I stand perfectly still, trying to ignore my thrusting panic, trying to work out what to do.

OK. I'll just have to go to the party and act normally, keep trying her on the phone and if all else fails, wait until I see her later. There's nothing else I can do. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

The party is huge and bright and noisy. All the dancers are there, still in costume, and all the audience, and a fair number of people who seem to have come along just for the ride. Waiters are carrying drinks around and the noise of chatter is tremendous. As I walk in, I can't see anyone I know. I take a glass of wine and start edging into the crowd, overhearing conversations all around.

'… wonderful costumes …'

'… find time for rehearsals?'

'… judge was totally intransigent …'

Suddenly I spot Lissy, looking flushed and shiny and surrounded by a load of good-looking lawyer-type guys, one of whom is blatantly staring at her legs.

'Lissy!' I cry. She turns around and I give her a huge hug. 'I had no idea you could dance like that! You were amazing!'

'Oh no. I wasn't,' she says at once, and pulls a typical Lissy-face. 'I completely messed up—'

'Stop!' I interrupt. 'Lissy, it was utterly fantastic. You were fantastic.'

'But I was completely crap in the—'

'Don't say you were crap!' I practically yell. 'You were fantastic. Say it. Say it, Lissy.'

'Well … OK.' Her face reluctantly creases into a smile. 'OK. I was … fantastic!' She gives an elated laugh. 'Emma, I've never felt so good in my life! And guess what, we're already planning to go on tour next year.'

'But …' I stare at her. 'You said you never wanted to do this again, ever, and if you mentioned it again, I had to stop you.'

'Oh, that was just stage fright,' she says with an airy wave of her hand. Then she lowers her voice. 'I saw Jack, by the way.' She gives me an avid look. 'What's going on?'

My heart gives a huge thump. Should I tell her about Jemima?

No. She'll only get all hassled. And anyway, there's nothing either of us can do right now.

'Jack came here to talk to me.' I hesitate. 'To … tell me his secret.'

'You're joking!' breathes Lissy, hand to her mouth. 'So — what is it?'

'I can't tell you.'

'You can't tell me?' Lissy stares at me in incredulity. 'After all that, you're not even going to tell me?'

'Lissy, I really can't.' I pull an agonized face. 'It's … complicated.'

God, I sound just like Jack.

'Well, all right,' says Lissy a bit grumpily. 'I suppose I can live without knowing. So … are you two together again?'

'I dunno,' I say, flushing. 'Maybe.'

'Lissy! That was fabulous!' A couple of girls in suits appear at her side. I give her a smile and move away slightly as she greets them.

Jack is nowhere to be seen. Should I try Jemima again?

Surreptitiously I start getting out my phone, then hastily put it away again as I hear a voice behind me calling 'Emma!'

I look round, and give a huge start of surprise. Connor's standing there in a suit, holding a glass of wine, his hair all shiny and blond under the spotlights. He has a new tie on, I notice instantly. Big yellow polka dots on blue. I don't like it.

'Connor! What are you doing here?' I say in astonishment.

'Lissy sent me a flyer,' he replies, a little defensively. 'I've always been fond of Lissy. I thought I'd come along. And I'm glad I've run into you,' he adds awkwardly. 'I'd like to talk to you, if I may.'

He draws me towards the door, away from the main crowd, and I follow, a tad nervously. I haven't had a proper chat with Connor since Jack was on television. Which could possibly be because every time I've glimpsed him, I've quickly hurried the other way.

'Yes?' I say, turning to face him. 'What did you want to talk about?'

'Emma.' Connor clears his throat as though he's about to start a formal speech. 'I get the feeling that you weren't always … totally honest with me in our relationship.'

This could be the understatement of the year.

'You're right,' I admit, shamefacedly. 'Oh God, Connor, I'm really, really sorry about everything that happened—' He lifts a hand with a look of dignity.

'It doesn't matter. That's water under the bridge. But I'd be grateful if you were totally honest with me now.'

'Absolutely,' I say, nodding earnestly. 'Of course.'

'I've recently … started a new relationship,' he says, a little stiffly.

'Wow!' I say in surprise. 'Good for you! Connor, I'm really pleased. What's her name?'

'Her name's Francesca.'

'And where did you—'

'I wanted to ask you about sex,' Connor says, cutting me off in a rush of embarrassment.

'Oh! Right.' I feel a twinge of dismay, which I conceal by taking a sip of wine. 'Of course!'

'Were you honest with me in that … area?'

'Er … what do you mean?' I say lightly, playing for time.

'Were you honest with me in bed?' His face is growing pillar-box red. 'Or were you faking it?'

Oh no. Is that what he thinks?

'Connor, I never ever faked an orgasm with you,' I say, lowering my voice. 'Hand on heart. I never did.'

'Well … OK.' He rubs his nose awkwardly. 'But did you fake anything else?'

I look at him uncertainly. 'I'm not sure I know what you—'

'Were there any —' he clears his throat

'— any particular techniques I used which you only pretended to enjoy?'.

Oh God. Please don't ask me that question.

'You know, I really … can't remember!' I hedge. 'Actually, I ought to be going …'

'Emma, tell me!' he says, with sudden passion. 'I'm starting a new relationship. It's only fair that I should be able to … to learn from past mistakes.'

I gaze back at his shiny face and suddenly feel a huge pang of guilt. He's right. I should be honest. I should finally be honest with him.

'OK,' I say at last, and move closer to him. 'You remember that one thing you used to do with your tongue?' I lower my voice still further. 'That … slidey thing? Well, sometimes that kind of made me want to … laugh. So if I had one tip with your new girlfriend, it would be don't do …'

I tail off at his expression.

Fuck. He's already done.it.

