IX. Express your personal opinion on the following points.

1.’… it's far too easy to take our families for granted and that they gave us life and we should

cherish them.’

2. “ Do not to let your feelings (very natural and usual ones) of momentary irritation and

discomfort be seen by others; don't (as you so often did and do) let every little feeling be

read in your face and seen in your manner. Queen Victoria (1819-1901) British royalty -Letter to Princess Royal, 27 Sep 1858; in " Dearest Child'"

3. The nice thing about egotists is that they don't talk about other people. -- Lucille S. Harper

4. There is no such thing as fate.

5. Don’t cry over spilled milk.

X. Identify the stylistic devices and lexical expressive means in the following sentences:

1. I know this because I've typed out blurbs about him approximately a million times.

2. He looks like a million dollars.

3. With a spurt of adrenalin, I find myself reaching for my comb and checking my lip-gloss.

4. Jack Harper will arrive and I'll still be staring at it like a moron.

5. And as I see his face I feel an almighty thud, as though a bowling ball's landed hard in my chest.

6. With wobbly legs, I walk back to my desk, trying not to drop the coffee on the floor.

7. My blood runs cold.

8. It was like a... a honeytrap!

9. As I come in, he looks up, and the grave expression on his face makes my stomach turn over.

10. 'Right! ' I feel a thud of anticipation. 'Anything! I mean... what is it? '

SECTION 3 (Chapters 6-8)

Read the suggested chapters and do the tasks that follow.

SIX

For the rest of the day there's a kind of festive atmos­phere at work. But I just sit there, unable to believe what just happened. And as I travel home that evening, my heart is still pounding at the unlikeliness of it all. At the injustice of it all.

He was a stranger. He was supposed to be a stranger. The whole point about strangers is, they disappear into the ether, never to be seen again. Not turn up at the office. Not ask you what eight nines are. Not turn out to be your mega-boss employer.

Well, all I can say is, that's taught me. My parents always said never talk to strangers, and they were right. I'm never telling a stranger anything again. Ever. I've arranged to go to Connor's flat in the evening, and when I arrive I feel my body expand in relief. Away from the office. Away from all the endless Jack Harper talk. And Connor's already cooking. I mean, how perfect is that? The kitchen is full of a wonderful garlicky-herby smell, and there's a glass of wine already waiting for me on the table. 'Hi! ' I say, and give him a kiss. 'Hi, darling! ' he says, looking up from the stove. Shit. I totally forgot to say Darling. OK, how am I going to remember this?

I know. I'll write it on my hand. 'Have a look at those. I downloaded them from the Internet.' Connor gestures to a folder on the table with a wide smile. I open it, and find myself looking at a grainy black and white picture of a room with a sofa and a pot plant.

'Flat details! ' I say, taken aback. 'Wow. That's quick. I haven't even given notice yet.'

'Well, we need to start looking, ' says Connor. 'Look, that one's got a balcony. And there's one with a working fireplace! '

'Gosh! '

I sit down on a nearby chair and peer at the blurry photograph, trying to imagine me and Connor living in it together. Sitting on that sofa. Just the two of us, every single evening.

I wonder what we'll talk about.

Well! We'll talk about... whatever we always talk about.

Maybe we'll play Monopoly. Just if we get bored or anything.

I turn to another sheet and feel a pang of excitement.

This flat has wooden floors and shutters! I've always wanted wooden floors and shutters. And look at that cool kitchen, with all granite worktops...

Oh, this is going to be so great. I can't wait!

I take a happy slug of wine, and am just sinking comfortably back when Connor says, 'So! Isn't it exciting about Jack Harper coming over.'

Oh God. Please. Not more talk about bloody Jack Harper.

'Did you get to meet him? ' he adds, coming over with a bowl of peanuts. 'I heard he went into Marketing.' 'Um, yes, I met him.' 'He came into Research this afternoon, but I was at a meeting.' Connor looks at me, agog. 'So what's he like? 'He’s … I don't know. Dark hair... American... So how did the meeting go? '

Connor totally ignores my attempt to change the subject.

'Isn't it exciting, though? ' His face is glowing. 'Jack Harper! '

'I suppose so.' I shrug. 'Anyway—' 'Emma! Aren't you excited? ' Connor looks aston­ished. 'We're talking about the founder of the company! We're talking about the man who came up with the concept of Panther Cola. Who took an unknown brand, repackaged it and sold it to the world! He turned a failing company into a huge, successful corporation. And now we're all getting to meet him. Don't you find that thrilling? '

'Yes, ' I say at last. 'It's... thrilling.' 'This could be the opportunity of a lifetime for all of us. To learn from the genius himself! You know, he's never written a book, he's never shared his thoughts with anyone except Pete Laidler...' He reaches into the fridge for a can of Panther Cola and cracks it open. Connor has to be the most loyal employee in the world. I once bought a Pepsi when we were out on a picnic, and he nearly had a hernia.

'You know what I would love above anything? ' he says, taking a gulp. 'A one-to-one with him.' He looks at me, his eyes shining. 'A one-to-one with Jack Harper! Wouldn't that be the most fantastic career boost? ' A one-to-one with Jack Harper. Yup, that boosted my career great. 'I suppose, ' I say reluctantly.

'Of course it would be! Just having the chance to listen to him. To hear what he has to say! I mean, the guy's been shut away for three years. What ideas must he have been generating all this time? He must have so many insights and theories, not just about marketing, but about business... about the way people work... about life itself.'

Connor's enthusiastic voice is like salt rubbing into my sore skin. So, let's just see quite how spectacularly I have played this wrong, shall we? I'm sitting on a plane next to the great Jack Harper, creative genius and source of all wisdom on business and marketing, not to mention the great mysteries of life itself.

And what do I do? Do I ask him insightful questions? Do I engage him in intelligent conversation? Do I learn anything from him at all?

No. I blabber on about what kind of underwear I prefer.

Great career move, Emma. One of the best.

The next day, Connor is off to a meeting first thing, but before he goes he digs out an old magazine article about Jack Harper.

'Read this, ' he says, through a mouthful of toast. 'It's good background information.'

I don't want any background information! I feel like retorting, but Connor's already out of the door.

I'm tempted to leave it behind and not even bother looking at it, but it's quite a long journey from Connor's place to work, and I haven't got any magazines with me. So I take the article with me, and grudgingly start reading it on the tube, and I suppose it is quite an inter­esting story. How Harper and Pete Laidler were friends, and they decided to go into business, and Jack was the creative one and Pete was the extrovert play­boy one, and they became multimillionaires together, and they were so close they were practically like brothers. And then Pete was killed in a car crash. And Jack was so devastated he shut himself away from the world and said he was giving it all up.

And of course now I read all this I'm starting to feel a bit stupid. I should have recognized Jack Harper. I mean, I certainly recognize Pete Laidler. For one thing he looks - looked - just like Robert Redford. And for another, he was all over the papers when he died. I can remember it vividly now, even though I had nothing to do with the Panther Corporation then. He crashed his Mercedes, and everyone said it was just like

Princess Diana.

