Part 18 (2/2)

Jack's laughter vanishes, and he looks as though I've slapped him. For a few moments he stares at me, saying nothing. Then he takes a step back and releases the lift b.u.t.ton.

'You're right,' he says in a completely different voice. 'Your personal life is none of my business. I overstepped the mark, and I apologize.'

I feel a spasm of dismay.

'I ... I didn't mean-'

'No. You're right.' He stares at the floor for a few moments, then looks up. 'So, I leave for the States tomorrow. It's been a very pleasant stay, and I'd like to thank you for all your help. Will I see you at the drinks party tonight?'

'I ... I don't know,' I say.

The atmosphere has disintegrated.

This is awful. It's horrible. I want to say something, I want to put it back to the way it was before, all easy and joking. But I can't find the words.

We reach the ninth floor, and the doors open.

'I think I can manage these from here,' Jack says. 'I really only asked you along for the company.'

Awkwardly, I transfer the folders to his arms.

'Well, Emma,' he says in the same formal voice. 'In case I don't see you later on ... it was nice knowing you.' He meets my eyes and a glimmer of his old, warm expression returns. 'I really mean that.'

'You too,' I say, my throat tight.

I don't want him to go. I don't want this to be the end. I feel like suggesting a quick drink. I feel like clinging to his hand and saying: Don't leave.

G.o.d, what's wrong with me?

'Have a good journey,' I manage as he shakes my hand. Then he turns on his heel and walks off down the corridor.

I open my mouth a couple of times to call after him but what would I say? There's nothing to say. By tomorrow morning he'll be on a plane back to his life. And I'll be left here in mine.

I feel leaden for the rest of the day. Everyone else is talking about Jack Harper's leaving party, but I leave work half an hour early. I go straight home and make myself some hot chocolate, and I'm sitting on the sofa, staring into s.p.a.ce when Connor lets himself into the flat.

I look up as he walks into the room, and immediately I know something's different. Not with him. He hasn't changed a bit.

But I have. I've changed.

'Hi,' he says, and kisses me lightly on the head. 'Shall we go?'

'Go?'

'To look at the flat on Edith Road. We'll have to hurry if we're going to make it to the party. Oh, and my mother's given us a house-warming present. It was delivered to work.'

He hands me a cardboard box, I pull out a gla.s.s teapot and look at it blankly.

'You can keep the tea-leaves separate from the water. Mum says it really does make a better cup of tea-'

'Connor,' I hear myself saying. 'I can't do this.'

'It's quite easy. You just have to lift the-'

'No.' I shut my eyes, trying to gather some courage, then open them again. 'I can't do this. I can't move in with you.'

'What?' Connor stares at me. 'Has something happened?'

'Yes. No.' I swallow. 'I've been having doubts for a while. About us. And recently they've ... they've been confirmed. If we carry on, I'll be a hypocrite. It's not fair to either of us.'

'What?' Connor rubs his face. 'Emma, are you saying you want to ... to ...'

'I want to break up,' I say, staring at the carpet.

'You're joking.'

'I'm not joking!' I say in sudden anguish. 'I'm not joking, OK?'

'But ... this is ridiculous! It's ridiculous!' Connor's pacing around the room like a rattled lion. Suddenly he looks at me.

'It's that plane journey.'

'What?' I jump as though I've been scalded. 'What do you mean?'

'You've been different ever since that plane ride down from Scotland.'

'No I haven't!'

'You have! You've been edgy, you've been tense ...' Connor squats down in front of me and takes my hands. 'Emma, I think maybe you're still suffering some kind of trauma. You could have counselling.'

'Connor, I don't need counselling!' I jerk my hands away. 'But maybe you're right. Maybe that plane ride did ...' I swallow. 'Affect me. Maybe it brought my life into perspective and make me realize a few things. And one of the things I've realized is, we aren't right for each other.'

Slowly Connor sinks down onto the carpet, his face bewildered.

'But things have been great! We've been having lots of s.e.x-'

'I know.'

'Is there someone else?'

'No!' I say sharply. 'Of course there's no-one else!' I rub my finger roughly up and down the cover of the sofa.

'This isn't you talking,' says Connor suddenly. 'It's just the mood you're in. I'll run you a nice hot bath, light some scented candles ...'

'Connor, please!' I cry. 'No more scented candles! You have to listen to me. And you have to believe me.' I look straight into his eyes. 'I want to break up.'

'I don't believe you!' he says, shaking his head. 'I know you, Emma! You're not that kind of person. You wouldn't just throw away something like that. You wouldn't-'

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