I dial it again. Messages again.

I want to scream with frustration. Where is she? What's she doing? How can I contain her if I

don't know where she is?

I stand perfectly still, trying to ignore my thrusting panic, trying to work out what to do.

OK. I'll just have to go to the party and act normally, keep trying her on the phone and if all

else fails, wait until I see her later. There's nothing else I can do. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

The party is huge and bright and noisy. All the dancers are there, still in costume, and all the

audience, and a fair number of people who seem to have come along just for the ride. Waiters

are carrying drinks around and the noise of chatter is tremendous. As I walk in, I can't see

anyone I know. I take a glass of wine and start edging into the crowd, overhearing

conversations all around.

'… wonderful costumes…'

'… find time for rehearsals?'

'… judge was totally intransigent…'

Suddenly I spot Lissy, looking flushed and shiny and surrounded by a load of good-looking

lawyer-type guys, one of whom is blatantly staring at her legs.

'Lissy!' I cry. She turns around and I give her a huge hug. 'I had no idea you could dance like

that! You were amazing!'

'Oh no. I wasn't,' she says at once, and pulls a typical Lissy-face. 'I completely messed up-'

'Stop!' I interrupt. 'Lissy, it was utterly fantastic. You were fantastic.'

'But I was completely crap in the-'

'Don't say you were crap!' I practically yell. 'You were fantastic. Say it. Say it, Lissy.'

'Well… OK.' Her face reluctantly creases into a smile. 'OK. I was… fantastic!' She gives an

elated laugh. 'Emma, I've never felt so good in my life! And guess what, we're already

planning to go on tour next year.'

'But…' I stare at her. 'You said you never wanted to do this again, ever, and if you mentioned

it again, I had to stop you.'

'Oh, that was just stage fright,' she says with an airy wave of her hand. Then she lowers her

voice. 'I saw Jack, by the way.' She gives me an avid look. 'What's going on?'

My heart gives a huge thump. Should I tell her about Jemima?

No. She'll only get all hassled. And anyway, there's nothing either of us can do right now.

'Jack came here to talk to me.' I hesitate. 'To… tell me his secret.'

'You're joking!' breathes Lissy, hand to her mouth. 'So — what is it?'

'I can't tell you.'

'You can't tell me?' Lissy stares at me in incredulity. 'After all that, you're not even going to

tell me?'

'Lissy, I really can't.' I pull an agonized face. 'It's… complicated.'

God, I sound just like Jack.

'Well, all right,' says Lissy a bit grumpily. 'I suppose I can live without knowing. So… are

you two together again?'

'I dunno,' I say, flushing. 'Maybe.'

'Lissy! That was fabulous!' A couple of girls in suits appear at her side. I give her a smile and

move away slightly as she greets them.

Jack is nowhere to be seen. Should I try Jemima again?

Surreptitiously I start getting out my phone, then hastily put it away again as I hear a voice

behind me calling 'Emma!'

I look round, and give a huge start of surprise. Connor's standing there in a suit, holding a

glass of wine, his hair all shiny and blond under the spotlights. He has a new tie on, I notice

instantly. Big yellow polka dots on blue. I don't like it.

'Connor! What are you doing here?' I say in astonishment.

'Lissy sent me a flyer,' he replies, a little defensively. 'I've always been fond of Lissy. I

thought I'd come along. And I'm glad I've run into you,' he adds awkwardly. 'I'd like to talk to

you, if I may.'

He draws me towards the door, away from the main crowd, and I follow, a tad nervously. I

haven't had a proper chat with Connor since Jack was on television. Which could possibly be

because every time I've glimpsed him, I've quickly hurried the other way.

'Yes?' I say, turning to face him. 'What did you want to talk about?'

'Emma.' Connor clears his throat as though he's about to start a formal speech. 'I get the

feeling that you weren't always… totally honest with me in our relationship.'

This could be the understatement of the year.

'You're right,' I admit, shamefacedly. 'Oh God, Connor, I'm really, really sorry about

everything that happened-' He lifts a hand with a look of dignity.