I'm so busy reading, I nearly miss my stop and have to make one of those stupid dashes for the doors, where everyone looks at you like: You complete moron, did you not know that your stop was coming up? And then, as the doors close, I realize I've left the article behind on the tube.

Oh well. I'd kind of got the gist of it. It's a bright sunshiny morning, and I head towards the juice bar where I usually pop in before work. I've got into the habit of picking up a mango smoothie every morning, because it's healthy.

And also because there is a very cute New Zealand guy who works behind the counter, called Aidan. (In fact, I had a miniature crush on him, before I started going out with Connor.) When he isn't working in the smoothie bar he's doing a course on sports science, and he's always telling me stuff about essential minerals, and what your carb-ratio should be.

'Hiya, ' he says as I come in. 'How's the kick-boxing going? '

'Oh! ' I say, colouring slightly. 'It's great, thanks.'

'Did you try that new manoeuvre I told you about? '

'Yes! It really helped! '

'I thought it would, ' he says, looking pleased, and goes off to make my mango smoothie.

OK. So the truth is, I don't really do kick-boxing. I did try it once, at our local leisure centre, and to be honest, I was shocked! I had no idea it would be so violent. But Aidan was so enthused about it, and kept saying how it would transform my life, I couldn't bring myself to admit I'd given up after only one session. It just seemed so lame. So I kind of... fibbed. And I mean, it's not like it matters. He'll never know. It's not as if I ever see him outside the smoothie bar.

'That's one mango smoothie, ' says Aidan.

'And a chocolate brownie, ' I say. 'For... my colleague.' Aidan picks up the brownie and pops it in a bag.

'You know, that colleague of yours needs to think about her refined sugar levels, ' he says with a concerned frown. 'That must be - four brownies this week? '

'I know, 'I say earnestly. Til tell her. Thanks, Aidan.' 'No problem! ' says Aidan. 'And remember: one-two-swivel! '

'One-two-swivel, ' I repeat brightly. Til remember! '

As I arrive at the office, Paul appears out of his room, snaps his fingers at me and says, 'Appraisal.'

My stomach gives an almighty lurch, and I nearly choke on my last bite of chocolate brownie. Oh God. This is it. I'm not ready.

Yes I am. Come on. Exude confidence. I am a woman on her way somewhere.

Suddenly I remember Kerry and her 'I am a successful woman' walk. I know Kerry's an obnoxious cow, but she does have her own travel agency and make zillions of pounds a year. She must be doing something right. Maybe I should give it a go. Cautiously I stick out my bust, lift my head and start striding across the office with a fixed, alert expression on my face.

'Have you got period pain or something? ' says Paul crudely as I reach his door. 'No! ' I say in shock. 'Well you look very odd. Now sit down.' He shuts the door, sits down at his desk and opens a form marked Staff Appraisal Review. Tm sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. But what with Jack Harper's arrival, everything got buggered up.'

'That's OK.'

I try to smile but my mouth is suddenly dry. I can't believe how nervous I feel. This is worse than a school report.

'OK. So... Emma Corrigan.' He looks at the form and starts ticking boxes. 'Generally, you're doing fine. You're not generally late... you understand the tasks given to you... you're fairly efficient... you work OK with your colleagues... blah blah... blah... Any problems? ' he says, looking up. 'Er... no.'

'Do you feel racially harassed? ' 'Er... no.'

'Good.' He ticks another box. 'Well I think that's it. Well done. Can you send Nick in to see me? ' What? Has he forgotten?

'Urn, what about my promotion? ' I say, trying not to sound too anxious.

'Promotion? ' He stares at me. 'What promotion? ' 'To Marketing Executive.' 'What the fuck are you talking about? ' 'It said. It said in the ad for my job...' I pull the crumpled ad out of my jeans pocket, where it's been since yesterday. '" Possible promotion after a year." It says it right there.' I push it across the desk, and he looks at it with a frown.

'Emma, that was only for exceptional candidates. You're not ready for a promotion. You'll have to prove yourself first.'

'But I'm doing everything as well as I can! If you just give me a chance —'

'You had the chance at Glen Oil.' Paul raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a twinge of humiliation. 'Emma, bottom line is, you're not ready for a higher position. In a year we'll see.'

A year? '

'OK? Now hop it.'

My mind is whirling. I have to accept this in a calm, dignified way. I have to say something like 'I respect your decision, Paul', shake his hand and leave the room. This is what I have to do.

The only trouble is, I can't seem to get up out of my chair.

After a few moments Paul looks puzzledly at me. 'That's it, Emma.'

I can't move. Once I leave this room, it's over. 'Emma? '

'Please promote me, ' I say desperately. 'Please. I have to get a promotion to impress my family. It's the only thing I want in the whole world, and I'll work so hard, I promise, I'll come in at weekends, and I'll... I'll wear smart suits...'

'What? ' Paul is staring at me as though I've turned into a goldfish.

'You don't have to pay me any more salary! I'll do all the same jobs as before. I'll even pay to have my new business cards printed! I mean, it won't make any difference to you. You won't even know I've been promoted! '

I break off, breathing hard.

'I think you'll find that's not quite the point of promotion, Emma, ' says Paul sarcastically. 'I'm afraid the answer's no. Even more so.' 'But—'

'Emma, a word of advice. If you want to get ahead, you have to create your own chances. You have to carve out your own opportunities. Now seriously. Could you please fuck off out of my office and get Nick for me? '

As I leave I can see him raising his eyes to heaven and scribbling something else on my form.

Great. He's probably writing 'Deranged lunatic, seek medical help'.

As I walk dejectedly back to my desk, Artemis looks up with a beady expression. 'Oh, Emma, ' she says, 'your cousin Kerry just called for you.'

'Really? ' I say in surprise. Kerry never phones me at work. In fact she never phones me at all. 'Did she leave a message? '

'Yes, she did. She wanted to know, have you heard about your promotion yet? '

OK. This is now official. I hate Kerry.

'Oh right, ' I say, trying to sound as though this is some boring, everyday enquiry. 'Thanks.'

'Are you being promoted, Emma? I didn't know that! ' Her voice is high and piercing, and I see a couple of people raise their heads in interest. 'So, are you going to become a marketing executive? '

'No, ' I mutter, my face hot with humiliation. 'I'm not'

'Oh! ' Artemis pulls a mock-confused face. 'So why did she —'

'Shut up, Artemis, ' says Caroline. I give her a grateful look and slump into my chair.

Another whole year. Another whole year of being the crappy marketing assistant, and everyone thinking I'm useless. Another year of being in debt to Dad, and Kerry and Nev laughing at me, and feeling like a complete failure. I switch on my computer and dispiritedly type a couple of words. But suddenly all my energy's gone.

'I think I'll get a coffee, ' I say. 'Does anyone want oner

'You can't get a coffee, ' says Artemis, giving me an odd look. 'Haven't you seen? '

'What? '

'They've taken the coffee machine away, ' says Nick. 'While you were in with Paul.'

