jacket and navy skirt, and they're kind of holding a bunch of flowers between

them. And the entire office is staring at them, as though they're some kind of rare creature.

Scratch that. The entire office has now turned their heads in order to stare at me.

'Hi, Mum,' I say in a voice that has suddenly gone rather husky. 'Hi, Dad.'

What are they doing here?

'Emma!' says Dad, making an attempt at his normal jovial voice. 'We just thought we'd… pop

in to see you.'

'Right,' I say, nodding dazedly. As though this is a perfectly normal course of events.

'We brought you a little present,' says Mum brightly. 'Some flowers for your desk.' She puts

the bouquet down awkwardly. 'Look at Emma's desk, Brian. Isn't it smart! Look at the… the

computer!'

'Splendid!' says Dad, giving it a little pat. 'Very… very fine desk indeed.'

'And are these your friends?' says Mum, smiling around the office.

'Kind of,' I say, scowling as Artemis beams back winsomely at her.

'We were just saying, the other day,' continues Mum, 'how proud you should be of yourself,

Emma. Working for a big company like this. I'm sure many girls would be very envious of

your career. Don't you agree, Brian?'

'Absolutely!' says Dad. 'You've done very well for yourself, Emma.'

I'm so taken aback, I can't even open my mouth. I meet Dad's eye, and he gives a strange,

awkward little smile. And Mum's hands are trembling slightly as she puts the flowers down.

They're nervous, I realize with a jolt of shock. They're both nervous.

I'm just trying to get my head round this as Paul appears at the door of his office.

'So Emma,' he says, raising his eyebrows. 'You have visitors, I gather?'

'Er… yes,' I say. 'Paul, these are… um… my parents, Brian and Rachel…'

'Enchanted,' says Paul politely.

'We don't want to be any bother,' says Mum hurriedly.

'No bother at all,' says Paul, and bestows a charming smile on her. 'Unfortunately, the room

we usually use for family bonding sessions is being redecorated.'

'Oh!' says Mum, unsure as to whether he's being serious or not. 'Oh dear!'

'So perhaps, Emma, you'd like to take your parents out for — shall we call it an early lunch?'

I look up at the clock. It's a quarter to ten.

'Thanks, Paul,' I say gratefully.

This is surreal. It's completely surreal.

It's the middle of the morning. I should be at work. And instead I'm walking down the street

with my parents, wondering what on earth we're going to say to each other. I can't even

remember the last time it was just my parents and me. Just the three of us, no Grandpa, no

Kerry, no Nev. It's as if we've gone back in time fifteen years, or something.

'We could go in here,' I say, as we reach an Italian coffee shop.

'Good idea!' says Dad heartily, and pushes the door open. 'We saw your friend Jack Harper on

television yesterday,' he adds casually.

'He's not my friend,' I reply shortly, and he and Mum glance at each other.

We sit down at a wooden table and a waiter brings us each a menu, and there's silence.

Oh God. Now I'm feeling nervous.

'So…' I begin, then stop. What I want to say is, Why are you here? But it might sound a bit

rude. 'What… brings you to London?' I say, instead.

'We just thought we'd like to visit you,' says Mum, looking through her reading glasses at the

menu. 'Now, shall I have a cup of tea… or what's this? A frap-pelatte?'

'I want a normal cup of coffee,' says Dad, peering at the menu with a frown. 'Do they do such

a thing?'

'If they don't, you'll have to have a cappuccino and spoon off the froth,' says Mum. 'Or an

espresso and just ask them to add hot water.'

I don't believe this. They have driven two hundred miles. Are we just going to sit here and

talk about hot beverages all day?

'Oh, and that reminds me,' adds Mum casually. 'We've bought you a little something, Emma.

Haven't we, Brian?'

'Oh… right,' I say in surprise. 'What is it?'

'It's a car,' says Mum, and looks up at the waiter who's appeared at our table. 'Hello! I would

like a cappuccino, my husband would like a filter coffee if that's possible, and Emma would

like-'

'A car?' I echo in disbelief.

