Can you keep a secret_ - Sophie Kinsella [85]
I come out of the kitchen, listen intently for a moment, then quickly tiptoe back towards the front door.
Start again. I'm walking into the flat for the first time.
'Hi, Lissy!' I call self-consciously, as though a camera's trained'on me. 'Gosh! I wonder where she is. Maybe I'll … um … try her bedroom!'
I walk down the corridor, attempting a natural stride, arrive at her door and give the tiniest of knocks.
There's no response from inside. The thumping noises have died down. I stare at the blank wood, feeling a sudden apprehension.
Am I really going to do this?
Yes, I am. I just have to know.
I grasp the handle, open the door – and give a scream of terror.
The image is so startling, I can't make sense of it. Lissy's naked. They're both naked. She and the guy are tangled together in the strangest position I've ever, ever … her legs are up in the air, and his are twisted round her, and they're both scarlet in the face and panting.
'I'm sorry!' I stutter. 'God, I'm sorry!'
'Emma, wait!' I hear Lissy shout as I scuttle away to my room, slam the door and sink onto my bed.
My heart is pounding. I almost feel sick. I've never been so shocked in my entire life. I should never have opened that door. I should never have opened that door.
She was telling the truth! They were having sex! But I mean, what kind of weird, contorted sex was that? Bloody hell. I never realized. I never—
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and give a fresh scream.
'Emma, calm down!' says Lissy. 'It's me! Jean-Paul's gone.'
I can't look up. I can't meet her eye.
'Lissy, I'm sorry,' I gabble, staring at the floor. 'I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that. I should never have … your sex life is your own affair.'
'Emma, we weren't having sex, you dope!'
'You were! I saw you! You didn't have any clothes on.'
'We did have clothes on. Emma, look at me!'
'No!' I say in panic. 'I don't want to look at you!'
'Look at me!'
Apprehensively, I raise my head, and gradually my eyes focus on Lissy, standing in front of me.
Oh. Oh … right. She's wearing a flesh-coloured leotard.
'Well what were you doing if you weren't having sex?' I say, almost accusingly. 'And why are you wearing that?'
'We were dancing,' says Lissy, looking embarrassed.
'What?' I stare at her in utter bewilderment.
'We were dancing, OK? That's what we were doing!'
'Dancing? But … why were you dancing?'
This makes no sense at all. Lissy and a French guy called Jean-Paul dancing in her bedroom? I feel like I've landed in the middle of some weird dream.
'I've joined this group,' says Lissy after a pause.
'Oh my God. Not a cult—'
'No, not a cult. It's just …' She bites her lip. 'It's some lawyers who've got together and formed a … a dance group.'
A dance group?
For a few moments I can't quite speak. Now that my shock's died down, I have this horrible feeling that I might possibly be about to laugh.
'You've joined a group of … dancing lawyers.'
'Yes.' Lissy nods.
An image pops into my head of a bunch of portly barristers dancing around in their wigs and I can't help it, I give a snort of laughter.
'You see!' cries Lissy. 'That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd laugh!'
'I'm sorry!' I say. 'I'm sorry! I'm not laughing. I think it's really great!' Another hysterical giggle bursts from me. 'It's just … I don't know. Somehow the idea of dancing lawyers …'
'We're not all lawyers,' she says defensively. There are a couple of merchant bankers, too, and a judge … Emma, stop laughing!'
'I'm sorry,' I say helplessly. 'Lissy, I'm not laughing at you, honestly.' I take a deep breath and try desperately to clamp my lips together. But all I can see is merchant bankers dressed in tutus, clutching their briefcases, dancing to Swan Lake. A judge leaping across the stage, robes flying.
'It's not funny!' Lissy's saying.