'Taken it away? ' I look at him, puzzled. 'But why? '

'Dunno, ' he says, walking off towards Paul's office. 'They just came and carted it away.'

'We're getting a new machine! ' says Caroline, walking past with a bundle of proofs. 'That's what they were saying downstairs. A really nice one, with proper coffee. Ordered by Jack Harper, apparently.'

She moves off, and I stare after her.

Jack Harper ordered a new coffee machine?

'Emma! ' Artemis is saying impatiently. 'Did you hear that? I want you to find the leaflet we did for the Tesco promotion two years ago. Sorry, Mummy, ' she says into the phone. 'Just telling my assistant some­thing.'

Her assistant. God, it pisses me off when she says that.

But to be honest, I'm feeling a bit too dazed to get annoyed.

It's nothing to do with me, I tell myself firmly as I root around at the bottom of the filing cabinet. It's ridiculous to think I had anything to do with it. He was probably planning to order new coffee anyway. He was probably —

I stand up with a pile of files in my arms and nearly drop them all on the floor.

There he is.

Standing right in front of me.

'Hello again.' His eyes crinkle in a smile. 'How are you doing? '

'Er... good, thanks.' I swallow hard. 'I just heard about the coffee machine. Um... thanks.' 'No problem.'

'Now everyone! ' Paul comes striding up behind him. 'Mr Harper is going to be sitting in on the department this morning.'

'Please.' Jack Harper smiles. 'Call me Jack.' 'Right you are. Jack is going to be sitting in this morning. He's going to observe what you do, find out how we operate as a team. Just behave normally, don't do anything special.' Paul's eyes alight on me and he gives me an ingratiating smile. 'Hi there, Emma! How are you doing? Everything OK? '

'Er, yes thanks, Paul, ' I mutter. 'Everything's great.' 'Good! A happy staff, that's what we like. And, while I've got your attention, ' he coughs a little self­consciously, 'let me just remind you that our Corporate Family Day is coming up, a week on Saturday. A chance for us all to let our hair down, enjoy meeting each other's families, and have some fun! '

We all stare at him a bit blankly. Until this moment, Paul has always referred to this as the Corporate Fuckwit Day and said he'd rather have his balls torn off than bring any member of his family to it.

'Anyway, back to work, everyone! Jack, let me get you a chair.'

'Just ignore me, ' says Jack Harper pleasantly, as he sits down in the corner. 'Behave normally.'

Behave normally. Right. Of course.

So that would be sit down, take my shoes off, check my emails, put some hand cream on, eat a few Smarties, read my horoscope on iVillage, read Connor's horoscope, write 'Emma Corrigan, Managing Director' several times in swirly letters on my notepad, add a border of flowers, send an email to Connor, wait a few minutes to see if he replies, take a swig of mineral water and then finally get round to finding the Tesco leaflet for Artemis. I don't think so.

As I sit back down at my desk, my mind is working quickly. Create your own chances. Carve out your own opportunities. That's what Paul said. And what is this if not an opportunity? Jack Harper himself is sitting here, watching me work. The great Jack Harper. Boss of the entire corpo­ration. Surely I can impress him somehow?

OK, perhaps I haven't got off to the most brilliant start with him. But maybe this is my chance to redeem myself! If I can just somehow show that I'm really bright and motivated...

As I sit, leafing through the file of promotional liter­ature, I'm aware that I'm holding my head slightly higher than usual, as though I'm in a posture class. And as I glance around the office, everyone else seems to be in a posture class, too. Before Jack Harper arrived, Artemis was on the phone to her mum, but now she's put on her horn-rimmed glasses and is typing briskly, occasionally pausing to smile at what she's written in a 'what a genius I am' way. Nick was reading the sports section of the Telegraph, but now I can see him studying some documents with graphs in them, with a deep frown.

'Emma? ' says Artemis in a falsely sweet voice. 'Have you found that leaflet I was asking you for? Not that there's any hurry—'

'Yes, I have! ' I say. I push back my chair, stand up, and walk over to her desk. I'm trying to look as natural as possible. But God, this is like being on telly or some­thing. My legs aren't working properly and my smile is pasted onto my face and I have a horrible conviction I might suddenly shout 'Pants! ' or something.

'Here you are, Artemis, ' I say, and carefully lay the leaflet on her desk.

'Bless you! ' says Artemis. Her eyes meet mine brightly and I realize she's acting, too. She puts her hand on mine, and gives me a twinkly smile. 'I don't know what we'd do without you, Emma! '

'That's quite all right! ' I say, matching her tone. 'Any time! '

Shit, I think as I walk back to my desk. I should have said something cleverer. I should have said, 'Team­work is what keeps this operation together.' OK, never mind. I can still impress him. Trying to act as normally as possible I open a docu­ment and start to type as quickly and efficiently as I can, my back ramrod straight. I've never known the office this quiet. Everyone's tapping away, no-one's chatting. It's like being in an exam. My foot's itching, but I don't dare scratch it.

How on earth do people do those fly-on-the-wall documentaries? I feel completely exhausted, and it's only been about five minutes.

'It's very quiet in here, ' says Jack Harper, sounding puzzled. 'Is it normally this quiet? ' 'Er...' We all look around uncertainly at each other. 'Please, don't mind me. Talk away like you normally would. You must have office discussions.' He gives a friendly smile. 'When I worked in an office, we talked about everything under the sun. Politics, books... For instance, what have you all been reading recently? '

'Actually, I've been reading the new biography of Mao Tse Tung, ' says Artemis at once. 'Fascinating stuff.'

'I'm in the middle of a history of fourteenth-century Europe, ' says Nick.

'I'm just re-reading Proust, ' says Caroline, with a modest shrug. 'In the original French.'

'Ah.' Jack Harper nods, his face unreadable. 'And... Emma, is it? What are you reading? '

'Um, actually...' I swallow, playing for time.

I cannot say Celebrity Doodles - What Do They Mean? Even though it is actually very good. Quick. What's a serious book?

'You were reading Great Expectations, weren't you, Emma? ' says Artemis. 'For your book club.' 'Yes! ' I say in relief. 'Yes, that's right—'

And then I stop abruptly as I meet Jack Harper's gaze. Fuck.

Inside my head, my own voice from the plane is babbling away innocently.

'... just skimmed the back cover and pretended I'd read it...'

'Great Expectations, ' says Jack Harper thoughtfully. 'What did you think of it, Emma? '

I don't believe he asked me that.

For a few moments I can't speak.

'Well! ' I clear my throat at last. 'I thought it... it was really... extremely

'It's a wonderful book, ' says Artemis earnestly. 'Once you fully understand the symbolism.'

Shut up, you stupid show-off. Oh God. What am I going to say?

'I thought it really... resonated, ' I say at last.

'What resonated? ' says Nick.

'The... um...' I clear my throat. 'The resonances.'

There's a puzzled silence.

'The resonances... resonated? ' says Artemis.

