Part 38 (1/2)

'And you're still going to get even,' adds Jemima determinedly.

It's one of those amazingly bright, crisp mornings that make you feel that London really is the best city in the world. As I'm walking from the tube station to work, my spirits can't help rising a little.

Maybe Lissy's right. Maybe everyone at work will already have forgotten about the whole thing. I mean, let's get a bit of proportion here. It wasn't that big a deal. It wasn't that interesting. Surely some other piece of gossip will have come along in the meantime. Surely everyone will be talking about ... the football. Or politics or something. Exactly.

I push open the gla.s.s door to the foyer with a small spurt of optimism, and walk in, my head held high.

'... a Barbie bedspread!' I immediately hear from across the marble. A guy from Accounts is talking to a woman with a 'Visitor' badge, who is listening avidly.

'... s.h.a.gging Jack Harper all along?' comes a voice from above me, and I look up to see a group of girls walking up the stairs.

'It's Connor I feel sorry for,' one replies. 'That poor guy ...'

'... pretended she loved jazz,' someone else is saying as they get out of the lift. 'I mean, why on earth would you do that?'

OK. So ... they haven't forgotten.

All my crisp optimism dies away, and for an instant I consider running away and spending the rest of my life under the duvet.

But I can't do that.

For a start, I'd probably get bored after about a week.

And secondly ... I have to face them. I have to do this.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I slowly make my way up the stairs and along the corridor. Everyone I pa.s.s either blatantly stares at me, or pretends they're not looking when they are, and at least five conversations are hastily broken off as I approach.

As I reach the door to the marketing department, I take a deep breath, then walk in, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.

'Hi everyone,' I say, taking off my jacket and hanging it on my chair.

'Emma!' exclaims Artemis in tones of sarcastic delight.'Well I never!'

'Good morning, Emma,' says Paul, coming out of his office and giving me an appraising look. 'You OK?'

'Fine, thanks.'

'Anything you'd like to ... talk about?' To my surprise he looks as if he genuinely means it.

But honestly. What does he think? That I'm going to go in there and sob on his shoulder, 'That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Jack Harper used me'?

I'll only do that if I get really, really desperate.

'No,' I say, my face p.r.i.c.kling. 'Thanks, but I'm OK.'

'Good.' He pauses, then adopts a more businesslike tone. 'Now, I'm a.s.suming that when you disappeared yesterday, it was because you'd decided to work from home.'

'Er ... yes.' I clear my throat. 'That's right.'

'No doubt you got lots of useful tasks done?'

'Er ... yes. Loads.'

'Excellent. Just what I thought. All right, then, carry on. And the rest of you.' Paul looks around the office warningly. 'Remember what I said.'

'Of course,' says Artemis at once. 'We all remember!'

Paul disappears into his office again, and I stare rigidly at my computer as it warms up. It'll be fine, I tell myself. I'll just concentrate on my work, completely immerse myself ...

Suddenly I become aware that someone's humming a tune, quite loudly. It's something I recognize. It's ...

It's the Carpenters.

And now a few others around the room are joining in on the chorus.

'Close to yoooou ...'

'All right, Emma?' says Nick, as my head jerks up suspiciously. 'D'you want a hanky?'

'Close to yoooou ...' everybody trills in unison again, and I hear m.u.f.fled laughter.

I'm not going to react. I'm not going to give them the pleasure.

As calmly as possible I click onto my emails, and give a small gasp of shock. I normally get about ten emails every morning, if that. Today I have ninety-five.

Dad: I'd really like to talk ...

Carol: I've already got two more people for our Barbie Club!

Moira: I know where you can get really comfy G-strings ...

Sharon: So how long has this been going on?!!

Fiona: Re: the body awareness workshop ...

I scroll down the endless list and suddenly feel a stabbing in my heart.

There are three from Jack.

What should I do?

Should I read them?

My hand hovers uncertainly over my mouse. Does he deserve at least a chance to explain?

'Oh Emma,' says Artemis innocently, coming over to my desk with a carrier bag. 'I've got this jumper I wondered if you'd like. It's a bit too small for me, but it's very nice. And it should fit you, because ' she pauses, and catches Caroline's eye 'it's a size eight.'

Immediately both of them erupt into hysterical giggles.

'Thanks, Artemis,' I say shortly. 'That's really sweet of you.'