Part 35 (1/2)

I enter the empty marketing department, where phones are shrilly ringing around. The habit's too ingrained, I can't ignore them.

'h.e.l.lo?' I say, picking up one randomly.

'So!' comes Jemima's furious voice. '”She borrows designer shoes from her flatmate and pa.s.ses them off as her own.” Whose shoes might those be, then? Lissy's?'

'Look, Jemima, can I just ... I'm sorry ... I have to go,' I say feebly, and put the phone down.

No more phones. Get bag. Go.

As I zip up my bag with trembling hands, a couple of people who have followed me into the office are picking up some of the ringing phones.

'Emma, your grandad's on the line,' says Artemis, putting her hand over the receiver. 'Something about the night bus and he'll never trust you again?'

'You have a call from Harvey's Bristol Cream publicity department,' chimes in Caroline. 'They want to know where they can send you a free case of sweet sherry?'

'How did they get my name? How? Has the word spread already? Are the women on reception telling everybody?'

'Emma, I have your dad here,' says Nick. 'He says he needs to talk to you urgently ...'

'I can't,' I say numbly. 'I can't talk to anybody. I have to ... I have to ...'

I grab my jacket and almost run out of the office and down the corridor to the stairs. Everywhere, people are making their way back to their offices after watching the interview, and they all stare at me as I hurry by.

'Emma!' As I'm nearing the stairs, a woman named Fiona, whom I barely know, grabs me by the arm. She weighs about 300 pounds and is always campaigning for bigger chairs and wider doorways. 'Never be ashamed of your body. Rejoice in it! The earth mother has given it to you! If you want to come to our workshop on Sat.u.r.day ...'

I tear my arm away in horror, and start clattering down the marble stairs. But as I reach the next floor, someone else grabs my arm.

'Hey, can you tell me which charity shops you go to?' It's a girl I don't even recognize. 'Because you always look really well dressed to me ...'

'I adore Barbie dolls too!' Carol Finch from Accounts is suddenly in my path. 'Shall we start a club together, Emma?'

'I ... I really have to go.'

I back away, then start running down the stairs. But people keep accosting me from all directions.

'I didn't realize I was a lesbian till I was thirty-three ...'

'A lot of people are confused about religion. This is a leaflet about our Bible study group ...'

'Leave me alone!' I yell in anguish. 'Everyone just leave me alone!'

I sprint for the entrance, the voices following me, echoing on the marble floor. As I'm frantically pus.h.i.+ng against the heavy gla.s.s doors, Dave the security guard saunters up, and stares right at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

'They look all right to me, love,' he says encouragingly.

I finally get the door open, run outside and down the road, not looking right or left. At last I come to a halt, sink down on a bench and bury my head in my hands.

My body is still reverberating with shock.

I can barely form a coherent thought.

I have never been so completely and utterly embarra.s.sed in all my life.

TWENTY.

'Are you OK? Emma?'

I've been sitting on the bench for about five minutes, staring down at the pavement, my mind a whirl of confusion. Now there's a voice in my ear, above the everyday street sounds of people walking by and buses grinding and cars hooting. It's a man's voice. I open my eyes, blink in the sunlight and stare dazedly at a pair of green eyes that seem familiar.

Then suddenly I realize. It's Aidan from the smoothie bar.

'Is everything all right?' he's saying. 'Are you OK?'

For a few moments I can't quite reply. All my emotions have been scattered on the floor like a dropped tea tray, and I'm not sure which one to pick up first.

'I think that would have to be a no,' I say at last. 'I'm not OK. I'm not OK at all.'

'Oh.' He looks alarmed. 'Well ... is there anything I can-'

'Would you be OK if all your secrets had been revealed on television by a man you trusted?' I say shakily. 'Would you be OK if you'd just been mortified in front of all your friends and colleagues and family?'

There's a bemused silence.

'Would you?'

'Er ... probably not?' he hazards hurriedly.

'Exactly! I mean, how would you feel if someone revealed in public that you ... you wore women's underwear?'

He turns pale with shock.

'I don't wear women's underwear!'

'I know you don't wear women's underwear!' I expostulate. 'Or rather, I don't know that you don't, but just a.s.suming for a moment that you did. How would you like it if someone just told everyone in a so-called business interview on television?'

Aidan stares at me, as though his mind is suddenly putting two and two together.

'Wait a moment. That interview with Jack Harper. Is that what you're talking about? We had it on in the smoothie bar.'

'Oh great!' I throw my hands in the air. 'Just great! Because you know, it would be a shame if anyone in the entire universe had missed it.'

'So, that's you? Who reads fifteen horoscopes a day and lies about her ...' He breaks off at my expression. 'Sorry. Sorry. You must be feeling very hurt.'

'Yes. I am. I'm feeling hurt. And angry. And embarra.s.sed.'

And I'm confused, I add silently. I'm so confused and shocked and bewildered I feel as though I can barely keep my balance on this bench. In the s.p.a.ce of a few minutes, my entire world has turned upside down.