'Yes, I say defiantly. 'They did. Anyway, I've got to get on with my work.' I turn away with a roll of my eyes and start typing feverishly.

OK. So the book discussion didn't go that well. But that was just sheer bad luck. Think positive. I can still do this. I can still impress him—

'I just don't know what's wrong with it! ' Artemis is saying in a girly voice. 'I water it every day.'

She pokes her spider plant and gazes at Jack Harper winsomely. 'Do you know anything about plants, Jack? '

'I don't, I'm afraid, ' says Jack, and looks over at me, his face deadpan. 'What do you think could be wrong with it, Emma? '

'... sometimes, when I'm pissed off with Artemis...'

'I... I have no idea/1 say at last, and carry on typing, my face flaming.

OK. Never mind. It doesn't matter. So I watered one little plant with orange juice. So what?

'Has anyone seen my World Cup mug? ' says Paul, walking into the office with a frown. 'I can't seem to find it anywhere.'

'... I broke my boss's mug last week and hid the pieces in my handbag... '

Shit.

OK. Never mind. So I broke one tiny mug, too. It doesn't matter. Just keep typing.

'Hey Jack/ says Nick, in a matey, lads-together voice. 'Just in case you don't think we have any fun, lookup there! ' He nods towards the picture of a photo­copied, G-stringed bottom which has been up on the noticeboard since Christmas. 'We still don't know who it is...'

'... I had a few too many drinks at the last Christmas party...'

OK, now I want to die. Someone please kill me.

'Hi, Emma! ' comes Katie's voice, and I look up to see her hurrying into the office, her face pink with excite­ment. When she sees Jack Harper, she stops dead. 'Oh! '

'It's all right. I'm simply a fly on the wall.' He waves a friendly hand at her. 'Go ahead. Say whatever you were going to say.'

'Hi Katie! ' I manage. 'What is it? '

As soon as I say her name, Jack Harper looks up again, a riveted expression on his face.

I do not like the look of that riveted expression.

What did I tell him about Katie? What? My mind spools furiously back. What did I say? What did I —

I feel an internal lurch. Oh God.

'... we have this secret code where she comes in and says, " Can I go through some numbers with you, Emma? " and it really means " Shall we nip out to Starbucks... " '

I told him our skiving code.

I stare desperately at Katie's eager face, trying somehow to convey the message to her.

Do not say it. Do not say you want to go over some numbers with me.

But she's completely oblivious.

'I just... erm..." She clears her throat in a busi­nesslike way and glances self-consciously at Jack Harper. 'Could I possibly go over some numbers with you, Emma? '

Fuck.

My face floods with colour. My whole body is prick­ling.

'You know, ' I say, in a bright, artificial voice, 'I'm not sure that'll be possible today.'

Katie stares at me in surprise.

'But I have to... I really need you to go over some numbers with me.' She nods in excitement.

'I'm quite tied up here with my work, Katie! ' I force a smile, simultaneously trying to telegraph 'Shut up! '

'It won't take long! Just quickly.'

'I really don't think so.'

Katie is practically hopping from foot to foot.

'But Emma, they're very... important numbers. I really need to... to tell you about them...'

Emma ' At Jack Harper's voice I jump as though I've been stung. He leans towards me confidentially. ‘Maybe you should go over the numbers.’

I stare back at him for a few moments, unable to speak, blood pounding in my ears.

'Right, ' I manage after a long pause. OK. I’ll do that.

SEVEN

As I walk along the street with Katie, half of me is numb with horror, and half almost wants to burst into hysterical laughter. Everyone else is in the office, trying as hard as they can to impress Jack Harper. And here I am, strolling off nonchalantly under his nose for a cappuccino.

'I'm sorry I interrupted you, ' says Katie brightly, as we push our way through the doors of Starbucks. 'With Jack Harper there and everything. I had no idea he'd be just sitting there! But you know, I was really subtle, ' she adds reassuringly. 'He'll never know what we're up to.'

'I'm sure you're right, ' I manage. 'He'll never guess in a million years.'

'Are you OK, Emma? ' Katie looks at me curiously.

'I'm fine! ' I say with a kind of shrill hilarity. 'I'm absolutely fine! So... why the emergency summit? '

'I had to tell you. Two cappuccinos, please.' Katie beams at me excitedly. 'You won't believe it! '

'What is it? '

'I've got a date. I met a new guy! '

'No! ' I say, staring at her. 'Really? That was quick.'

'Yes, it happened yesterday, just like you said! I deliberately walked further than usual in my lunch hour, and I found this really nice place where they were serving lunch. And there was this nice man in the line next to me - and he struck up a conversation with me. Then we shared a table and chatted some more... and I was just leaving, when he said did I fancy having a drink some time? ' She takes the cappuccinos with a beam. 'So we're going out this evening.'

'That's fantastic! ' I say in delight. 'So come on, what's he like? '

'He's lovely. He's called Phillip! He's got these lovely twinkly eyes, and he's really charming and polite, and he's got a great sense of humour...'

'He sounds amazing! '

'I know. I have a really good feeling about him.' Katie's face glows as we sit down. 'I really do. He just seems different. And I know this sounds really stupid, Emma...' she hesitates. 'But I feel you somehow brought him to me.'

'Me? ' I gape at her.

'You gave me the confidence to speak to him.'

'But all I said was—'

'You said you knew I'd meet someone. You had faith in me. And I did! ' Her eyes begin to shine. 'I'm sorry, ' she whispers, and dabs her eyes with a napkin. 'I'm just a bit overcome.'

'Oh Katie.'

'I just really think my life is going to turn around. I think everything's going to get better. And it's all down to you, Emma! '

'Really, Katie, ' I say awkwardly. 'It was nothing.'

'It wasn't nothing! ' she gulps. 'And I wanted to do something for you in return.' She rummages in her bag and pulls out a large piece of orange crochet. 'So I made you this last night.' She looks at me expectantly. 'It's a headscarf.'

For a few moments, I can't move. A crochet head­scarf.

'Katie, ' I manage at last, turning it over in my fingers. 'Really, you... you shouldn't have! '

'I wanted to! To say thank you.' She looks at me earnestly. 'Especially after you lost that crochet belt I made for you for Christmas.'

'Oh! ' I say, feeling a pang of guilt. 'Er, yes. That was... such a shame.' I swallow. 'It was a lovely belt. I was really upset to lose it.'

'Oh what the hell! ' Her eyes well up again. 'I'll make

you a new belt, too.'

'No! ' I say in alarm. 'No, Katie, don't do that.' 'But I want to! ' She leans forward and gives me a hug. 'That's what friends are for! '

It's another twenty minutes before we finish our second cappuccinos and head back for the office. As we approach the Panther building I glance at my watch and see with a lurch that we've been gone thirty-five minutes in all.

'Isn't it amazing we're getting new coffee machines? ' says Katie as we hurry up the steps. 'Oh... yes. It's great.'

My stomach has started to churn at the thought of facing Jack Harper again. I haven't felt so nervous since I took my grade one clarinet exam and when the exam­iner asked me what my name was I burst into tears.