'Car,' echoes the Italian waiter, and gives me a suspicious look. 'You want coffee?'

'I'd… I'd like a cappuccino, please,' I say distractedly.

'And a selection of cakes,' adds Mum. 'Grazie!'

'Mum…' I put a hand to my head as the waiter disappears. 'What do you mean, you've bought

me a car?'

'Just a little run-around. You ought to have a car. It's not safe, you travelling on all these buses.

Grandpa's quite right.'

'But… but I can't afford a car,' I say stupidly. 'I can't even… what about the money I owe

you? What about-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad. 'We're going to wipe the slate clean.'

'What?' I stare at him, more bewildered than ever. 'But we can't do that! I still owe you-'

'Forget the money,' says Dad, a sudden edge to his voice. 'I want you to forget all about it,

Emma. You don't owe us anything. Nothing at all.'

I honestly cannot take all this in. I look confusedly from Dad to Mum. Then back to Dad.

Then, very slowly, back to Mum again.

And it's really strange. But it almost feels as though we're seeing each other properly for the

first time in years. As though we're seeing each other and saying hello and kind of… starting

again.

'We were wondering what you thought about taking a little holiday next year,' says Mum.

'With us.'

'Just… us?' I say, looking around the table.

'Just the three of us, we thought.' She gives me a tentative smile. 'It might be fun! You don't

have to, of course, if you've got other plans.'

'No! I'd like to!' I say quickly. 'I really would. But… but what about…'

I can't even bring myself to say Kerry's name.

There's a tiny silence, during which Mum and Dad look at each other, and then away again.

'Kerry sends her love, of course!' says Mum brightly, as though she's changing the subject

completely. She clears her throat. 'You know, she thought she might visit Hong Kong next

year. Visit her father. She hasn't seen him for at least five years, and maybe it's time they…

had some time together.'

'Right,' I say dazedly. 'Good idea.'

I can't believe this. Everything's changed. It's as if the entire family has been thrown up in the

air and has fallen down in different positions, and nothing's like it was before.

'We feel, Emma,' says Dad, and stops. 'We feel… that perhaps we haven't been… that

perhaps we haven't always noticed…' He breaks off and rubs his nose vigorously.

'Cappu-ccino,' says the waiter, planting a cup in front of me. 'Filter co—ffee, cappu-ccino…

coffee cake … lemon cake … chocolate-'

'Thank you!' interrupts Mum. 'Thank you so much. I think we can manage from here.' The

waiter disappears again, and she looks at me. 'Emma, what we want to say is… we're very

proud of you.'

Oh God. Oh God, I think I'm going to cry.

'Right,' I manage.

'And we…' Dad begins. 'That is to say, we both — your mother and I -' He clears his throat.

'We've always… and always will… both of us…'

He pauses, breathing rather hard. I don't quite dare say anything.

'What I'm trying to say, Emma,' he starts again. 'As I'm sure you… as I'm sure we all…

which is to say…'

He stops again, and wipes his perspiring face with a napkin.

'The fact of the matter is that… is that…'

'Oh, just tell your daughter you love her, Brian, for once in your bloody life!' cries Mum.

'I… I… love you, Emma!' says Dad in a choked-up voice. 'Oh Jesus.' He brushes roughly at

his eye.

'I love you too, Dad,' I say, my throat tight. 'And you, Mum.'

'You see!' says Mum, dabbing at her eye. 'I knew it wasn't a mistake to come!' She clutches

hold of my hand, and I clutch hold of Dad's hand, and for a moment we're in a kind of

awkward group hug.

'You know… we're all sacred links in the eternal circle of life,' I say with a sudden swell of

emotion.

'What?' Both my parents look at me blankly.

'Er, never mind. Doesn't matter.' I release my hand, take a sip of cappuccino, and look up.

And my heart nearly stops.

Jack is standing at the door of the coffee shop.