And that's the end of that.

SEVENTEEN.

I once read an article called 'Make Things Go Your Way' which said if a day doesn't turn out as you intended, you should go back, charting the differences between your Goals and your Results, and this will help you learn from your mistakes.

OK. Let's just chart exactly how much this day has diverged from the original plan I had this morning.

Goal: Look like s.e.xy and sophisticated woman in beautiful, flattering dress.

Result: Look like Heidi/Munchkin extra in lurid puffy nylon sleeves.

Goal: Make secret a.s.signation with Jack.

Result: Make secret a.s.signation with Jack then fail to turn up.

Goal: Have fantastic s.e.x with Jack in romantic location.

Result: Have peanut-barbecued chicken drumstick on picnic rug.

Overall Goal: Euphoria.

Overall Result: Complete misery.

All I can do is stare dumbly down at my plate, telling myself this can't last for ever. Dad and Nev have made about a million jokes about Don't Mention Connor. Kerry has shown me her new Swiss watch which cost 4,000 and boasted about how her company is expanding yet again. And now she's telling us how she played golf with the chief executive of British Airways last week and he tried to head-hunt her.

'They all try it on,' she says, taking a huge bite of chicken drumstick. 'But I say to them, if I needed a job ...' She tails off. 'Did you want something?'

'Hi there,' comes a dry, familiar voice from above my head.

Very slowly I raise my head, blinking in the light.

It's Jack. Standing there against the blue sky in his cowboy outfit. He gives me a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, and I feel my heart lift. He's come to get me. I should have known he would.

'Hi!' I say, half-dazedly. 'Everyone, this is-'

'My name's Jack,' he cuts across me pleasantly. 'I'm a friend of Emma's. Emma ...' He looks at me, his face deliberately blank. 'I'm afraid you're needed.'

'Oh dear!' I say with a whoosh of relief. 'Oh well, never mind, these things happen.'

'That's a shame!' says Mum. 'Can't you at least stay for a quick drink? Jack, you're welcome to join us, have a chicken drumstick or some quiche.'

'We have to go,' I say hurriedly. 'Don't we, Jack?'

'I'm afraid we do,' he says, and holds out a hand to pull me up.

'Sorry, everyone,' I say.

'We don't mind!' says Kerry with the same sarky laugh. 'I'm sure you've some vital job to do, Emma. In fact, I expect the whole event would collapse without you!'

Jack stops. Very slowly, he turns round.

'Let me guess,' he says pleasantly. 'You must be Kerry.'

'Yes!' she says in surprise. 'That's right.'

'And Mum ... Dad ...' He surveys the faces. 'And you have to be ... Nev?'

'Spot on!' says Nev with a chortle.

'Very good!' says Mum with a laugh. 'Emma must have told you a bit about us.'

'Oh ... she has,' agrees Jack, looking around the picnic rug again with a kind of odd fascination on his face. 'You know, there might be time for that drink after all.'

What? What did he say?

'Good,' says Mum. 'It's always nice to meet friends of Emma's!'

I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.

'So, you work for this company, Jack?' says Dad, pouring him a gla.s.s of wine.

'In a way,' says Jack after a pause. 'You could say ... I used to.'

'Are you between jobs?' says Mum tactfully.

'You could put it like that, I guess.' His face crinkles in a little smile'.

'Oh dear!' says Mum sympathetically. 'What a shame. Still, I'm sure something will come up.'

Oh G.o.d. She has absolutely no idea who he is. None of my family has any idea who Jack is.

I'm really not at all sure I like this.

'I saw Danny Nussbaum the other day in the post office, Emma,' adds Mum, briskly slicing some tomatoes. 'He asked after you.'

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jack's eyes brightening.

'Gosh!' I say, my cheeks growing hot. 'Danny Nussbaum! I haven't thought about him for ages.'

'Danny and Emma used to step out together,' Mum explains to Jack with a fond smile. 'Such a nice boy. Very bookish. He and Emma used to study together in her bedroom, all afternoon.'

I cannot look at Jack. I cannot.

'You know ... Ben Hur's a fine film,' Jack suddenly says in thoughtful tones. 'A very fine film.' He smiles at Mum. 'Don't you think?'

I am going to kill him.

'Er ... yes!' says Mum, a bit confused. 'Yes, I've always liked Ben Hur.' She cuts Jack a huge chunk of quiche and adds a slice of tomato. 'So, Jack,' she says sympathetically as she hands him a paper plate. 'Are you getting by financially?'

