Can you keep a secret_ - Sophie Kinsella [63]
But no, I've made up my mind.
'I don't care,' I gulp. 'I'm going. Thank you very much,' I add to the waiter. 'How did you know I wanted my coat?'
'We make it our business to know,' says the waiter discreetly.
'You see?' I say to Jack. 'They know me.'
There's an instant in which we stare at each other.
'Fine,' says Jack at last, and gives a resigned shrug. 'Fine. Daniel will take you home. He should be waiting outside in the car.'
'I'm not going home in your car!' I say in horror. 'I'll make my own way, thanks.'
'Emma. Don't be stupid.'
'Goodbye. And thanks very much,' I add to the waiter. 'You were all very attentive and nice to me.'
I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it's started to rain. And I don't have an umbrella.
Well, I don't care. I'm going anyway. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on the wet pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where I am. I don't even know where the nearest tube is, or where …
Hang on. There's a bus stop. I look down the numbers and see one that goes to Islington.
Well, fine. I'll take the bus home. And then I'll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. And maybe some icecream in front of the telly.
It's one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking God my hair won't get any wetter. I'm just staring blankly at a car advertisement, wondering what that Häagen-Dazs pudding tasted like and whether the meringue was the stiff white kind or that gorgeous chewy, caramel kind, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.
I don't believe it.
'Please,' says Jack, getting out. 'Let me take you home.'
'No,' I say, without turning my head.
'You can't stay here in the rain.'
'Yes I can. Some of us live in the real world, you know.'
I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster about AIDS. The next moment Jack has arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine and for a while we're both silent.
'I know I was terrible company this evening,' he says eventually. 'And I'm sorry. I'm also sorry I can't tell you anything about it. But my life is … complicated. And some bits of it are very delicate. Do you understand?'
No, I want to say. No, I don't understand, when I've told you every single little thing about me.
'I suppose,' I say, with a tiny shrug.
The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creeping into my – Jemima's – silver sandals. God, I hope it won't stain them.
'I'm sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,' says Jack, lifting his voice above the noise.
'It wasn't,' I say, suddenly feeling bad. 'I just … I had such high hopes! I wanted to get to know you a bit, and I wanted to have fun … and for us to laugh … and I wanted one of those pink cocktails, not champagne …'
Shit. Shit. That slipped out before I could stop it.
'But … you like champagne!' says Jack, looking stunned. 'You told me. Your perfect date would start off with champagne.'
I can't quite meet his eye.
'Yes, well. I didn't know about the pink cocktails then, did I?'
Jack throws back his head and laughs.
'Fair point. Very fair point. And I didn't even give you a choice, did I?' He shakes his head ruefully. 'You were probably sitting there thinking, damn this guy, can't he tell I want a pink cocktail?'
'No!' I say at once, but my cheeks are turning crimson, and Jack is looking at me with such a comical expression that I want to hug him.
'Oh Emma. I'm sorry.' He shakes his head. 'I wanted to get to know you too. And I wanted to have fun, too. It sounds like we both wanted the same things. And it's my fault we didn't get them.'
'It's not your fault,' I mumble awkwardly.
'This is not the way I planned for things to go.' He looks at me seriously. 'Will you give me another chance?'
A big red double-decker bus rumbles up to the bus stop, and we both look up.
'I've got to go,' I say, standing up. 'This is my bus.'
'Emma, don't be silly. Come in the car.'
'No. I'm going on the bus!'
The automatic doors open, and I step onto the bus. I show