'Emma, I want to make this up to you,' he says, as the woman hurries away. 'Could we have

lunch? A drink? A… a smoothie?' His face crinkles into a tiny smile, but I don't smile back.

I'm too confused to smile. I can feel part of me starting to unbend; I can feel part of me

starting to believe him. Wanting to forgive him. But my mind is still jumbled up. Things are

still wrong somewhere.

'I don't know,' I say, rubbing my nose.

'Things were going so well, before I had to go and fuck it up.'

'Were they?' I say.

'Weren't they?' Jack hesitates, gazing at me over the heather. 'I kind of thought they were.'

My mind is buzzing. There are things I need to say. There are things I need to get into the

open. A thought crystallizes in my head.

'Jack… what were you doing in Scotland? When we first met.'

At once, Jack's expression changes. His face closes up and he looks away.

'Emma, I'm afraid I can't tell you that.'

'Why not?' I say, trying to sound light.

'It's… complicated.'

'OK, then.' I think for a moment. 'Where did you go rushing off to that night with Sven? When

you had to cut our date short.'

Jack sighs.

'Emma-'

'How about the night you had all those calls? What were those about?'

This time, Jack doesn't even bother answering.

'I see.' I push my hair back, trying to stay calm. 'Jack, did it ever occur to you that in all our

time together, you hardly told me anything about yourself?'

'I… guess I'm a private person,' says Jack. 'Is it such a big deal?'

'It's quite a big deal to me. I shared everything with you. Like you said. All my thoughts, all

my worries, everything. And you shared nothing with me.'

'That's not true-' He steps forward, still holding the cumbersome basket, and several sprigs

of heather fall to the ground.

'Practically nothing, then.' I close my eyes briefly, trying to sort my thoughts. 'Jack,

relationships are all about trust and equality. If one person shares, then the other person

should share, too. I mean, you didn't even tell me you were going to be on television.'

'It was just a dumb interview, for Chrissakes!' A girl with six shopping bags knocks yet more

heather out of Jack's basket, and in frustration he dumps it on a passing motorcycle courier's

pannier. 'Emma, you're over-reacting.'

'I told you all my secrets,' I say stubbornly. 'You didn't tell me any of yours.'

Jack gives a sigh.

'With all due respect, Emma, I think it's a little different-'

'What?' I stare at him in shock. 'Why… why should it be any different?'

'You have to understand. I have things in my life which are very sensitive… complicated…

very important…'

'And I don't?' My voice bursts from me like a rocket. 'You think my secrets are less important

than yours? You think I'm less hurt by you blurting them out on television?' I'm shaking all

over, with fury, with disappointment. 'I suppose that's because you're so huge and important

and I'm — what am I, again, Jack?' I can feel my eyes glittering with tears. 'A nothing-special

girl? An "ordinary, nothing-special girl"?'

Jack winces, and I can see I've hit home. He closes his eyes and for a long time I think he isn't

going to speak.

'I didn't mean to use those words,' he says, rubbing his forehead. 'The minute I said them, I

wished I could take them back. I was… I was trying to evoke something very different from

that… a kind of image He looks up. 'Emma, you have to know I didn't mean-'

'I'm going to ask you again!' I say, my heart pounding. 'What were you doing in Scotland?'

There's silence. As I meet Jack's eyes, I know he's not going to tell me. He knows this is

important to me and he's still not going to tell me.

'Fine,' I say, my voice lurching slightly. 'That's fine. I'm obviously not as important as you.

I'm just some amusing girl who provides you with entertainment on flights and gives you

ideas for your business.'

'Emma-'

'The thing is, Jack, that's not a real relationship. A real relationship is two-way. A real

relationship is based on equality. And trust.' I swallow the lump in my throat. 'So why don't

you just go and be with someone on your level, who you can share your precious secrets

with? Because you obviously can't share them with me.'

I turn sharply before he can say anything else, and stalk away, two tears rolling down my

cheeks, trampling the lucky heather underfoot.

I don't get home until much later that evening. But I'm still smarting from our argument. I

have a throbbing headache, and I feel on the verge of tears.

I open the door of the flat to find Lissy and Jemima in a full-scale argument about animal

rights.

'The mink like being made into coats-' Jemima is saying as I push open the door to the living

room. She breaks off and looks up. 'Emma! Are you all right?'

'No.' I sink down onto the sofa and wrap myself up in the chenille throw which Lissy's mum

gave her for Christmas. 'I had a huge row with Jack.'

'With Jack?'

'You saw him?'

'He came to… well, to apologize, I guess.'

Lissy and Jemima exchange looks.

'What happened?' says Lissy, hugging her knees. 'What did he say?'

I'm silent for a few seconds, trying to remember exactly what he did say. It's all a bit jumbled

up in my head now.

'He said… he didn't ever mean to use me,' I say at last. 'He said I got in his thoughts. He said

he'd fire everyone in the company who teased me.' I can't help giving a half-giggle.

'Really?' says Lissy. 'Gosh. That's quite romant-' She coughs, and pulls an apologetic face.

'Sorry.'

'He said he was really sorry for what happened, and he didn't mean to say all that stuff on the

TV, and that our romance was… Anyway. He said a lot of things. But then he said…' My

heart beats with fresh indignation. 'He said his secrets were more important than mine.'

There's a huge gasp of outrage.

'No!' says Lissy.

'Bastard!' says Jemima. 'What secrets?'

'I asked him about Scotland. And rushing off from the date.' I meet Lissy's eyes. 'And all those

things he would never talk to me about.'

'And what did he say?' says Lissy.

'He wouldn't tell me.' I feel another sting of humiliation. 'He said it was too "sensitive and

complicated".'

'Sensitive and complicated?' Jemima is staring at me, galvanized. 'Jack has a sensitive and

complicated secret? You never mentioned this before! Emma, this is totally perfect. You find

out what it is — and then you expose it!'

I stare at her, my heart beating hard. God, she's right. I could do it. I could get back at Jack. I

could make him hurt like I've been hurt.

'But I have no idea what it is,' I say at last.

'You can find out!' says Jemima. 'That's easy enough. The point is, you know he's hiding

something.'

'There's definitely some kind of mystery,' says Lissy thoughtfully. 'He has all these phone

calls he won't talk about, he rushes off mysteriously from your date-'

'He rushed off mysteriously?' says Jemima avidly. 'Where? Did he say anything? Did you

overhear anything?'

'No!' I say, flushing slightly. 'Of course not. I don't… I would never eavesdrop on people!'

Jemima gives me a close look.

'Don't give me that. Yes you did. You did hear something. Come on, Emma. What was it?'

My mind flashes back to that evening. Sitting on the bench, sipping the pink cocktail. The

breeze is blowing on my face, Jack and Sven are talking behind me in low voices…

'It was nothing much,' I say reluctantly. 'I just heard him say something about having to