Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“No! It’s just…” I begin, a little hot under his gaze.
“You said you were going to axe Panther Bars, so I…I thought I’d give him and his friends some money off, and they could all stock up.
I tried to tell you at that big meeting, my grandfather loves Panther Bars!
And so do all his friends! If you ask me, you should be marketing Panther Bars at them, not teenagers! ”
There’s silence. Paul looks astounded. “So, why does this older generation like Panther Bars so much, Emma? Do you know?” He sounds genuinely fascinated.
“Yes, of course I know!”
“It’s the gray pound,” puts in Nick. “Demographic shifts in the pensionable population are accounting for—”
“No, it’s not!” I say impatiently. “It’s because…because…” Oh, God, Grandpa will absolutely kill me for saying this. “It’s because…they don’t pull out their false teeth.”
Paul looks staggered for an instant. Then he throws back his head and roars with laughter. “False teeth,” he says, wiping his eyes. “That is sheer, bloody genius, Emma. False teeth!”
“But the tropical flavors just don’t work,” I add. “If you ask me, that’s why the product’s in trouble.”
“Is that so?”
“Would you put papaya on your porridge?”
“Probably not,” says Paul, starting to laugh again.
As I stand there, watching him, I have the strangest feeling. Like something’s building up inside me, as though I’m about to—“So, can I have a promotion?”
“What?” Paul stops laughing, and there’s silence.
Did I really just say that? Out loud?
“Can I have a promotion?” My voice is trembling, but I hold firm. “You said if I created my own opportunities, I could have a promotion. That’s what you said. Isn’t this creating my own opportunities?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Artemis pulling an amused face at Caroline.
Paul sighs. “Emma—”
His old, patronizing tone has come back. I can’t bear it.
“I am not the departmental secretary, Paul!” I exclaim. “Just because you want to cut your staff budget, I’ve ended up doing all the menial jobs! But I’ve done tasks at the same level as Artemis, and I know I could do more. I know I could be an asset. If you give me the chance, I’ll show you!”
Paul looks at me for a few moments, blinking, saying nothing.
“You know, Emma Corrigan,” he says at last. “You are one of the most…one of the most surprising people I’ve ever known.” He pauses. “For your information, I’ve hired a new departmental secretary. Her name’s Amanda, and she starts in a week.”
“Oh,” I say, thrown. “Oh, I see.”
But even so, I’m not going to give up. I screw myself up with determination. “So…what about me?”
There’s silence around the entire office. Everyone’s waiting to see what he’ll say. As I meet Paul’s eyes, there’s a sudden warmth in them. Friendliness, even.
“Come and see me later. And we’ll have a chat.” He shakes his head in mock exasperation. “Now, is that it?”
“No,” I hear myself saying, my heart beating even more furiously. “There’s more. Paul, I broke your World Cup mug.”
“What?” He looks completely gobsmacked.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you another one.
” I look around the silent, gawking office.
“And it was me who jammed the copier that time. In fact…all the times. And that bottom…” Amid agog faces, I walk to the pin board and rip down the photocopied G-stringed bottom.
“That’s mine, and I don’t want it up there anymore.
” I swivel around. “And, Artemis, about your spider plant.”
“What?” she says suspiciously.
I survey her, in her Burberry raincoat and her designer spectacles and her smug, I’m-better-than-you face.
OK, let’s not get carried away.
“I…can’t think what’s wrong with it.” I smile. “Have a good meeting.”
—
As I emerge from Paul’s office later that afternoon, I feel dizzy with exhilaration. It’s finally happened. I’m going to be promoted. I’m actually going to be a marketing executive! Paul was really nice. He said maybe he had overlooked my contributions in the past, and that I deserved it.
I don’t quite know what’s happened to me.
It’s not just the job—it’s like I’ve become a whole new person.
So what if I broke Paul’s mug? Who cares?
So what if everyone knows how much I weigh?
Who cares? Good-bye, old crap Emma, who hides her Oxfam bags under her desk.
Hello, new, confident Emma, who proudly hangs them on her chair.
I reach my desk and immediately dial home.
“Mum? It’s Emma. Guess what!” I can’t resist glancing at Artemis. “I’m being promoted! I’m going to be a marketing executive!”
Mum’s cries of delight are so piercing, they nearly deafen me. Then she relays the news to Grandpa, who sends his congratulations back, and I just hang on the end of the phone and beam happily at it.
“And what about Jack?” says Mum at last, after we’ve planned a celebratory dinner in London. “Did you have a talk with him?”