'Well, see you later, ' says Katie as we reach the first floor. 'And thanks, Emma.' 'No problem, ' I say. 'See you later.' As I start to walk along the corridor towards the marketing department, I'm aware that my legs aren't moving quite as quickly as usual. In fact, as the door is nearing, they're getting slower, and slower... and slower...

One of the secretaries from Accounts overtakes me, with a brisk high-heeled pace, and gives me an odd look.

Oh God. I can't go in there.

Yes I can. It'll be fine. I'll just sit down very quietly and get on with my work. Maybe he won't even notice me.

Come on. The longer I leave it, the worse it'll be. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, take a few steps into the marketing department, and open them.

There's a hubbub around Artemis's desk, and no sign of Jack Harper.

'I mean, maybe he's going to rethink the whole company, ' someone's saying.

'I've heard this rumour he's got a secret project..."

'He can't completely centralize the marketing func­tion, ' Artemis is saying, trying to raise her voice above everyone else's.

'Where's Jack Harper? ' I say, trying to sound casual.

'He's gone, ' says Nick, and I feel a whoosh of relief. Gone! He's gone!

'Is he coming back? '

'Don't think so. Emma, have you done those letters for me yet? Because I gave them to you three days ago—'

'I'll do them now, ' I say, and beam at Nick. As I sit down at my desk, I feel as light as a helium balloon. Cheerfully I kick off my shoes, reach for my Evian bottle - and stop.

There's a folded piece of paper resting on my keyboard, with 'Emma' written on it in a handwriting I don't recognize.

Puzzled, I look around the office. No-one's looking at me, waiting for me to find it. In fact no-one seems to have noticed. They're all too busy talking about Jack Harper.

Slowly I unfold it and stare at the message inside.

Hope your meeting was productive. I always find numbers give me a real buzz.

Jack Harper

It could have been worse. It could have read 'Clear your desk'.

Even so, for the rest of the day, I'm completely on edge. Every time anyone walks into the department I feel a little spasm of panic. And when someone starts talking loudly outside our door about how 'Jack says he may pop back into Marketing', I seriously consider hiding in the loos until he's gone.

On the dot of 5.30 I stop typing mid-sentence, close my computer down and grab my coat. I'm not waiting around for him to reappear. I all but run down the stairs, and only begin to relax when I'm safely on the other side of the big glass doors.

The tubes are miraculously quick for once, and I arrive home within twenty minutes. As I push open the front door of the flat I can hear a strange noise coming from Lissy's room. A kind of thumping, bumping sound. Maybe she's moving her furniture around.

'Lissy, ' I call as I go into the kitchen. 'You will not believe what happened today.' I open the fridge, take out a bottle of Evian and hold it against my hot fore­head. After a while I open the bottle and take a few swigs, then wander out into the hall again to see Lissy's door opening.

'Lissy! ' I begin. 'What on earth were you—'

And then I halt, as out of the door comes not Lissy, but a man.

A man! A tall thin guy in trendy black trousers and steel spectacles.

'Oh, ' I say, taken aback. 'Er... hi.'

'Emma! ' says Lissy, following him out. She's wearing a T-shirt over some grey leggings I've never seen before, is drinking a glass of water and looks startled to see me. 'You're home early.'

'I know. I was in a hurry.'

'This is Jean-Paul, ' says Lissy. 'Jean-Paul, my flat­mate Emma.'

'Hello, Jean-Paul, ' I say with a friendly smile. 'Good to meet you, Emma, ' says Jean-Paul, in a French accent.

God, French accents are sexy. I mean, they just are. 'Jean-Paul and I were just... um... going over some case notes, ' says Lissy. 'Oh right, ' I say brightly. 'Lovely! ' Case notes. Yeah, right. Because that would really make a whole load of thumping noises. Lissy is such a dark horse!

'I must be going, ' says Jean-Paul, looking at Lissy. 'I'll just see you out, ' she says, flustered. She disappears out of the front door, and I can hear the two of them murmuring on the landing.

I take a few more swigs of Evian, then walk into the sitting room and slump down heavily on the sofa. My whole body's aching from sitting rigid with tension all day. This is seriously bad for my health. How on earth am I going to survive a whole week of Jack Harper? 'So! ' I say as Lissy walks back into the room. 'What's going on? '

'What do you mean? ' she says shiftily. 'You and Jean-Paul! How long have you two been...'

'We're not, ' starts Lissy, turning red. 'It's not... We were going over case notes. That's all.'

'Sure you were.'

'We were! That's all it was! '

'OK, ' I say, raising my eyebrows. 'If you say so.'

Lissy sometimes gets like this, all shy and abashed. I'll just have to get her pissed one night, and she'll admit it. 'So how was your day? ' she says, sinking onto the floor and reaching for a magazine.

How was my day?

I don't even know where to start.

'My day, ' I say at last. 'My day was a bit of a night­mare.'

'Really? ' says Lissy, looking up in surprise.

'No, take that back. It was a complete nightmare.'

'What happened? ' Lissy's attention is fully grabbed. 'Tell me! '

'OK.' I take a deep breath and smooth my hair back, wondering where on earth to start. 'OK, remember I had that awful flight back from Scotland last week? '

'Yes! ' Lissy's face lights up. 'And Connor came to meet you and it was all really romantic...'

'Yes. Well.' I clear my throat. 'Before that. On the flight. There was this... this man sitting next to me. And the plane got really turbulent.' I bite my lip. 'And the thing is, I honestly thought we were all going to die and this was the last person I would ever see, and... I...'

'Oh my God! ' Lissy claps her hand over her mouth. 'You didn't have sex with him.'

'Worse! I told him all my secrets.'

I'm expecting Lissy to gasp, or say something sympathetic like 'Oh no! ' but she's staring at me blankly.

'What secrets? '

'My secrets. You know.'

Lissy looks as if I've told her I've got an artificial leg.

'You have secrets'? '

'Of course I have secrets! ' I say. 'Everyone has a few secrets.'

'I don't! ' she says at once, looking offended. 'I don't have any secrets.'

'Yes you do! '

'Like what? '

'Like.. like... OK.' I start counting off on my fingers. 'You never told your dad it was you who lost the garage key that time.'

'That was ages ago! ' says Lissy scornfully.

'You never told Simon you were hoping he might propose to you

'I wasn't! ' says Lissy, colouring. 'Well, OK, maybe I

was.. '

'You think that sad guy next door fancies you..."

'That's not a secret, she says, rolling her eyes.

'Oh right. Shall I tell him, then? ' I lean back towards the open window. 'Hey Mike, ' I call. 'Guess what? Lissy thinks you—'

'Stop! ' says Lissy frantically.

'You see? You have got secrets. Everyone has secrets. The Pope probably has a few secrets.'

'OK, ' says Lissy. 'OK. You've made your point. But I don't understand what the problem is. So you told some guy on a plane your secrets—'

'And now he's turned up at work.'

