Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
I once read an article called “Make Things Go Your Way” that said if a day doesn’t turn out as you intended, you should go back and chart the differences between your goals and your results, and this will help you learn from your mistakes.
So…OK. Let’s just chart exactly how much this day has diverged from the original plan I had this morning.
Goal: Look like sexy and sophisticated woman in beautiful, flattering dress.
Result: Look like Heidi/Munchkin extra in lurid puffy nylon sleeves.
Goal: Make secret assignation with Jack.
Result: Make secret assignation with Jack, then fail to turn up.
Goal: Have fantastic sex with Jack in romantic location.
Result: Have peanut-barbecued chicken drumstick on picnic rug.
Overall Goal: Euphoria.
Overall Result: Complete misery.
All I can do is dumbly push my food around my plate, telling myself this can’t last forever.
Dad and Nev have made about a million jokes about Don’t Mention Connor.
Kerry has shown me her new Swiss watch, which cost four thousand pounds, and boasted about how her company is expanding yet again.
And now she’s telling us how she played golf with the chief executive of some huge furniture conglomerate last week and he tried to head-hunt her.
“They all try it on,” she says, taking a huge bite of chicken drumstick. “But I say to them, if I needed a job…” She trails off. “Did you want something?”
“Hi there,” comes a dry, familiar voice.
I raise my head, blinking in the light.
It’s Jack. Standing there against the blue sky in his cowboy outfit. He smiles in an almost imperceptible way, and I feel my heart lift. He’s come to get me. I should have known he would. “Hi!” I say, half dazedly. “Everyone, this is—”
“My name’s Jack,” he cuts across me. “I’m a friend of Emma’s. Emma…” He looks at me, his face giving nothing away. “I’m afraid you’re needed.”
“Oh, dear!” I say with a whoosh of relief. “Oh, well, never mind. These things happen…”
“That’s a shame!” says Mum. “Can’t you at least stay for a quick drink? Jack, you’re welcome to join us, have a chicken drumstick or some quiche…”
“We have to go,” I say hurriedly. “Don’t we, Jack?”
“I’m afraid we do,” he says, and holds out a hand to pull me up.
“Sorry, everyone,” I say.
“We don’t mind!” says Kerry with the same sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure you’ve some vital job to do, Emma. In fact, I expect the whole event would collapse without you!”
Jack stops. Very slowly, he turns around. “Let me guess,” he says. “You must be…Kerry.”
“Yes!” she says in surprise. “That’s right!”
“And Mum…Dad…” He surveys the faces. “And you have to be…Nev?”
“Spot on!” says Nev with a chortle.
“Very good!” says Mum with a laugh. “Emma must have told you a bit about us!”
“Oh…she has,” agrees Jack, looking around the picnic rug again in fascination. “You know…there might be time for that drink after all.”
What? What did he say?
“Good!” says Mum. “It’s always nice to meet friends of Emma’s!”
I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. I sit down beside him, trying to think of a plan to get him away.
“So, you work for this company, Jack?” says Dad, pouring him a glass of wine.
“In a way,” says Jack after a pause. “I’ve recently taken what you might call…a career break.”
I can see Kerry and Nev exchanging looks.
“So you’re…between jobs?” says Mum tactfully. “What a shame. Still, I’m sure something will come up…”
Oh, God. She has no idea who he is. None of my family has any idea who Jack is.
I’m not at all sure I like this. “Er, the grounds are really beautiful!” I exclaim. “Shall we have a little walk? Mum?”
We can walk around the gardens…and Jack and I can get “lost.” Perfect.
“We’re about to eat, Emma!” says Mum in surprise. “By the way, I saw Danny Nussbaum the other day in the post office,” she adds, slicing some tomatoes. “He asked after you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jack’s eyes brightening.
“Gosh!” I say, my cheeks growing hot. “Danny Nussbaum! I haven’t thought about him for…ages.”
“Danny and Emma used to step out together,” Mum explains to Jack with a fond smile. “Such a nice boy. Very bookish. He and Emma used to study together in her bedroom, all afternoon!”
I cannot look at Jack. I cannot.
“You know…Ben-Hur’s a fine film,” Jack suddenly says. “A very fine film.” He looks at Mum. “Don’t you think?”
I am going to kill him.
“Er, yes!” says Mum in puzzlement. “Yes, I’ve always liked Ben-Hur…” She cuts Jack a huge chunk of quiche and adds a slice of tomato. “So, Jack,” she says sympathetically as she hands him a paper plate. “Are you getting by financially?”
“I’m…doing OK,” Jack replies gravely.
Mum looks at him for a moment, then she rummages in the picnic basket and produces another Sainsbury’s quiche, still in its box.
“Take this,” she says, pressing it on him. “And some tomatoes. They’ll tide you over.”
“Oh, no,” says Jack at once. “Really, I couldn’t—”
“I won’t take no for an answer! I insist!”
