Part 29 (2/2)

You know. Generally speaking. All things considered.

But what sort of standard are we talking about here? I feel like I've been competing in tiny little local shows and suddenly I'm taking on the Olympics. Jack Harper is an international multimillionaire. He must have dated models and ... and gymnasts ... women with enormous perky b.r.e.a.s.t.s ... kinky stuff involving muscles I don't even think I possess.

How am I ever going to match up? How? I'm starting to feel sick. This was a bad, bad idea. I'm never going to be as good as the president of Origin Software, am I? I can just imagine her, with her long legs and $400 underwear and honed, tanned body ... maybe a whip in her hand ... maybe her bis.e.xual glamour model friend at the ready to spice things up ...

OK, just stop. This is getting ridiculous. I'll be fine. I'm sure I'll be fine. It'll be like doing a ballet exam once you get into it, you forget to be nervous. My old ballet teacher always used to say to us, 'As long as you keep your legs nicely turned out and a smile on your face, you'll do splendidly.'

Which I guess kind of applies here, too.

I glance at my watch and feel a fresh spasm of fright. It's one o'clock. On the dot.

Time to go and have s.e.x. I stand up, and do a few surrept.i.tious limbering-up exercises, just in case. Then I take a deep breath and, with a thumping heart, begin to walk towards the house. I've just reached the edge of the lawn when a shrill voice hits my ears.

'There she is! Emma! Cooee!'

That sounded just like my mum. Weird. I stop briefly, and turn round, but I can't see anyone. It must be a hallucination. It must be subconscious guilt trying to throw me, or something.

'Emma, turn round! Over here!'

Hang on. That sounded like Kerry.

I peer bewilderedly at the crowded scene, my eyes squinting in the suns.h.i.+ne. I can't see anything. I'm looking all around, but I can't see- And then suddenly, like a Magic Eye, they spring into view. Kerry, Nev, and my mum and dad. Walking towards me. All in costume. Mum is wearing a j.a.panese kimono and holding a picnic basket. Dad is dressed as Robin Hood and holding two fold-up chairs. Nev is in a Superman costume and holding a bottle of wine. And Kerry is wearing an entire Marilyn Monroe outfit, including platinum blond wig and high-heeled shoes, and complacently soaking up the stares.

What's going on?

What are they doing here?

I didn't tell them about the Corporate Family Day. I know I didn't. I'm positive I didn't.

'Hi, Emma!' says Kerry as she gets near. 'Like the outfit?' She gives a little s.h.i.+mmy and pats her blond wig.

'Who are you supposed to be, darling?' says Mum, looking in puzzlement at my nylon dress. 'Is it Heidi?'

'I ...' I rub my face. 'Mum ... What are you doing here? I never I mean, I forgot to tell you.'

'I know you did,' says Kerry. 'But your friend Artemis told me all about it the other day, when I phoned.'

I stare at her, unable to speak.

I will kill Artemis. I will murder her.

'So what time's the fancy dress contest?' says Kerry, winking at two teenage boys who are gawping at her. 'We haven't missed it, have we?'

'There ... there isn't a contest,' I say, finding my voice.

'Really?' Kerry looks put out.

I don't believe her. This is why she's come here, isn't it? To win a stupid compet.i.tion.

'You came all this way just for a fancy dress contest?' I can't resist saying.

'Of course not!' Kerry quickly regains her usual scornful expression. 'Nev and I are taking your mum and dad to Hanwood Manor. It's near here. So we thought we'd drop in.'

I feel a sparkle of relief. Thank G.o.d. We can have a little chat, then they can be on their way.

'We've brought a picnic,' says Mum. 'Now, let's find a nice spot.'

'Do you think you've got time for a picnic?' I say, trying to sound casual. 'You might get caught in traffic. In fact, maybe you should head off now, just to be on the safe side ...'

'The table's not booked until seven!' says Kerry, giving me an odd look. 'How about under that tree?'

I watch dumbly as Mum shakes out a plaid picnic rug, and Dad sets up the two chairs. I cannot sit down and have a family picnic when Jack is waiting to have s.e.x with me. I have to do something, quick. Think.

'Um, the thing is,' I say in sudden inspiration, 'the thing is, actually, I won't be able to stay. We've all got duties to do.'

'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 gla.s.s of wine.

'So, is Connor here?' asks Mum, decanting chicken drumsticks onto a plate.

'Ss.h.!.+ 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 pa.s.ses me a plate, I see Sven pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.s on the message,' he says.

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