'What? ' Lissy stares at me. 'Are you serious? Who is he? '

'He's...' I'm about to say Jack Harper's name when I remember the promise I made. 'He's just this... this guy who's come in to observe, ' I say vaguely.

'Is he senior? '

'He's... yes. You could say he's pretty senior.'

'Blimey.' Lissy frowns, thinking for a few moments. 'Well, does it really matter? If he knows a few things about you.'

'Lissy, it wasn't just a few things.' I feel myself flush slightly. 'It was everything. I told him I faked a grade on my CV.'

'You faked a grade on your CV? ' echoes Lissy in shock. 'Are you serious? '

'I told him about feeding Artemis's spider plant orange juice, I told him I find G-strings uncomfort­able...'

I tail off to see Lissy staring at me, aghast.

'Emma, ' she says at last. 'Have you ever heard the phrase " too much information? '"

'I didn't mean to say any of it! ' I retort defensively. 'It just kind of came out! I'd had three vodkas, and I thought we were about to die. Honestly, Lissy, you would have been the same. Everyone was screaming, people were praying, the plane was lurching around...'

'So you blab all your secrets to your boss.'

'But he wasn't my boss on the plane! ' I cry in frus­tration. 'He was just some stranger. I was never supposed to see him again! '

There's silence as Lissy takes this all in.

'You know, this is like what happened to my cousin, ' she says at last. 'She went to a party, and there, right in front of her, was the doctor who'd delivered her baby two months before.'

'Ooh.' I pull a face.

'Exactly! She said she was so embarrassed, she had to leave. I mean, he'd seen everything! She said somehow it didn't matter when she was in a hospital room, but when she saw him standing there, holding a glass of wine and chatting about house prices, it was a different matter.'

'Well, this is the same, ' I say hopelessly. 'He knows all my most intimate, personal details. But the differ­ence is, I can't just leave! I have to sit there and pretend to be a good employee. And he knows I'm not.'

'So what are you going to do? '

'I don't know! I suppose all I can do is try to avoid him.'

'How long is he over for? '

'The rest of the week, ' I say despairingly. 'The whole week.'

I pick up the zapper and turn on the television and for a few moments we stare silently at a load of dancing models in Gap jeans.

The ad finishes, and I look up again, to see Lissy looking at me curiously.

'What? ' I say. 'What is it? '

'Emma...' She clears her throat awkwardly. 'You don't have any secrets from me, do you? '

'From you? I say, slightly thrown.

A series of images flashes rapidly through my mind. That weird dream I once had about Lissy and me being lesbians. Those couple of times I've bought super­market carrots and sworn to her they were organic. The time when we were fifteen and she went to France and I got off with Mike Appleton whom she had a complete crush on, and never told her.

'No! Of course not! ' I say, and quickly take a sip of water. 'Why? Have you got any from me? '

Two dots of pink appear on Lissy's cheeks.

'No, of course I haven't! ' she says in an unnatural voice. 'I was just... wondering.' She reaches for the TV guide and starts to flip through it, avoiding my gaze. 'You know. Just out of interest.'

'Yes, well.' I give a shrug. 'So was I.'

Wow. Lissy's got a secret. I wonder what it—

Of course. Like she was really going over case notes with that guy. Does she think I'm a complete moron?

EIGHT

I arrive at work the next morning with exactly one aim Avoid Jack Harper.

It should be easy enough. The Panther Corporation is a huge company in a huge building. He'll be busy in other departments today. He'll probably be tied up in loads of meetings. He'll probably spend all day on the eleventh floor or something.

Even so, as I approach the big glass doors, my pace slows down and I find myself peering inside to see if he's about.

'All right, Emma? ' says Dave the security guard, coming to open the door for me. 'You look lost.'

'No! I'm fine, thanks! ' I give a relaxed little laugh, my eyes darting about the foyer.

I can't see him anywhere. OK. This is going to be fine. He probably isn't in yet. He probably isn't even coming in today. I throw my hair back confidently, walk briskly across the marble floor, and start to walk up the stairs.

'Jack! ' I suddenly hear as I'm nearing the first floor. 'Have you got a minute? '

'Sure.'

It's his voice. Where on earth—

I turn around, bewildered, and spot him on the landing above, talking to Graham Hillingdon. My heart gives a huge jump, and I clutch the brass banister. Shit. If he looked down now he'd see me.

Why does he have to stand right there"? Doesn't he ave some big important office he can go to?

Anyway. It doesn't matter. I'll just... take a different route. Very slowly I take a few steps back down the stairs, trying not to click my heels on the marble or move suddenly in case I attract his attention. Moira from Accounts walks past as I'm carefully stepping backwards and gives me an odd look, but I don't care. I have to get away.

As soon as I'm out of his view I feel myself relax, and walk more quickly back down to the foyer. I'll go by lift, instead. No problem. I step confidently across the floor, and I'm right in the middle of the huge expanse of marble when I freeze.

'That's right.' It's his voice again. And it seems to be getting nearer. Or am I just paranoid?

'... think I'll take a good look at..."

My head swivels around. Where is he now? Which direction is he going in?

'... really think that...'

Shit. He's coming down the stairs. There's nowhere to hide!

Without thinking twice I almost run to the glass doors, push them open, and hurry out of the building. I scuttle down the steps, run about a hundred yards down the road and stop, panting.

This is not going well.

I stand on the pavement for a few minutes in the morning sunshine, trying to estimate how long he will stay in the foyer, then cautiously approach the glass doors again. New tactic. I will walk to my office so mcredibly quickly, I can't catch anyone's eye. So it Won't matter if I pass Jack Harper or not. I will simply stride along without looking right or left and oh my God there he is, talking to Dave.

Without quite meaning to, I find myself running back down the steps and along the street again.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't stay out here on the street all day. I have to get to my desk. Come on, think. There must be a way round this. There must be —

Yes! I have a totally brilliant idea. This will defi­nitely work.

Three minutes later I approach the doors of the Panther building once more, totally engrossed in an article in The Times. I can't see anything around me. And no-one can see my face. This is the perfect disguise!

I push the door open with my shoulder, walk across the foyer and up the stairs, all without looking up. As I stride along the corridor towards the marketing department, I feel all cocooned and safe, buried in my Times. I should do this more often. No-one can get me in here. It's a really reassuring feeling, almost as though I'm invisible, or—

'Ow! Sorry! '

I've crashed into someone. Shit. I lower my paper, to see Paul staring at me, rubbing his head.

'Emma, what the fuck are you doing? '

'I was just reading The Times, ' I say feebly. 'I'm really sorry.'

'All right. Anyway, where the hell have you been? I want you to do teas and coffees at the departmental meeting. Ten o'clock.'

'What teas and coffees? ' I say, puzzled. They don't usually have any refreshments at the departmental meeting. In fact, usually only about six people turn up.

'We're having teas and coffees today, ' he says. 'And biscuits. All right? Oh, and Jack Harper's coming along.'

'What? ' I stare at him in consternation.

'Jack Harper's coming along, ' repeats Paul impa­tiently. 'So hurry up.'