“Well, that’s…truly kind.” Jack puts the quiche down beside him, looking touched.
“You want some free career advice, Jack?” says Kerry, munching a piece of chicken.
I feel a sudden dread. If she starts demonstrating the successful woman walk, that’s it. I’m leaving.
“Now, you want to listen to Kerry!” puts in Dad with pride. “She’s our star! She has her own company!”
“Is that so?” says Jack politely.
“So!” I chime in, trying to steer the conversation. “Nev! How much did you say you paid for your new car again?”
But Nev isn’t even listening. He’s pouring himself another drink.
“Office furniture supply,” says Kerry with a complacent smile. “Started from scratch. Now we have forty staff and a turnover of just over two million. And you know what my secret is?”
“I…have no idea,” says Jack.
Kerry leans forward and fixes him with her blue eyes. “Golf.”
“Golf!” says Jack after a pause.
“Business is all about networking,” says Kerry.
“It’s all about contacts. I’m telling you, Jack, I’ve met most of the top businesspeople in the country on the golf course.
Take any company. Take this company.” She spreads her arm around the scene.
“I know the top guy here. I could call him up tomorrow if I wanted to!”
I’m frozen in horror.
“Really?” says Jack, sounding riveted. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes.” She leans forward confidentially. “And I mean, the top guy.”
“The top guy,” echoes Jack. “I’m…impressed.”
“Perhaps Kerry could put in a good word for you, Jack!” exclaims Mum in sudden inspiration. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you, Kerry love?”
I would burst into hysterical laughter if the situation weren’t so completely and utterly hideous.
“I guess I’ll have to take up golf without delay,” says Jack. “Meet the right people.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “What do you think, Emma?”
“I…I…” I can barely talk. I am beyond embarrassment. I just want to disappear into the rug and never be seen again.
“Mr. Harper?” A voice suddenly interrupts and I breathe a sigh of relief. We all look up to see Cyril bending awkwardly down to Jack.
“I’m extremely sorry to interrupt, sir,” he says, glancing around at my family as though trying to discern any reason at all why Jack Harper might be having a picnic with us. “But Malcolm St. John is here and would like a very brief word…”
“Of course,” says Jack, and smiles politely at Mum. “If you could just excuse me a moment.”
As he carefully balances his glass on his plate and gets to his feet, the whole family exchanges confused glances.
“Giving him a second chance, then!” calls out Dad jocularly to Cyril.
“I’m sorry?” says Cyril, taking a couple of steps toward us.
“That chap Jack,” says Dad, gesturing to Jack, who’s talking to a guy dressed in a navy blazer. “You’re thinking of taking him on again, are you?”
Cyril looks stiffly from Dad to me and back again.
“It’s…OK, Cyril!” I call lightly. “Dad, shut up, OK?” I mutter. “He owns the company.”
“What?” Everyone turns to face me.
“He owns the company,” I say, my face hot. “So just…don’t make any jokes about him.”
“The man in the jester’s suit owns the company?” says Mum, looking in surprise at Cyril.
“No! Jack does! Or at least, some great big chunk of it…” They’re all still sitting there, uncomprehending. “Jack’s one of the founders of the Panther Corporation!” I hiss in frustration. “He was just trying to be modest!”
“Are you saying that guy is…Jack Harper?” says Nev in disbelief.
“Yes!”
There’s a flabbergasted silence. As I look around, I see that a piece of chicken drumstick has fallen out of Kerry’s mouth.
“Jack Harper…the multimillionaire,” says Dad, just to make sure.
“Multimillionaire?” Mum looks totally confused. “So…does he still want the quiche?”
“Of course he doesn’t want the quiche!” says Dad testily. “What would he want a quiche for? He can buy a million bloody quiches!”
Mum’s eyes are darting around the picnic rug in slight agitation.
“Quick!” she says suddenly. “Put the crisps into a bowl. There’s one in the hamper—”
“They’re fine as they are—” I begin.
“Millionaires don’t eat crisps from the packet!” She plops the crisps in a plastic bowl and hastily starts straightening the rug. “Brian! Crumbs on your beard!”
“So, how the hell do you know Jack Harper?” says Nev.
“I…I just know him.” I color a little. “We’ve worked together and stuff, and he’s kind of become a…a friend. But listen, don’t do anything differently,” I say. Jack has just shaken the hand of the blazer guy and is coming back toward the picnic rug. “Just act the way you were before…”
Oh, God. Why am I even bothering? As Jack approaches, my entire family is sitting bolt upright, awestruck.
“Hi!” I say as naturally as possible, then glare around at them.
“So…Jack!” says Dad, sounding self-conscious. “Have another drink! Is this wine all right for you? Because we can easily nip to the wine shop, get something with a proper vintage—”
“It’s great, thanks,” says Jack, looking surprised.