God, the air of excitement is infectious. With a spurt of adrenalin, I find myself reaching for my comb and checking my lip-gloss. I mean, you never know. Maybe he'll somehow spot my potential. Maybe he'll pull me out of the crowd!
'OK, folks,' says Paul, striding into the department. 'He's on this floor. He's going into Admin first …'
'On with your everyday tasks!' exclaims Cyril. 'Now!'
Fuck. What's my everyday task?
I pick up my phone and press my voice-mail code. I can be listening to my messages.
I look around the department — and see that everyone else has done the same thing.
We can't all be on the phone. This is so stupid! OK, I'll just switch on my computer and wait for it to warm up.
As I watch the screen changing colour, Artemis starts talking in a loud voice.
'I think the whole essence of the concept is vitality,' she says, her eye constantly flicking towards the door. 'D'you see what I mean?'
'Er, yes,' says Nick. 'I mean, in a modern marketing environment, I think we need to be looking at a … um … fusion of strategy and forward-thinking vision …'
God, my computer's slow today. Jack Harper will arrive and I'll still be staring at it like a moron.
I know what I'll do. I'll be the person getting a coffee. I mean, what could be more natural than that?
'I think I'll get a coffee,' I say self-consciously, and get up from my seat.
'Could you get me one?' says Artemis, looking up briefly. 'So anyway, on my MBA course …'
The coffee machine is near the entrance to the department, in its own little alcove. As I'm waiting for the noxious liquid to fill my cup, I glance up, and see Graham Hillingdon walking out of the admin department, followed by a couple of others. Shit! He's coming!
OK. Keep cool. Just wait for the second cup to fill, nice and natural …
And there he is! With his blond hair and his expensive-looking suit, and his dark glasses. But to my slight surprise, he steps back, out of the way.
In fact, no-one's even looking at him. Everyone's attention is focused on some other guy. A guy in jeans and a black turtleneck who's walking out now.
As I stare in fascination, he turns. And as I see his face I feel an almighty thud, as though a bowling ball's landed hard in my chest.
Oh my God.
It's him.
The same dark eyes. The same lines etched around them. The stubble's gone, but it's definitely him.
It's the man from the plane.
What's he doing here?
And why is everyone's attention on him? He's speaking now, and they're lapping up every word he says.
He turns again, and I instinctively duck back out of sight, trying to keep calm. What's he doing here? He can't—
That can't be—
That can't possibly be—
With wobbly legs, I walk back to my desk, trying not to drop the coffee on the floor.
'Hey,' I say to Artemis, my voice pitched slightly too high. 'Erm … do you know what Jack Harper looks like?'
'No,' she says, and takes her coffee. 'Thanks.'
'Dark hair,' says someone.
'Dark?' I swallow. 'Not blond?'
'He's coming this way!' hisses someone. 'He's coming!'
With weak legs I sink into my chair and sip my coffee, not tasting it.
'… our head of marketing and promotion, Paul Fletcher,' I can hear Graham saying.
'Good to meet you, Paul,' comes the same dry, American voice.
It's him. It's definitely him.
OK, keep calm. Maybe he won't remember me. It was one short flight. He probably takes a lot of flights.
'Everyone.' Paul is leading him into the centre of the office. 'I'm delighted to introduce our founding father, the man who has influenced and inspired a generation of marketeers — Jack Harper!'
A round of applause breaks out, and Jack Harper shakes his head, smiling. 'Please,' he says. 'No fuss. Just do what you would normally do.'
He starts to walk around the office, pausing now and then to talk to people. Paul is leading the way, making all the introductions, and following them silently everywhere is the blond man.
'Here he comes!' Artemis hisses, and everyone at our end of the office stiffens.
My heart starts to thump, and I shrink into my chair, trying to hide behind my computer. Maybe he won't recognize me. Maybe he won't remember. Maybe he won't—
Fuck. He's looking at me. I see the flash of surprise in his eyes, and he raises his eyebrows.
He recognizes me.
Please don't come over, I silently pray. Please don't come over.
'And who's this?' he says to Paul.
'This is Emma Corrigan, one of our junior marketing assistants.'
He's walking towards me. Artemis has stopped talking. Everyone's staring. I'm hot with embarrassment.
'Hello,' he says pleasantly.
'Hello,' I manage. 'Mr Harper.'
OK, so he recognizes me. But that doesn't necessarily mean he remembers anything I said. A few random comments thrown out by a person in the next-door seat. Who's going to remember that? Maybe he wasn't even listening.
'And what do you do?'
'I, um, assist the marketing department and I help with setting up promotional initiatives,' I mumble.
'Emma was in Glasgow only last week on business,' puts in Paul, giving me a completely phoney smile. 'We believe in giving our junior staff responsibility as early as possible.'
'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.