Part 37 (1/2)

'Your mother told you this?' says Lissy.

'Yes,' says Jemima. 'It was rather sweet, actually. On my eighteenth birthday she sat me down and said we should have a little chat about men and women-'

Lissy is staring at her incredulously.

'In which she instructed you to rub chilli oil into men's genitals?'

'Only if they treat you badly,' says Jemima in annoyance. 'What is your problem, Lissy? Do you think you should just let men walk all over you and get away with it? Great blow for feminism.'

'I'm not saying that,' says Lissy. 'I just wouldn't get my revenge with ... chilli oil!'

'Well, what would you do then, clever clogs?' says Jemima, putting her hands on her hips.

'OK,' says Lissy. 'If I was going to stoop so low as get my revenge, which I never would because personally I think it's a huge mistake ...' She pauses for breath. 'I'd do exactly what he did. I'd expose one of his secrets.'

'Actually ... that's rather good,' says Jemima grudgingly.

'Humiliate him,' says Lissy, with a tiny air of vindication. 'Embarra.s.s him. See how he likes it.'

They both turn and look at me expectantly.

'But I don't know any of his secrets,' I say.

'You must do!' says Jemima.

'Of course you do!'

'I don't,' I say, feeling a fresh humiliation. 'Lissy, you had it right all along. Our relations.h.i.+p was completely one-sided. I shared all my secrets with him but he didn't share any of his with me. He didn't tell me anything. We weren't soulmates. I was a completely deluded moron.'

'Emma, you weren't a moron,' says Lissy, putting a sympathetic hand on mine. 'You were just trusting.'

'Trusting moron it's the same thing.'

'You must know something!' says Jemima. 'You slept with him, for goodness sake! He must have some secret. Some weak point.'

'An Achilles' heel,' puts in Lissy, and Jemima gives her an odd look.

'It doesn't have to be to do with his feet,' she says, and turns to me, pulling a 'Lissy's lost it' face. 'It could be anything. Anything at all. Think back!'

I close my eyes obediently and cast my mind back. But my mind's swirling a bit, from all that schnapps. Secrets ... Jack's secrets ... think back ...

Scotland. Suddenly a coherent thought pa.s.ses through my mind. I open my eyes, feeling a tingle of exhilaration. I do know one of his secrets. I do!

'What?' says Jemima avidly. 'Have you remembered something?'

'He ...' I stop, feeling torn.

I did make a promise to Jack. I did promise.

But then, so what? So b.l.o.o.d.y what? My chest swells in emotion again. Why on earth am I keeping any stupid promise to him? It's not like he kept my secrets to himself, is it?

'He was in Scotland!' I say triumphantly. 'The first time we met after the plane, he asked me to keep it a secret that he was in Scotland.'

'Why did he do that?' says Lissy.

'I dunno.'

'What was he doing in Scotland?' puts in Jemima.

'I dunno.'

There's a pause.

'Hmm,' says Jemima kindly. 'It's not the most embarra.s.sing secret in the world, is it? I mean, plenty of smart people live in Scotland. Haven't you got anything better? Like ... does he wear a chest wig?'

'A chest wig!' Lissy gives an explosive snort of laughter. 'Or a toupee!'

'Of course he doesn't wear a chest wig. Or a toupee,' I retort indignantly. Do they honestly think I'd go out with a man who wore a toupee?

'Well then, you'll have to make something up,' says Jemima. 'You know, before the affair with the scientist, Mummy was treated very badly by some politician chap. So she made up a rumour that he was taking bribes from the Communist party, and pa.s.sed it round the House of Commons. She always says, that taught Dennis a lesson!'

'Not ... Dennis Llewellyn?' Lissy says.

'Er, yes, I think that was him.'

'The disgraced Home Secretary?' Lissy looks aghast. 'The one who spent his whole life fighting to clear his name and ended up in a mental inst.i.tution?'

'Well, he shouldn't have messed Mummy around, should he?' says Jemima, sticking out her chin. A bleeper goes off in her pocket. 'Time for my footbath!'

As she disappears back into the house, Lissy rolls her eyes.

'She's nuts,' she says. 'Totally nuts. Emma, you are not making anything up about Jack Harper.'

'I won't make anything up!' I say indignantly. 'Who do you think I am? Anyway.' I stare into my schnapps, feeling my exhilaration fade away. 'Who am I kidding? I could never get my revenge on Jack. I could never hurt him. He doesn't have any weak points. He's a huge, powerful millionaire.' I take a miserable slug of my drink. 'And I'm a nothing-special ... c.r.a.ppy ... ordinary ... nothing.'

TWENTY-ONE.

The next morning I wake up full of sick dread. I feel exactly like a five-year-old who doesn't want to go to school. A five-year-old with a severe hangover, that is.

'I can't go,' I say, as 8.30 arrives. 'I can't face them.'

'Yes you can,' says Lissy rea.s.suringly, doing up my jacket b.u.t.tons. 'It'll be fine. Just keep your chin up.'

'What if they're horrid to me?'

'They won't be horrid to you. They're your friends. Anyway, they'll probably all have forgotten about it by now.'