'Do I have to go? ' I say before I can stop myself.

'What? ' Paul stares at me with a blank frown.

'I was just wondering if I... have to go, or whether...' I tail off feebly.

'Emma, if you can serve tea and coffee by telepathy, ' says Paul sarcastically, 'then you're more than welcome to stay at your desk. If not, would you most kindly get your arse in gear and up to the con­ference room. You know, for someone who wants to advance their career..." He shakes his head and stalks off.

How can this day have gone so wrong already and I haven't even sat down yet?

I dump my bag and jacket at my desk, hurry back down the corridors to the lifts, and press the Up button. A moment later, one pings in front of me, and the doors open.

No. No.

This is a bad dream.

Jack Harper is standing alone in the lift, in old jeans and a brown cashmere sweater.

Before I can stop myself I take a startled step back­wards. Jack Harper puts his mobile phone away, tilts his head to one side and gives me a quizzical look.

'Are you getting into the elevator? ' he says mildly.

I'm stuffed. What can I say? I can't say 'No, I just pressed the button for fun, haha! '

'Yes, ' I say at last and walk into the lift with stiff legs. 'Yes I am.'

The doors close, and we begin to travel upwards in silence. I've got a knot of tension in my stomach.

'Erm, Mr Harper, ' I say awkwardly, and he looks up. 'I just wanted to apologize for my... for the, urn, shirking episode the other day. It won't happen again.'

'You have drinkable coffee now, ' says Jack Harper raising his eyebrows. 'So you shouldn't need to go to Starbucks, at any rate.'

'I know. I'm really sorry, ' I say, my face hot. 'And may I assure you, that was the very last time I will ever do such a thing.' I clear my throat. 'I am fully committed to the Panther Corporation, and I look forward to serving this company as best as I can, giving one hundred per cent, every day, now and in the future.'

I almost want to add 'Amen'.

'Really.' Jack looks at me, his mouth twitching. 'That's... great.' He thinks for a moment. 'Emma, can you keep a secret? '

'Yes, ' I say apprehensively. 'What is it? '

Jack leans close and whispers, 'I used to play hookey too.'

'What? ' I stare at him.

'In my first job, ' he continues in his normal voice. 'I had a friend I used to hang out with. We had a code, too.' His eyes twinkle. 'One of us would ask the other to bring him the Leopold file.'

'What was the Leopold file? '

'It didn't exist.' He grins. 'It was just an excuse to get away from our desks.'

'Oh. Oh right! '

Suddenly I feel a bit better.

Jack Harper used to skive? I would have thought he was too busy being a brilliant creative dynamic genius, or whatever he is.

The lift stops at floor 3 and the doors open, but no-one gets in.

'So, your colleagues seemed a very pleasant lot, ' says Jack as we start travelling up again. 'A very friendly, industrious team. Are they like that all the time? '

'Absolutely! ' I say at once. 'We enjoy cooperating with one another, in an integrated, team-based.. um operational..." I'm trying to think of another long word when I make the mistake of catching his eye.

He knows this is bullshit, doesn't he?

Oh God. What is the point?

'OK.' I lean against the lift wall. 'In real life, we don't behave anything like that. Paul usually shouts at me six times a day, and Nick and Artemis hate each other, and we don't usually sit around discussing literature. We were all faking it.'

'You amaze me.' His mouth twitches. 'The atmos­phere in the admin department also seemed very false. My suspicions were aroused when two employees spontaneously started singing the Panther Corporation song. I didn't even know there was a Panther Corporation song.'

'Neither did I, ' I say in surprise. 'Is it any good? '

'What do you think? ' He raises his eyebrows comically and I give a little giggle.

It's bizarre, but the atmosphere between us isn't remotely awkward any more. In fact, it almost feels like we're old friends or something.

'How about this Corporate Family Day? ' he says. 'Looking forward to it? '

'Like having teeth pulled out, ' I say bluntly.

'I got that vibe.' He nods, looking amused. 'And what...'He hesitates. 'What do people think about me? ' He casually rumples his hair. 'You don't have to answer if you don't want to.'

'No, everyone likes you! ' I think for a few moments. 'Although... some people think your friend is creepy.'

'Who, Sven? ' Jack stares at me for a minute, then throws back his head and laughs. 'I can assure you, Sven is one of my oldest, closest friends, and he's not in the least bit creepy. In fact —'

He breaks off as the lift doors ping. We both snap back into impassive expressions and move slightly away from each other. The doors open, and my stomach gives a lurch.

Connor is standing on the other side.

As he sees Jack Harper his face lights up as though he can't believe his luck.

'Hi there! ' I say, trying to sound natural.

'Hi, ' he says, his eyes shining with excitement, and walks into the lift.

'Hello, ' says Jack pleasantly. 'Which floor would you like? '

'Nine, please.' Connor swallows. 'Mr Harper, may I quickly introduce myself? ' He eagerly holds out his hand. 'Connor Martin from Research. You're coming to visit our department later on today.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Connor, ' says Jack kindly. 'Research is vital for a company like ours.'

'You're so right! ' says Connor, looking thrilled. 'In fact, I'm looking forward to discussing with you the latest research findings on Panther Sportswear. We've come up with some very fascinating results involving customer preferences on fabric thickness. You'll be amazed! '

'I'm... sure I will, ' says Jack. 'I look forward to it.'

Connor gives me an excited grin.

'You've already met Emma Corrigan from our marketing department? ' he says.

'Yes, we've met.' Jack's eyes gleam at me.

We travel for a few seconds in an awkward silence.

This is weird.

No. It's not weird. It's fine.

'How are we doing for time? ' says Connor. He glances at his watch and in slight horror, I see Jack's eyes falling on it.

Oh God.

'... I gave him a really nice watch, but he insists on wearing this orange digital thing..."

'Wait a minute! ' says Jack, dawn breaking over his face. He stares at Connor as through seeing him for the first time. 'Wait a minute. You're Ken.'

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh—

'It's Connor, ' says Connor puzzledly. 'Connor

Martin.'

I'm sorry! ' Jack hits his head with his fist. 'Connor. Of course. And you two -' he gestures to me '- are an

item? '

Connor looks uncomfortable.

'I can assure you, sir, that at work our relationship is strictly professional. However, in a private context, Emma and I are... yes, having a personal relation­ship.'

'That's wonderful! ' says Jack encouragingly, and Connor beams, like a flower blossoming in the sun.

'In fact, ' he adds proudly, 'Emma and I have just decided to move in together.'

'Is that so? ' Jack shoots me a look of genuine surprise. 'That's... great news. When did you make that decision? '

'Just a couple of days ago, ' says Connor. 'At the airport.'

'At the airport, ' echoes Jack Harper after a short silence. 'Very interesting.'

I can't look at Jack Harper. I'm staring desperately at the floor. Why can't this bloody lift go quicker?

'Well, I'm sure you'll be very happy together, ' Jack Harper says to Connor. ‘You seem very compatible.' 'Oh we are! ' says Connor at once. 'We both love jazz, for a start.'

