Can you keep a secret_ - Sophie Kinsella [24]
'Very wise,' says Jack Harper, nodding. His gaze runs over my desk and alights with sudden interest on my polystyrene cup. He looks up and meets my eye. 'How's the coffee?' he asks pleasantly. 'Tasty?'
Like a tape recording in my head, I suddenly hear my own stupid voice, prattling on.
'The coffee at work is the most disgusting stuff you've ever drunk, absolute poison …'
'It's great!' I say. 'Really … delicious!'
'I'm very glad to hear it.' There's a spark of amusement in his eyes, and I feel myself redden.
He remembers. Fuck. He remembers.
'And this is Artemis Harrison,' says Paul. 'One of our brightest young marketing executives.'
'Artemis,' says Jack Harper thoughtfully. He takes a few steps towards her work station. 'That's a nice big desk you've got there, Artemis.' He smiles at her. 'Is it new?'
'… this new desk arrived the other day, and she just took it …'
He remembers everything, doesn't he? Everything.
Oh God. What the fuck else did I say?
I'm sitting perfectly still, while Artemis makes some showy-off reply, with my pleasant, good-employee expression. But my mind is frantically spooling back, trying to remember, trying to piece together what I said. I mean, God, I told this man everything about myself. Everything. I told him what sort of knickers I wear, and what flavour ice-cream I like, and how I lost my virginity, and—
My blood runs cold.
I'm remembering something I should not have told him.
Something I should not have told anyone.
'… I know I shouldn't have done it, but I so wanted to get the job …'
I told him about faking the A grade on my CV.
Well, that's it. I'm dead.
He'll fire me. I'll get a record for being dishonest and no-one will ever employ me again, and I'll end up on a 'Britain's Worst Jobs' documentary, clearing up cow poo, saying brightly 'It's not too bad, really.'
OK. Don't panic. There must be something I can do. I'll apologize. Yes. I'll say it was an error of judgement which I now deeply regret, and I never meant to mislead the company, and—
No. I'll say, 'Actually, I did get an A grade, haha, silly me I forgot!' And then I'll forge a GCSE certificate with one of those calligraphy kits. I mean, he's American. He'll never know.
No. He's bound to find out. Oh God. Oh God.
OK, maybe I'm over-reacting here. Let's just get things in proportion. Jack Harper is a huge important guy. Look at him! He's got limos and flunkies, and a huge great company which makes millions every year. He doesn't care if one of his employees got a poxy A grade or not. I mean, honestly!
I laugh out loud in my nerves, and Artemis gives me an odd look.
'I'd just like to say that I'm very glad to meet you all,' says Jack Harper, looking around the silent office. 'And also introduce my assistant Sven Petersen.' He gestures to the guy with blond hair. 'I'll be staying here for a few days so I hope I'll get to know a few of you better. As you're aware, Pete Laidler, who founded the Panther Corporation with me, was British. For that reason, among many others, this country has always been immensely important to me.'
A sympathetic murmur goes around the office. He lifts a hand, nods, and walks away, followed by Sven and all the executives. There's silence until he's gone, then an excited babble breaks out.
I feel my whole body sag in relief. Thank God. Thank God.
Honestly, I'm such a moron. Fancy thinking even for a moment that Jack Harper would remember what I said. Let alone care about it! Fancy thinking he would take time out of his busy, important schedule, for something as tiny and insignificant as whether I faked my CV or not! As I reach for my mouse and click on a new document, I'm actually smiling.
'Emma.' I look up to see Paul standing over my desk. 'Jack Harper would like to see you,' he says curtly.
'What?' My smile fades away. 'Me?'
'The meeting room in five minutes.'
'Did he say why?'
'No.'
Paul strides off, and I gaze unseeingly at my computer screen, feeling sick.
I was right first time.
I'm going to lose my job.
I'm going to lose my job because of one