“Yes, I did. But…” The ebullience seeps out of my voice. “I guess we just weren’t meant for each other.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Mum’s silent for a moment. “The truth is, some relationships are supposed to last forever, and some are only supposed to last a few days. That’s the way life is.”
“I know,” I sigh. “It’s just I was kind of hoping…”
“Of course you were, love.” Mum sounds more sympathetic than I’ve ever heard her. “Oh, I feel for you. You know, I once had a relationship that lasted only forty-eight hours. In Paris.”
“Paris!” I say, impressed.
“It was an affair I’ll never forget.”
“Really?”
I’m quite surprised by this. I always thought she and Dad were childhood sweethearts. Did she go to France on a school exchange or something?
“I’d never experienced physical pleasure like it,” Mum is saying. “And I knew it could never last, but that made it all the more poignant…” She trails off, sounding quite overcome.
“So, was this before you met Dad?”
There’s silence.
“Of course,” says Mum at last, and clears her throat. “Of course it was! Incidentally, darling, I wouldn’t mention any of this to Daddy, if I were you.”
“Why not?” I say in suspicion.
“Well!” says Mum, sounding a bit flustered. “Er, you know how he is about the French.”
As I put down the phone, I’m actually quite shocked. I always thought Mum and Dad…At least, I never…
Well. It just goes to show.
“Emma?”
I look up happily, ready to be congratulated again—and jump about three inches off my chair. Sven is standing right in front of my desk. What’s he doing here?
“I need to see you,” he says without smiling, and beckons with his finger. “Now.”
—
As we walk down the corridor, everyone gives us curious glances. And I try to look all calm and relaxed, like “Oh, Sven and I often have little chats together.” But inside, I’m getting more and more nervous. Why does Sven want to see me?
We reach an empty meeting room next to the admin. department, and Sven ushers me inside. He turns, his face set like granite.
It’s me and the hit man. Alone.
“Emma.”
It’s almost a shock hearing my name on his lips, in light of the fact that I’ve hardly ever heard him utter a word.
“I suppose Jack’s sent you,” I say, forcing myself to sound confident. “Well, if he has—”
“Jack hasn’t sent me. I wanted to talk to you.” He walks to the window in silence, then turns around. “I heard that you and Jack had a row.”
OK, this is freaky. Since when did I start discussing my love life with Sven?
“What’s this got to do with you? What’s your role in this place, anyway?” I jut my chin out. “Who are you?”
Sven seems taken aback by the question. “I’m…someone who tries to be there for Jack,” he says.
“You’d take a bullet for him?” I say flippantly.
“I meant…emotionally.”
“Emotionally?” I echo, feeling a sudden urge to laugh. Does Mr. Titanium Briefcase know what emotions are? But to my surprise, Sven looks utterly serious.
“I’ve known Jack a long time. Pete Laidler, too.” He stops, as though that explained everything.
“Right.” I shrug.
“I’ve never known two people as close as those two guys. When Pete went, a lot of us were worried about Jack.”
Half of me wants to say, “Is there a point to all this?” The other half is getting pretty curious.
“What you should know…” Sven searches for words. “…is that Jack’s never really shared himself with any woman. With anyone. Except Pete.”
“Yeah, well.” I can feel an old hurt rising, and look away. This day was going so well until Sven came along. “That’s not my fault.”
“You may think Jack’s kept himself distant.
But for the rest of us who know him…it’s been extraordinary.
The way he’s been since meeting you.” Sven’s pale blue eyes bore into mine.
“He changed his plans for you. These meetings he’s been having were supposed to be back in the States.
People have been flying around the globe—just because of you. Are you aware of that?”
Why is he telling me all this? It’s like he’s digging around in my feelings, trying to find my weakness.
“Whatever. It’s irrelevant now.” I fold my arms defensively around my body. “Look…why are you here?”
“There aren’t many people who know the real Jack,” says Sven. “I guess I thought you should hear from someone who does.”
“Well, now I have. Thanks very much.”
I turn sharply and head toward the door. Sven’s voice follows me. “The thing is, he’s worth it.”
Slowly, I turn back. “What?”
Sven takes a few paces toward me. The afternoon sun’s shining through the blinds onto his hair. He’s actually quite nice-looking, I realize. I’m starting to see why he and Jack might be friends.
“Emma, Jack’s never going to be a heart-on-his-sleeve guy. He’s never going to open up as much as you’d like. That’s just the way he is.” Sven pauses. “As I said, he’s worth it.”
His face is so fixed and serious, I feel suddenly touched.
“Thanks for trying,” I say at last. “But…it doesn’t work like that.”