'I'm doing OK,' Jack replies gravely.

Mum looks at him for a moment. Then she rummages in the picnic basket and produces another Sainsbury's quiche, still in its box.

'Take this,' she says, pressing it on him. 'And some tomatoes. They'll tide you over.'

'Oh no,' says Jack at once. 'Really, I couldn't-'

'I won't take no for an answer. I insist!'

'Well, that's truly kind.' Jack gives her a warm smile.

'You want some free career advice, Jack?' says Kerry, munching a piece of chicken.

My heart gives a nervous flip. Please, please don't try to get Jack to do the successful woman walk.

'Now, you want to listen to Kerry,' puts in Dad proudly. 'She's our star! She has her own company.'

'Is that so?' says Jack politely.

'My own travel agency,' says Kerry with a complacent smile. 'Started from scratch. Now we have forty staff and a turnover of just over two million. And you know what my secret is?'

'I ... have no idea,' says Jack.

Kerry leans forward and fixes him with her blue eyes.

'Golf.'

'Golf!' echoes Jack.

'Business is all about networking,' says Kerry. 'It's all about contacts. I'm telling you, Jack, I've met most of the top businesspeople in the country on the golf course. Take any company. Take this company.' She spreads her arm around the scene. 'I know the top guy here. I could call him up tomorrow if I wanted to.'

I stare at her, frozen in horror.

'Really?' says Jack, sounding riveted. 'Is that so?'

'Oh yes.' She leans forward confidentially. 'And I mean, the top guy.'

'The top guy,' echoes Jack. 'I'm impressed.'

'Perhaps Kerry could put in a good word for you, Jack!' exclaims Mum in sudden inspiration. 'You'd do that, wouldn't you, Kerry love?'

I would burst into hysterical laughter. If it wasn't so completely and utterly hideous.

'I guess I'll have to take up golf without delay,' says Jack. 'Meet the right people.' He raises his eyebrows at me. 'What do you think, Emma?'

I can barely talk. I am beyond embarra.s.sment. I just want to disappear into the rug and never be seen again.

'Mr Harper?' A voice interrupts and I breathe in relief. We all look up to see Cyril bending awkwardly down to Jack.

'I'm extremely sorry to interrupt, sir,' he says, glancing puzzledly around at my family as though trying to discern any reason at all why Jack Harper might be having a picnic with us. 'But Malcolm St John is here and would like a very brief word.'

'Of course,' says Jack, and smiles politely at Mum. 'If you could just excuse me a moment.'

As he carefully balances his gla.s.s on his plate and gets to his feet, the whole family exchanges confused glances.

'Giving him a second chance, then!' calls out Dad jocularly to Cyril.

'I'm sorry?' says Cyril, taking a couple of steps towards us.

'That chap Jack,' says Dad, gesturing to Jack, who's talking to a guy dressed in a navy blazer. 'You're thinking of taking him on again, are you?'

Cyril looks stiffly from Dad to me and back again.

'It's OK, Cyril!' I call lightly. 'Dad, shut up, OK?' I mutter. 'He owns the company.'

'What?' Everyone stares at me.

'He owns the company,' I say, my face hot. 'So just ... don't make any jokes about him.'

'The man in the jester's suit owns the company?' says Mum, looking in surprise at Cyril.

'No! Jack does! Or at least, some great big chunk of it.' They're all still looking completely blank. 'Jack's one of the founders of the Panther Corporation!' I hiss in frustration. 'He was just trying to be modest.'

'Are you saying that guy is Jack Harper?' says Nev in disbelief.

'Yes!'

There's a flabbergasted silence. As I look around, I see that a piece of chicken drumstick has fallen out of Kerry's mouth.

'Jack Harper the multimillionaire,' says Dad, just to make sure.

'Multimillionaire?' Mum looks totally confused. 'So ... does he still want the quiche?'

'Of course he doesn't want the quiche!' says Dad testily. 'What would he want a quiche for? He can buy a million b.l.o.o.d.y quiches!'

Mum's eye starts flicking around the picnic rug in slight agitation.

'Quick!' she says suddenly. 'Put the crisps into a bowl. There's one in the hamper-'

'They're fine as they are ...' I begin helplessly.

'Millionaires don't eat crisps from the packet!' she hisses. She plops the crisps in a plastic bowl and hastily starts straightening the rug. 'Brian! Crumbs on your beard!'