'It doesn't matter. That's water under the bridge. But I'd be grateful if you were totally honest

with me now.'

'Absolutely,' I say, nodding earnestly. 'Of course.'

'I've recently… started a new relationship,' he says, a little stiffly.

'Wow!' I say in surprise. 'Good for you! Connor, I'm really pleased. What's her name?'

'Her name's Francesca.'

'And where did you-'

'I wanted to ask you about sex,' Connor says, cutting me off in a rush of embarrassment.

'Oh! Right.' I feel a twinge of dismay, which I conceal by taking a sip of wine. 'Of course!'

'Were you honest with me in that… area?'

'Er… what do you mean?' I say lightly, playing for time.

'Were you honest with me in bed?' His face is growing pillar-box red. 'Or were you faking it?'

Oh no. Is that what he thinks?

'Connor, I never ever faked an orgasm with you,' I say, lowering my voice. 'Hand on heart. I

never did.'

'Well… OK.' He rubs his nose awkwardly. 'But did you fake anything else?'

I look at him uncertainly. 'I'm not sure I know what you-'

'Were there any -' he clears his throat

'— any particular techniques I used which you only pretended to enjoy?'.

Oh God. Please don't ask me that question.

'You know, I really… can't remember!' I hedge. 'Actually, I ought to be going…'

'Emma, tell me!' he says, with sudden passion. 'I'm starting a new relationship. It's only fair

that I should be able to… to learn from past mistakes.'

I gaze back at his shiny face and suddenly feel a huge pang of guilt. He's right. I should be

honest. I should finally be honest with him.

'OK,' I say at last, and move closer to him. 'You remember that one thing you used to do with

your tongue?' I lower my voice still further. 'That… slidey thing? Well, sometimes that kind

of made me want to… laugh. So if I had one tip with your new girlfriend, it would be don't

do…'

I tail off at his expression.

Fuck. He's already done.it.

'Francesca said…' Connor says in a voice as stiff as a board. 'Francesca told me that really

turned her on.'

'Well, I'm sure it did!' I backtrack madly. 'Women are all different. Our bodies are all different

… everybody likes… different things.'

Connor is staring me in consternation.

'She said she loved jazz, too.'

'Well, I expect she does! Loads of people do like jazz.'

'She said she loved the way I could quote Woody Allen line for line.' He rubs his flushed face.

'Was she lying?'

'No, I'm sure she wasn't…' I tail off helplessly.

'Emma…' He stares at me bewilderedly. 'Do all women have secrets?'

Oh no. Have I ruined Connor's trust in all of womankind for ever?

'No!' I exclaim. 'Of course they don't! Honestly, Connor, I'm sure it's only me.'

My words wither on my lips as I glimpse a flash of familiar-looking blond hair at the entrance

to the hall. My heart stops.

That can't be-

That's not-

'Connor, I have to go,' I say, and start hurrying towards the entrance.

'She told me she's size ten!' Connor calls helplessly after me. 'What does that mean? What size

should I really buy?'

'Twelve!' I shoot back over my shoulder.

It is. It's Jemima. Standing in the foyer. What's she doing here?

The door opens again and I experience such a shock, I feel faint. She's got a guy with her. In

jeans, with cropped hair and squirrelly eyes. He's got a camera slung over his shoulder and is

looking around interestedly.

No.

She can't have done.

'Emma,' comes a voice in my ear.

'Jack!' I wheel round, to see him smiling down at me, his dark eyes full of affection.

'You OK?' he says, and gently touches my nose.

'Fine!' I say a little shrilly. 'I'm great!'

I have to manage this situation. I have to.

'Jack — could you get me some water?' I hear myself saying. 'I'll just stay here. I'm feeling a

bit dizzy.' Jack looks alarmed.

'You know, I thought there was something wrong. Let me take you home. I'll call the car.'

'No. It's… it's fine. I want to stay. Just get me some water. Please,' I add as an afterthought.