'Francesca said …' Connor says in a voice as stiff as a board. 'Francesca told me that really turned her on.'

'Well, I'm sure it did!' I backtrack madly. 'Women are all different. Our bodies are all different … everybody likes … different things.'

Connor is staring me in consternation.

'She said she loved jazz, too.'

'Well, I expect she does! Loads of people do like jazz.'

'She said she loved the way I could quote Woody Allen line for line.' He rubs his flushed face. 'Was she lying?'

'No, I'm sure she wasn't …' I tail off helplessly.

'Emma …' He stares at me bewilderedly. 'Do all women have secrets?'

Oh no. Have I ruined Connor's trust in all of womankind for ever?

'No!' I exclaim. 'Of course they don't! Honestly, Connor, I'm sure it's only me.'

My words wither on my lips as I glimpse a flash of familiar-looking blond hair at the entrance to the hall. My heart stops.

That can't be—

That's not—

'Connor, I have to go,' I say, and start hurrying towards the entrance.

'She told me she's size ten!' Connor calls helplessly after me. 'What does that mean? What size should I really buy?'

'Twelve!' I shoot back over my shoulder.

It is. It's Jemima. Standing in the foyer. What's she doing here?

The door opens again and I experience such a shock, I feel faint. She's got a guy with her. In jeans, with cropped hair and squirrelly eyes. He's got a camera slung over his shoulder and is looking around interestedly.

No.

She can't have done.

'Emma,' comes a voice in my ear.

'Jack!' I wheel round, to see him smiling down at me, his dark eyes full of affection.

'You OK?' he says, and gently touches my nose.

'Fine!' I say a little shrilly. 'I'm great!'

I have to manage this situation. I have to.

'Jack — could you get me some water?' I hear myself saying. 'I'll just stay here. I'm feeling a bit dizzy.' Jack looks alarmed.

'You know, I thought there was something wrong. Let me take you home. I'll call the car.'

'No. It's … it's fine. I want to stay. Just get me some water. Please,' I add as an afterthought.

As soon as he's gone I tear into the foyer, almost tripping up in my haste.

'Emma!' Jemima looks up brightly. 'Excellent! I was just about to look for you. Now, this is Mick, and he wants to ask you some questions. We thought we'd use this little room here.' She heads into a small, empty office which leads off from the foyer.

'No!' I say, grabbing her arm. 'Jemima, you have to go. Now. Go!'

'I'm not going anywhere!' Jemima jerks her arm out of my grasp and rolls her eyes at Mick, who's closing the door of the office behind me. 'I told you she was being all hissy about it.'

'Mick Collins,' Mick thrusts a business card into my hand. 'Delighted to meet you, Emma. Now, there's no need to get worried, is there?' He gives me a soothing smile, as though he's completely used to dealing with hysterical women telling him to go. Which he probably is. 'Let's just sit down quietly, have a nice chat …'

He's chewing gum as he speaks, and as I smell the spearmint wafting towards me, I almost want to throw up.

'Look, there's been a misunderstanding,' I say, forcing myself to sound polite. 'I'm afraid there's no story.'

'Well, let's see about that, shall we?' says Mick with a friendly smile. 'You tell me the facts …'

'No! I mean, there's nothing.' I turn to Jemima. 'I told you I didn't want you to do anything. You promised me!'

'Emma, you are such a wimp.' She gives Mick an exasperated look. 'Do you see why I've been forced to take action? I told you what a bastard Jack Harper was to her. He needs to learn his lesson.'

'Absolutely right,' agrees Mick and puts his head on one side as though measuring me up. 'Very attractive,' he says to Jemima. 'You know, we could think about an accompanying interview feature. My romp with top boss. You could make some serious money,' he adds to me.

'No!' I say in horror.

'Emma, stop being so coy!' snaps Jemima. 'You want to do it really. This could be a whole new career for you, you realize.'

'I don't want a new career!'

'Well then you should! Do you know how much Monica Lewinsky makes a year?'

'You're sick,' I say in disbelief. 'You're a totally sick, warped—'

'Emma, I'm just acting in your best interests.'

'You're not!' I cry, feeling my face flame red. 'I … I might be getting back together with Jack!'

There's a thirty-second silence. I stare at her, holding my breath. Then it's as if the killer robot jerks into action again, shooting yet more rays.

'Even more reason to do it!' says Jemima. 'This'll keep him on his toes. This'll show him who's boss. Go on, Mick.'

'Interview with Emma Corrigan. Tuesday, 15th July, 9.40 p.m.' I look up, and stiffen in horror. Mick has produced a small tape recorder and is holding it towards me.

'You first met Jack Harper on a plane. Can you confirm where this was flying from and to?' He gives me a smile. 'Just speak naturally, like you would to a mate on the phone.'

'Stop it!' I yell. 'Just leave! Leave!'

'Emma, grow up,' says Jemima impatiently. 'Mick's going to find out what this secret is whether you help him or not, so you might as well be—' She stops abruptly as the door handle rattles, then turns.

The room seems to swim around me.

Please don't say — please—

As the door slowly opens, I can't breathe. I can't move.

I have never felt so frightened in my entire life.

'Emma?' says Jack, coming in, holding two glasses of water in one hand. 'Are you feeling OK? I got you both still and sparkling, because I wasn't quite …'

He tails off, his eyes running confusedly over Jemima and Mick. With a flicker of bewilderment, he takes in Mick's card, still in my hand. Then his gaze falls on the turning tape recorder and something slides out of his face.

'I think I'll just make myself scarce,' murmurs Mick, raising his eyebrows at Jemima. He slips the tape recording into his pocket, picks up his rucksack and sidles out of the room. Nobody speaks for a few moments. All I can hear is the throbbing in my head.