The tubes are miraculously quick for once, and I arrive home within twenty minutes. As I push open the front door of the flat I can hear a strange noise coming from Lissy's room. A kind of thumping, bumping sound. Maybe she's moving her furniture around.
'Lissy,' I call asl go into the kitchen. 'You will not believe what happened today.' I open the fridge, take out a bottle of Evian and hold it against my hot forehead. After a while I open the bottle and take a few swigs, then wander out into the hall again to see Lissy's door opening.
'Lissy!' I begin. 'What on earth were you—'
And then I halt, as out of the door comes not Lissy, but a man.
A man! A tall thin guy in trendy black trousers and steel spectacles.
'Oh,' I say, taken aback. 'Er … hi.'
'Emma!' says Lissy, following him out. She's wearing a T-shirt over some grey leggings I've never seen before, is drinking a glass of water and looks startled to see me. 'You're home early.'
'I know. I was in a hurry.'
This is Jean-Paul,' says Lissy. 'Jean-Paul, my flatmate Emma.'
'Hello, Jean-Paul,' I say with a friendly smile.
'Good to meet you, Emma,' says Jean-Paul, in a French accent.
God, French accents are sexy. I mean, they just are.
'Jean-Paul and I were just … um … going over some case notes,' says Lissy.
'Oh right,' I say brightly. 'Lovely!'
Case notes. Yeah, right. Because that would really make a whole load of thumping noises.
Lissy is such a dark horse!
'I must be going,' says Jean-Paul, looking at Lissy.
'I'll just see you out,' she says, flustered.
She disappears out of the front door, and I can hear the two of them murmuring on the landing.
I take a few more swigs of Evian, then walk into the sitting room and slump down heavily on the sofa. My whole body's aching from sitting rigid with tension all day. This is seriously bad for my health. How on earth am I going to survive a whole week of Jack Harper?
'So!' I say as Lissy walks back into the room. 'What's going on?'
'What do you mean?' she says shiftily.
'You and Jean-Paul! How long have you two been …'
'We're not,' starts Lissy, turning red. 'It's not … We were going over case notes. That's all.'
'Sure you were.'
'We were! That's all it was!'
'OK,' I say, raising my eyebrows. 'If you say so.'
Lissy sometimes gets like this, all shy and abashed. I'll just have to get her pissed one night, and she'll admit it.
'So how was your day?' she says, sinking onto the floor and reaching for a magazine.
How was my day?
I don't even know where to start.
'My day,' I say at last. 'My day was a bit of a nightmare.'
'Really?' says Lissy, looking up in surprise.
'No, take that back. It was a complete nightmare.'
'What happened?' Lissy's attention is fully grabbed. 'Tell me!'
'OK.' I take a deep breath and smooth my hair back, wondering where on earth to start. 'OK, remember I had that awful flight back from Scotland last week?'
'Yes!' Lissy's face lights up. 'And Connor came to meet you and it was all really romantic …'
'Yes. Well.' I clear my throat. 'Before that. On the flight. There was this … this man sitting next to me. And the plane got really turbulent.' I bite my lip. 'And the thing is, I honestly thought we were all going to die and this was the last person I would ever see, and … I …'
'Oh my God!' Lissy claps her hand over her mouth. 'You didn't have sex with him.'
'Worse! I told him all my secrets.'
I'm expecting Lissy to gasp, or say something sympathetic like 'Oh no!' but she's staring at me blankly.
'What secrets?'
'My secrets. You know.'
Lissy looks as if I've told her I've got an artificial leg.
'You have secrets?'
'Of course I have secrets!' I say. 'Everyone has a few secrets.'
'I don't!' she says at once, looking offended. 'I don't have any secrets.'
'Yes you do!'
'Like what?'
'Like … like … OK.' I start counting off on my fingers. 'You never told your dad it was you who lost the garage key that time.'
'That was ages ago!' says Lissy scornfully.
'You never told Simon you were hoping he might propose to you …'
'I wasn't!' says Lissy, colouring. 'Well, OK, maybe I was …'
'You think that sad guy next door fancies you …'
'That's not a secret!' she says, rolling her eyes.
'Oh right. Shall I tell him, then?' I lean back towards the open window. 'Hey Mike,' I call. 'Guess what? Lissy thinks you—'
'Stop!' says Lissy frantically.
'You see? You have got secrets. Everyone has secrets. The Pope probably has a few secrets.'
'OK,' says Lissy. 'OK. You've made your point. But I don't understand what the problem is. So you told some guy on a plane your secrets—'
'And now he's turned up at work.'
'What?' Lissy stares at me. 'Are you serious? Who is he?'
'He's …' I'm about to say Jack Harper's name when I remember the promise I made. 'He's just this … this guy who's come in to observe,' I say vaguely.
'Is he senior?'
'He's … yes. You could say he's pretty senior.'
'Blimey.' Lissy frowns, thinking for a few moments. 'Well, does it really matter? If he knows a few things about you.'
'Lissy, it wasn't just a few things.' I feel myself flush slightly. 'It was everything. I told him I faked a grade on my CV.'
'You faked a grade on your CV?' echoes Lissy in shock. 'Are you serious?'
'I told him about feeding Artemis's spider plant orange juice, I told him I find G-strings uncomfortable …'
I tail off to see Lissy staring at me, aghast.
'Emma,' she says at last. 'Have you ever heard the phrase "too much information?"'
'I didn't mean to say any of it!' I retort defensively. 'It just kind of came out! I'd had three vodkas, and I thought we were about to die. Honestly, Lissy, you would have been the same. Everyone was screaming, people were praying, the plane was lurching around …'