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'Scrape his car, shred his suits, sew fish inside his curtains and wait for them to rot …' Jemima reels off instantly, as though reciting poetry.

'Did you learn that at finishing school?' says Lissy, rolling her eyes.

'I'm being a feminist, actually,' retorts Jemima. 'We women have to stand up for our rights. You know, before she married my father, Mummy went out with this scientist chap who practically jilted her. He changed his mind three weeks before the wedding, can you believe it? So one night she crept into his lab and pulled out all the plugs of his stupid machines. His whole research was ruined! She always says, that taught Emerson!'

'Emerson?' says Lissy, staring at her in disbelief. 'As in … Emerson Davies?'

'That's right! Davies.'

'Emerson Davies who nearly discovered a cure for smallpox?'

'Well, he shouldn't have messed Mummy about, should he?' says Jemima, lifting her chin mutinously. She turns to me. 'Another of Mummy's tips is chilli oil. You somehow arrange to have sex with the chap again, and then you say. "How about a little massage oil?" And you rub it into his … you know.' Her eyes sparkle. 'That'll hurt him where it counts!'

'Your mother told you this?' says Lissy.

'Yes,' says Jemima. 'It was rather sweet, actually. On my eighteenth birthday she sat me down and said we should have a little chat about men and women—'

Lissy is staring at her incredulously.

'In which she instructed you to rub chilli oil into men's genitals?'

'Only if they treat you badly,' says Jemima in annoyance. 'What is your problem, Lissy? Do you think you should just let men walk all over you and get away with it? Great blow for feminism.'

'I'm not saying that,' says Lissy. 'I just wouldn't get my revenge with … chilli oil!'

'Well, what would you do then, clever clogs?' says Jemima, putting her hands on her hips.

'OK,' says Lissy. 'If I was going to stoop so low as get my revenge, which I never would because personally I think it's a huge mistake …' She pauses for breath. 'I'd do exactly what he did. I'd expose one of his secrets.'

'Actually … that's rather good,' says Jemima grudgingly.

'Humiliate him,' says Lissy, with a tiny air of vindication. 'Embarrass him. See how he likes it.'

They both turn and look at me expectantly.

'But I don't know any of his secrets,' I say.

'You must do!' says Jemima.

'Of course you do!'

'I don't,' I say, feeling a fresh humiliation. 'Lissy, you had it right all along. Our relationship was completely one-sided. I shared all my secrets with him – but he didn't share any of his with me. He didn't tell me anything. We weren't soulmates. I was a completely deluded moron.'

'Emma, you weren't a moron,' says Lissy, putting a sympathetic hand on mine. 'You were just trusting.'

'Trusting – moron – it's the same thing.'

'You must know something!' says Jemima. 'You slept with him, for goodness sake! He must have some secret. Some weak point.'

'An Achilles' heel,' puts in Lissy, and Jemima gives her an odd look.

'It doesn't have to be to do with his feet,' she says, and turns to me, pulling a 'Lissy's lost it' face. 'It could be anything. Anything at all. Think back!'

I close my eyes obediently and cast my mind back. But my mind's swirling a bit, from all that schnapps. Secrets … Jack's secrets … think back …

Scotland. Suddenly a coherent thought passes through my mind. I open my eyes, feeling a tingle of exhilaration. I do know one of his secrets. I do!

'What?' says Jemima avidly. 'Have you remembered something?'

'He …' I stop, feeling torn.

I did make a promise to Jack. I did promise.

But then, so what? So bloody what? My chest swells in emotion again. Why on earth am I keeping any stupid promise to him? It's not like he kept my secrets to himself, is it?

'He was in Scotland!' I say triumphantly. 'The first time we met after the plane, he asked me to keep it a secret that he was in Scotland.'

'Why did he do that?' says Lissy.

'I dunno.'

'What was he doing in Scotland?' puts in Jemima.

'I dunno.'

There's a pause.

'Hmm,' says Jemima kindly. 'It's not the most embarrassing