Part 14 (1/2)

No. It's not weird. It's fine.

'How are we doing for time?' says Connor. He glances at his watch and in slight horror, I see Jack's eyes falling on it.

Oh G.o.d.

'... I gave him a really nice watch, but he insists on wearing this orange digital thing ...'

'Wait a minute!' says Jack, dawn breaking over his face. He stares at Connor as through seeing him for the first time. 'Wait a minute. You're Ken.'

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh- 'It's Connor,' says Connor puzzledly. 'Connor Martin.'

'I'm sorry!' Jack hits his head with his fist. 'Connor. Of course. And you two ' he gestures to me ' are an item?'

Connor looks uncomfortable.

'I can a.s.sure you, sir, that at work our relations.h.i.+p is strictly professional. However, in a private context, Emma and I are ... yes, having a personal relations.h.i.+p.'

'That's wonderful!' says Jack encouragingly, and Connor beams, like a flower blossoming in the sun.

'In fact,' he adds proudly, 'Emma and I have just decided to move in together.'

'Is that so?' Jack shoots me a look of genuine surprise. 'That's ... great news. When did you make that decision?'

'Just a couple of days ago,' says Connor. 'At the airport.'

'At the airport,' echoes Jack Harper after a short silence. 'Very interesting.'

I can't look at Jack Harper. I'm staring desperately at the floor. Why can't this b.l.o.o.d.y lift go quicker?

'Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy together,' Jack Harper says to Connor. 'You seem very compatible.'

'Oh we are!' says Connor at once. 'We both love jazz, for a start.'

'Is that so?' says Jack thoughtfully. 'You know, I can't think of anything nicer in the world than a shared love of jazz.'

He's taking the p.i.s.s. This is unbearable.

'Really?' says Connor eagerly.

'Absolutely.' Jack nods. 'I'd say jazz, and ... Woody Allen films.'

'We love Woody Allen films!' says Connor in amazed delight. 'Don't we, Emma!'

'Yes,' I say a little hoa.r.s.ely. 'Yes, we do.'

'Now Connor, tell me,' says Jack in confidential tones. 'Did you ever find Emma's ...'

If he says 'G spot' I will die. I will die. I will die.

'... presence here distracting? Because I can imagine I would!' Jack gives Connor a friendly smile, but Connor doesn't smile back.

'As I said, sir,' he says, a little stiffly, 'Emma and I operate on a strictly professional basis whilst at work. We would never dream of abusing the company's time for our own ... ends.' He flushes. 'I mean, by ends, I don't mean ... I meant ...'

'I'm glad to hear it,' says Jack, looking amused.

G.o.d, why does Connor have to be such a goody-goody?

The lift pings, and I feel relief drain over me. Thank G.o.d, at last I can escape- 'Looks like we're all going to the same place,' says Jack Harper with a grin. 'Connor, why don't you lead the way?'

I can't cope with this. I just can't cope. As I pour out cups of tea and coffee for members of the marketing department, I'm outwardly calm, smiling at everyone and even chatting pleasantly. But inside I'm all unsettled and confused. I don't want to admit it to myself, but seeing Connor through Jack Harper's eyes has thrown me.

I love Connor, I tell myself over and over. I didn't mean any of what I said on the plane. I love him. I run my eyes over his face, trying to rea.s.sure myself. There's no doubt about it. Connor is good-looking by any standards. He glows with good health. His hair is s.h.i.+ny and his eyes are blue and he's got a gorgeous dimple when he smiles.

Jack Harper, on the other hand, looks kind of weary and dishevelled. He's got shadows under his eyes and his hair is all over the place. And there's a hole in his jeans.

But even so. It's as if he's some kind of magnet. I'm sitting here, my attention firmly on the tea trolley, and yet somehow I can't keep my eyes off him.

It's because of the plane, I keep telling myself. It's just because we were in a traumatic situation together; that's why. No other reason.

'We need more lateral thinking, people,' Paul is saying. The Panther Bar is simply not performing as it should. Connor, you have the latest research statistics?'

Connor stands up, and I feel a flip of apprehension on his behalf. I can tell he's really nervous from the way he keeps fiddling with his cuffs.

'That's right, Paul.' He picks up a clipboard and clears his throat. 'In our latest survey, 1,000 teenagers were questioned on aspects of the Panther Bar. Unfortunately, the results were inconclusive.'

He presses his remote control. A graph appears on the screen behind him, and we all stare at it obediently.

'Seventy-four per cent of 10-14-year-olds felt the texture could be more chewy,' says Connor earnestly. 'However, 67 per cent of 15-18-year-olds felt the texture could be more crunchy, while 22 per cent felt it could be less crunchy ...'

I glance over Artemis's shoulder and see she's written 'Chewy/crunchy??' on her notepad.

Connor presses the remote control again, and another graph appears.

'Now, 46 per cent of 10-14-year-olds felt the flavour was too tangy. However, 33 per cent of 15-18-year-olds felt it was not tangy enough, while ...'

Oh G.o.d. I know it's Connor. And I love him and everything. But can't he make this sound a bit more interesting?

I glance over to see how Jack Harper is taking it and he raises his eyebrows at me. Immediately I flush, feeling disloyal.

He'll think I was laughing at Connor. Which I wasn't. I wasn't.

'And 90 per cent of female teenagers would prefer the calorie content to be reduced,' Connor concludes. 'But the same proportion would also like to see a thicker chocolate coating.' He gives a helpless shrug.

'They don't know what the h.e.l.l they want,' says someone.

'We polled a broad cross-section of teenagers,' says Connor, 'including Caucasians, Afro-Caribbeans, Asians, and ... er ...' he peers at the paper. 'Jedi knights.'

'Teenagers!' says Artemis, rolling her eyes.