'Is that so? ' says Jack thoughtfully. 'You know, I can't think of anything nicer in the world than a shared We of jazz.'

He's taking the piss. This is unbearable.

'Really? ' says Connor eagerly.

'Absolutely.' Jack nods. 'I'd say jazz, and... Woody Allen films.'

'We love Woody Allen films! ' says Connor in amazed delight. 'Don't we, Emma! '

'Yes, ' I say a little hoarsely. 'Yes, we do.'

'Now Connor, tell me, ' says Jack in confidential tones. 'Did you ever find Emma's..."

If he says 'G spot' I will die. I will die. I will die.

'... presence here distracting? Because I can imagine I would! ' Jack gives Connor a friendly smile, but Connor doesn't smile back.

'As I said, sir, ' he says, a little stiffly, 'Emma and I operate on a strictly professional basis whilst at work. We would never dream of abusing the company's time for our own... ends.' He flushes. 'I mean, by ends, I don't mean... I meant...'

'I'm glad to hear it, ' says Jack, looking amused.

God, why does Connor have to be such a goody-goody?

The lift pings, and I feel relief drain over me. Thank God, at last I can escape—

'Looks like we're all going to the same place, ' says Jack Harper with a grin. 'Connor, why don't you lead the way? '

I can't cope with this. I just can't cope. As I pour out cups of tea and coffee for members of the marketing department, I'm outwardly calm, smiling at everyone and even chatting pleasantly. But inside I'm all un­settled and confused. I don't want to admit it to myself, but seeing Connor through Jack Harper's eyes has thrown me.

I love Connor, I tell myself over and over. I didn't mean any of what I said on the plane. I love him. I run my eyes over his face, trying to reassure myself. There's no doubt about it. Connor is good-looking by any standards. He glows with good health. His hair is shiny and his eyes are blue and he's got a gorgeous dimple when he smiles.

Jack Harper, on the other hand, looks kind of weary and dishevelled. He's got shadows under his eyes and his hair is all over the place. And there's a hole in his jeans.

But even so. It's as if he's some kind of magnet. I'm sitting here, my attention firmly on the tea trolley, and yet somehow I can't keep my eyes off him.

It's because of the plane, I keep telling myself. It's just because we were in a traumatic situation together; that's why. No other reason.

'We need more lateral thinking, people, ' Paul is say­ing. 'The Panther Bar is simply not performing as it should. Connor, you have the latest research statistics? '

Connor stands up, and I feel a flip of apprehension on his behalf. I can tell he's really nervous from the way he keeps fiddling with his cuffs.

'That's right, Paul.' He picks up a clipboard and clears his throat. 'In our latest survey, 1, 000 teenagers were questioned on aspects of the Panther Bar. Unfortunately, the results were inconclusive.'

He presses his remote control. A graph appears on the screen behind him, and we all stare at it obediently.

'Seventy-four per cent of 10-14-year-olds felt the texture could be more chewy, ' says Connor earnestly. 'However, 67 per cent of 15-18-year-olds felt the texture could be more crunchy, while 22 per cent felt it could be less crunchy...'

I glance over Artemis's shoulder and see she's written 'Chewy/crunchy?? ' on her notepad.

Connor presses the remote control again, and another graph appears.

'Now, 46 per cent of 10-14-year-olds felt the flavour was too tangy. However, 33 per cent of 15-18-year-olds felt it was not tangy enough, while..."

Oh God. I know it's Connor. And I love him and everything. But can't he make this sound a bit more interesting?

I glance over to see how Jack Harper is taking it and he raises his eyebrows at me. Immediately I flush, feeling disloyal.

He'll think I was laughing at Connor. Which I wasn't. I wasn't.

'And 90 per cent of female teenagers would prefer the calorie content to be reduced, ' Connor concludes. 'But the same proportion would also like to see a thicker chocolate coating.' He gives a helpless shrug.

'They don't know what the hell they want, ' says someone.

'We polled a broad cross-section of teenagers, ' says Connor, 'including Caucasians, Afro-Caribbeans, Asians, and... er...' he peers at the paper. 'Jedi knights.'

'Teenagers! ' says Artemis, rolling her eyes.

'Briefly remind us of our target market, Connor, ' says Paul with a frown.

'Our target market...' Connor consults another clip­board, 'is aged 10-18, in full or part time education. He/she drinks Panther Cola four times a week, eats burgers three times a week, visits the cinema twice a week, reads magazines and comics but not books, is most likely to agree with the lifestyle statement " It's more important to be cool than richi"...' he looks up. 'Shall I go on? '

'Does he/she eat toast for breakfast? ' says somebody thoughtfully. 'Or cereal? '

'I... I'm not sure, ' says Connor, riffling quickly through his pages. 'We could do some more research...'

'I think we get the picture, ' says Paul. 'Does anyone have any thoughts on this? '

All this time, I've been plucking up courage to speak, and now I take a deep breath.

'You know, my grandpa really likes Panther Bars! ' I say. Everyone swivels in their chairs to look at me, and I feel my face grow hot.

'What relevance does that have? ' says Paul with a frown.

'I just thought I could..." I swallow. 'I could maybe ask him what he thinks

'With all due respect, Emma, ' says Connor, with a smile which verges on patronizing, 'your grandfather is hardly in our target demographic! '

'Unless he started very young, ' quips Artemis.

I flush, feeling stupid, and pretend to be re­organizing the teabags.

To be honest, I feel a bit hurt. Why did Connor have to say that? I know he wants to be all professional and proper when we're at work. But that's not the same as being mean, is it? I'd always stick up for him.

'My own view, ' Artemis is saying, 'is that if the Panther Bar isn't performing, we should axe it. It's quite obviously a problem child.'

I look up in slight dismay. They can't axe the Panther Bar! What will Grandpa take to his bowling tournaments?

'Surely a fully cost-based, customer-oriented re-branding—' begins somebody.

'I disagree.' Artemis leans forward. 'If we're going to maximise our concept innovation in a functional and logistical way, then surely we need to focus on our strategic competencies—'

'Excuse me, ' says Jack Harper, lifting a hand. It's the first time he's spoken, and everyone turns to look There's a prickle of anticipation in the air, and Artemis glows smugly. 'Yes, Mr Harper? ' she says.

'I have no idea what you're talking about, ' he says.

The whole room reverberates in shock, and I give a snort of laughter without quite meaning to.

'As you know, I've been out of the business arena for a while.' He smiles. 'Could you please translate what you just said into standard English? '

'Oh, ' says Artemis, looking discomfited. 'Well, I was simply saying, that from a strategic point of view, notwithstanding our corporate vision..." she tails off at his expression.

'Try again, ' he says kindly. 'Without using the word strategic'

'Oh, ' says Artemis again, and rubs her nose. 'Well, I was just saying that... we should... concentrate on... on what we do well.'

'Ah! ' Jack Harper's eyes gleam. 'Now I understand. Please, carry on.'

He glances at me, rolls his eyes and grins, and I can't help giving a tiny gr