As soon as he's gone I tear into the foyer, almost tripping up in my haste.

'Emma!' Jemima looks up brightly. 'Excellent! I was just about to look for you. Now, this is

Mick, and he wants to ask you some questions. We thought we'd use this little room here.' She

heads into a small, empty office which leads off from the foyer.

'No!' I say, grabbing her arm. 'Jemima, you have to go. Now. Go!'

'I'm not going anywhere!' Jemima jerks her arm out of my grasp and rolls her eyes at Mick,

who's closing the door of the office behind me. 'I told you she was being all hissy about it.'

'Mick Collins,' Mick thrusts a business card into my hand. 'Delighted to meet you, Emma.

Now, there's no need to get worried, is there?' He gives me a soothing smile, as though he's

completely used to dealing with hysterical women telling him to go. Which he probably is.

'Let's just sit down quietly, have a nice chat…'

He's chewing gum as he speaks, and as I smell the spearmint wafting towards me, I almost

want to throw up.

'Look, there's been a misunderstanding,' I say, forcing myself to sound polite. 'I'm afraid

there's no story.'

'Well, let's see about that, shall we?' says Mick with a friendly smile. 'You tell me the facts…'

'No! I mean, there's nothing.' I turn to Jemima. 'I told you I didn't want you to do anything.

You promised me!'

'Emma, you are such a wimp.' She gives Mick an exasperated look. 'Do you see why I've been

forced to take action? I told you what a bastard Jack Harper was to her. He needs to learn his

lesson.'

'Absolutely right,' agrees Mick and puts his head on one side as though measuring me up.

'Very attractive,' he says to Jemima. 'You know, we could think about an accompanying

interview feature. My romp with top boss. You could make some serious money,' he adds to

me.

'No!' I say in horror.

'Emma, stop being so coy!' snaps Jemima. 'You want to do it really. This could be a whole

new career for you, you realize.'

'I don't want a new career!'

'Well then you should! Do you know how much Monica Lewinsky makes a year?'

'You're sick,' I say in disbelief. 'You're a totally sick, warped-'

'Emma, I'm just acting in your best interests.'

'You're not!' I cry, feeling my face flame red. 'I… I might be getting back together with Jack!'

There's a thirty-second silence. I stare at her, holding my breath. Then it's as if the killer robot

jerks into action again, shooting yet more rays.

'Even more reason to do it!' says Jemima. 'This'll keep him on his toes. This'll show him who's

boss. Go on, Mick.'

'Interview with Emma Corrigan. Tuesday, 15th July, 9.40 p.m.' I look up, and stiffen in horror.

Mick has produced a small tape recorder and is holding it towards me.

'You first met Jack Harper on a plane. Can you confirm where this was flying from and to?'

He gives me a smile. 'Just speak naturally, like you would to a mate on the phone.'

'Stop it!' I yell. 'Just leave! Leave!'

'Emma, grow up,' says Jemima impatiently. 'Mick's going to find out what this secret is

whether you help him or not, so you might as well be-' She stops abruptly as the door handle

rattles, then turns.

The room seems to swim around me.

Please don't say — please-

As the door slowly opens, I can't breathe. I can't move.

I have never felt so frightened in my entire life.

'Emma?' says Jack, coming in, holding two glasses of water in one hand. 'Are you feeling

OK? I got you both still and sparkling, because I wasn't quite…'

He tails off, his eyes running confusedly over Jemima and Mick. With a flicker of

bewilderment, he takes in Mick's card, still in my hand. Then his gaze falls on the turning tape

recorder and something slides out of his face.

'I think I'll just make myself scarce,' murmurs Mick, raising his eyebrows at Jemima. He slips

the tape recording into his pocket, picks up his rucksack and sidles out of the room. Nobody

speaks for a few moments. All I can hear is the throbbing in my head.

'Who was that?' says Jack at last. 'A journalist?'

All the light has gone from his eyes. He looks as though someone just stamped on his garden.

