Sophie Kinsella - Can You Keep a Secret?

SOPHIE KINSELLA

Can You Keep
a Secret?

THE DIAL PRESS

Table of Contents

To H, from whom I have no secrets. Well, not many.

One

Of course I have secrets.

Of course I do. Everyone has a few secrets. Its completely normal.

Im not talking about big, earth-shattering secrets. Not the-president-is-planning-to-bomb-Japan-and-only-Will-Smith-can-save-the-world type secrets. Just normal, everyday little secrets.

Like, for example, here are a few random secrets of mine, off the top of my head:

1. My Kate Spade bag is a fake.

2. I love sweet sherry, the least cool drink in the universe.

3. I have no idea what NATO stands for. Or even exactly what it is.

4. I weigh 128 pounds. Not 118, like my boyfriend, Connor, thinks. (Although, in my defense, I was planning to go on a diet when I told him that. And, to be fair, it is only one number different.)

5. Ive always thought Connor looks a bit like Ken. As in Barbie and Ken.

6. Sometimes, when were right in the middle of passionate sex, I suddenly want to laugh.

7. I lost my virginity in the spare bedroom with Danny Nussbaum while Mum and Dad were downstairs watching Ben-Hur.

8. Ive already drunk the wine that Dad told me to save for twenty years.

9. Sammy the goldfish at home isnt the same goldfish that Mum and Dad gave me to look after when they went to Egypt.

10. When my colleague Artemis really annoys me, I feed her plant orange juice. (Which is pretty much every day.)

11. I once had this weird lesbian dream about my flatmate Lissy.

12. My G-string is hurting me.

13. Ive always had this deep-down conviction that Im not like everybody else, and theres an amazingly exciting new life waiting for me just around the corner.

14. I have no idea what this guy in the gray suit is going on about.

15. Plus, Ive already forgotten his name.

And I only met him ten minutes ago.

We believe in multi-logistical formative alliances, hes saying in a nasal, droning voice, both above and below the line.

Absolutely! I reply brightly, as though to say Doesnt everybody?

Multi-logistical. What does that mean, again?

Oh, God. What if they ask me?

Dont be stupid, Emma. They wont suddenly demand, What does multi-logistical mean? Im a fellow marketing professional, arent I? Obviously I know these things.

And anyway, if they mention it again, Ill change the subject. Or Ill say Im post-logistical or something.

The important thing is to keep confident and businesslike. I can do this. This is my big chance, and Im not going to screw it up.

Im sitting in the offices of Glen Oils headquarters in Glasgow, and as I glance at my reflection in the window, I look just like a top businesswoman. My shoulder-length hair is straightened, after half an hour with the hair dryer and a bottle of serum this morning. Im wearing discreet gold swirl earrings like they tell you to in how-to-win-that-job articles. And Ive got on my smart new Jigsaw suit. (At least, its practically new. I got it from the Cancer Research shop and sewed on a button to replace the missing one, and you can hardly tell.)

Im here representing the Panther Corporation, which is where I work. The meeting is to finalize a promotional arrangement between the new cranberry-flavored Panther Prime sports drink and Glen Oil, and I flew up this morning from London, especially.

When I arrived, the two Glen Oil marketing guys started on this long, show-offy whos traveled the most? conversation about air miles and the red-eye to Washingtonand I think I bluffed pretty convincingly. But the truth is, this is the first time Ive ever had to travel for work.

OK. The real truth is, this is the first business meeting Ive attended on my own. Ive been at the Panther Corporation for eleven months as a marketing assistant, which is the bottom level in our department. I started off just doing menial tasks like typing letters, getting the sandwiches, and collecting my boss Pauls dry cleaning. But after a couple of months, I was allowed to start checking copy. Then a few months ago, I got to write my very own promotional leaflet, for a tie-in with washing powder! God, I was excited. I bought a creative-writing book especially to help me, and I spent all weekend working on it. And I was really pleased with the result, even if it didnt have a misunderstood villain like the book suggested. And even if Paul did just glance at the copy and say Fine and kind of forget to tell anyone that I wrote it.

Since then Ive done a fair bit of writing promotional literature, and Ive even sat in on a few meetings with Paul. So I really think Im moving up the ladder. In lots of ways Im practically a marketing executive already!

Except for the tiny point that I still seem to do just as much typing as before. And getting sandwiches and collecting dry cleaning. I just do it as well as the other jobs. Especially so since our departmental secretary, Gloria, left a few weeks ago and still hasnt been replaced.

But its all going to change; I know it is. This meeting is my big break. Its my first chance to show Paul what Im really capable of. I had to beg him to let me goafter all, Glen Oil and Panther have done loads of deals together in the past; its not like therell be any surprises. But deep down I know Im here only because I was in his office when he realized hed double-booked with an awards lunch that most of the department were attending. So here I am, representing the company.

And my secret hope is that if I do well today, Ill get promoted. The job ad said possibility of promotion after a yearand its nearly been a year. And on Monday Im having my appraisal meeting. I looked up Appraisals in the staff induction book, and it said they are an ideal opportunity to discuss possibilities for career advancement.

Career advancement! At the thought, I feel a familiar stab of longing. It would just show Dad Im not a complete loser. And Mum. And Kerry. If I could just go home and say, By the way, Ive been promoted to marketing executive.

Emma Corrigan, marketing executive.

Emma Corrigan, senior vice-president (marketing).

As long as everything goes well today. Paul said the deal was pretty much done and dusted, and all I had to do was raise one point about timing, and even I should be able to manage that. And so far, I reckon its going really well!

OK, so I dont understand some of the terms theyre using. But then I didnt understand most of my GCSE French Oral either, and I still got a B.

Rebranding... analysis... cost-effective...

The man in the gray suit is still droning on. As casually as possible, I extend my hand and inch his business card toward me so I can read it.

Doug Hamilton. Thats right. I can remember this. Doug. Dug. EasyIll picture a shovel. Together with a ham. Which... which looks ill... and...

OK, forget this. Ill just write it down.

I write down rebranding and Doug Hamilton on my notepad and give an uncomfortable little wriggle. God, my knickers really are uncomfortable. I mean, G-strings are never that comfortable at the best of times, but these are particularly bad. Which could be because theyre two sizes too small.

Which could possibly be because when Connor bought them for me, he told the lingerie assistant I weighed 118 pounds. Whereupon she told him I must be size 4. Size 4!

So it got to Christmas Eve, and we were exchanging presents, and I unwrapped this pair of gorgeous pale pink silk knickers. Size 4. And I basically had two options.

A: Confess the truth: Actually, these are too small. Im more of an eight, and by the way, I dont really weigh one hundred eighteen pounds.