'I… Jack…' I say huskily. 'It's not… it's not…'

'Why…' He rubs his brow, as though trying to make sense of the situation. 'Why were you

talking to a journalist?'

'Why do you think she was talking to a journalist?' chimes in Jemima proudly.

'What?' Jack's gaze swivels to her with dislike.

'You think you're such a bigshot millionaire! You think you can use little people. You think

you can give away someone's private secrets and completely humiliate them and get away

with it. Well, you can't!'

She takes a few steps towards him, folding her arms and lifting her chin with satisfaction.

'Emma's been waiting for a chance to get her revenge on you, and now she's found it! That

was a journalist, if you want to know. And he's on your case. And when you find your little

Scottish secret plastered all over the papers, then maybe you'll know what it feel like to be

betrayed! And maybe you'll be sorry. Tell him, Emma! Tell him!'

But I'm paralysed.

The minute she said the word Scottish I saw Jack's face change. It kind of snapped. He almost

seemed winded with shock. He looked straight at me and I could see the growing disbelief in

his eyes.

'You might think you know Emma, but you don't,' Jemima is continuing delightedly, like a cat

tearing apart its prey. 'You underestimated her, Jack Harper. You underestimated what she's

capable of.'

Shut up! I'm screaming internally. It's not true! Jack, I would never, I would never …

But nothing in my body will move. I can't even swallow. I'm pinioned, staring helplessly at

him with a face I know is covered with guilt.

Jack opens his mouth, then closes it again. Then he turns on his heel, pushes the door open

and walks out.

For a moment there's silence in the tiny room.

'Well!' says Jemima, smacking her hands triumphantly, 'That showed him!'

It's as though she breaks the spell. Suddenly I can move again. I can draw breath.

'You…' I'm almost shaking too much to speak. 'You stupid… stupid… thoughtless…

bitch!'

The door bursts open and Lissy appears, wide-eyed.

'What the hell happened here?' she demands. 'I just saw Jack storming out. He looked

absolutely like thunder!'

'She brought a journalist here!' I say in anguish, gesturing at Jemima. 'A bloody tabloid

journalist. And Jack found us all closeted here, and he thinks… God know what he thinks…'

'You stupid cow!' Lissy slaps Jemima across the face. 'What were you thinking.'

'Ow! I was helping Emma get vengeance on her enemy.'

'He's not my enemy, you stupid…' I'm on the verge of tears. 'Lissy… what am I going to do?

What?'

'Go,' she says, and looks at me with anxious eyes. 'You can still catch him. Go.'

I pelt out of the door and through the courtyard, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my lungs

burning. When I reach the road I look frantically left and right. Then I spot him, down the

road.

'Jack, wait.'

He's striding along with his mobile phone to his ear, and at my voice he turns round with a

taut face.

'So that's why you were so interested in Scotland.'

'No!' I say, aghast. 'No! Listen, Jack, they don't know. They don't know anything, I promise. I

didn't tell them about-' I stop myself. 'All Jemima knows is that you were there. Nothing

more. She was bluffing. I haven't said anything.'

Jack doesn't answer. He gives me a long look, then starts striding again.

'It was Jemima who called that guy, not me!' I cry desperately, running after him. 'I was trying

to stop her… Jack, you know me! You know I would never do this to you. Yes, I told Jemima

about you being in Scotland. I was hurt, and I was angry, and it… came out. And that was a

mistake. But… but you made a mistake too, and I forgave you.'

He's not even looking at me. He's not even giving me a chance. His silver car pulls up at the

pavement, and he opens the passenger door.

I feel a stab of panic.

'Jack, this wasn't me,' I say frantically. 'It wasn't. You have to believe me. That's not why I

asked about Scotland! I didn't want to… to sell your secret!' Tears are streaming down my

face, and I brush them away roughly. 'I didn't even want to know such a big secret. I just

wanted to know your little secrets! Your little stupid secrets! I just wanted to know you…

like you know me.'

But he doesn't look round. The car door closes with a heavy clunk, and the car moves away

down the road. And I'm left on the pavement, all alone.