'Her name is Alice.' He gives a tiny smile. 'She's four years old.'

He has a wife and a whole family I don't know about, and that's his secret. I knew it, I knew it.

'You ...' I lick my dry lips. 'You have a child?'

'No, I don't have a child.' Jack stares at the ground for a few seconds, then looks up. 'Pete had a child. He had a daughter. Alice is Pete Laidler's child.'

'But ... but ...' I stare at him in confusion. 'But ... I never knew Pete Laidler had a child.'

'n.o.body knows.' He gives me a long look. 'That's the whole idea.'

This is so completely and utterly not what I was expecting.

A child. Pete Laidler's secret child.

'But ... but how can n.o.body know about her?' I say stupidly. We've moved even further away from the crowds and are sitting on a bench under a tree. 'I mean surely they'd see her.'

'Pete was a great guy.' Jack sighs. 'But commitment was never his strong suit. By the time Marie that's Alice's mom found out she was pregnant, they weren't even together any more. Marie's one of those proud, defensive types. She was determined to do everything on her own. Pete supported her financially but he wasn't interested in the child. He didn't even tell anybody he'd become a father.'

'Even you?' I stare at him. 'You didn't know he had a child?'

'Not until after he died.' His face closes up slightly. 'I loved Pete. But that, I find very hard to forgive. So a few months after he died, Marie turns up with this baby.' Jack exhales sharply. 'Well. You can imagine how we all felt. Shocked is an understatement. But Marie was positive she didn't want anyone to know. She wanted to bring Alice up just like a normal kid, not as Pete Laidler's love child. Not as the heiress to some huge fortune.'

My mind is boggling. A four-year-old getting Pete Laidler's share of the Panther Corporation. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

'So she gets everything?' I say hesitantly.

'Not everything, no. But a lot. Pete's family have been more than generous. And that's why Marie's keeping her away from the public eye.' He spreads his hands. 'I know we can't shield her for ever. It'll come out sooner or later. But when they find out about her, the press will go nuts. She'll shoot to the top of the rich lists ... the other kids will give her a hard time ... she won't be normal any more. Some kids could cope. But Alice ... she's not one of them. She has asthma, she's kind of frail.'

As he's speaking, my mind is filled with memories of the papers after Pete Laidler died. Every single one had a picture of him on the front page.

'I'm overprotective of this child.' Jack gives a rueful smile. 'I know it. Even Marie tells me I am. But ... she's precious to me.' He stares ahead for a moment. 'She's all we've got left of Pete.'

I gaze at him, suddenly feeling moved.

'So, is that what the phone calls were about?' I say tentatively. 'Is that why you had to leave the other night?'

Jack sighs. 'They were both in a road accident a few days ago. It wasn't serious. But ... we're extra-sensitive, after Pete. We just wanted to make sure they got the right treatment.'

'Right,' I give a little wince. 'I can understand that.'

There's silence for a while. My brain is trying to slot all the pieces together. Trying to work it all out.

'But I don't understand,' I say. 'Why did you make me keep it a secret that you'd been in Scotland? n.o.body would know, surely.'

Jack rolls his eyes ruefully.

'That was my own dumb stupid fault. I'd told some people I was going across to Paris that day, just as an extra precaution. I took an anonymous flight. I thought no-one would ever know. Then I walk into the office ... and there you are.'

'Your heart sank.'

'Not exactly.' He meets my eyes. 'It didn't quite know which way to go.'

I feel a sudden colour coming to my cheeks and awkwardly clear my throat.

'So ... er ...' I say, looking away. 'So that's why ...'

'All I wanted was to avoid you piping up, "Hey, he wasn't in Paris, he was in Scotland!" and start some huge intrigue going.' Jack shakes his head. 'You'd be amazed at the ludicrous theories people will put together when they don't have anything better to do. You know, I've heard it all. I'm planning to sell the company ... I'm gay ... I'm in the Mafia ...'

'Er ... really?' I say, and smooth down a strand of hair. 'Gosh. How stupid of people!'

A couple of girls wander nearby, and we both fall silent for a while.

'Emma, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this before,' Jack says in a low voice. 'I know you were hurt. I know it felt like I was shutting you out. But ... it's just not something you share lightly.'

'No!' I say immediately. 'Of course you couldn't have done. I was stupid.'

I scuff my toe awkwardly on the gravel, feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have known it would be something important. When he said it was complicated and sensitive, he was just telling the truth.

'Only a handful of people know about this.' Jack meets my eyes gravely. 'A handful of special, trusted people.'

There's something in his gaze which makes my throat feel a bit tight. I stare back at him, feeling blood rising in my cheeks.

'Are you going in?' comes a bright voice. We jump, and look up to see a woman in black jeans approaching. 'The performance is about to start!' she says with a beam.

I feel like she's slapped me awake from a dream.

'I ... I have to go and watch Lissy dancing,' I say dazedly.

'Right. Well, I'll leave you then. That was really all I had to say.' Slowly Jack gets to his feet, then turns back. 'There's one more thing.' He looks at me for a few silent moments. 'Emma, I realize these last few days can't have been easy for you. You have been the model of discretion throughout, whereas I ... have not. And I just wanted to apologize. Again.'

'That's ... that's OK,' I manage.

Jack turns again, and I watch him walking slowly away over the gravel, feeling completely torn.

He came all the way here to tell me his secret. His big, precious secret.

He didn't have to do that.

Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d ...

'Wait!' I hear myself calling out, and Jack immediately turns. 'Would you ... would you like to come too?' And I feel a ripple of pleasure as his face creases into a smile.

As we crunch over the gravel together, I pluck up the courage to speak.

'Jack, I've got something to say too. About ... about what you were just saying. I know I said you ruined my life the other day.'

'I remember,' says Jack wryly.

'Well, I may possibly have been wrong about that.' I clear my throat awkwardly. 'In fact ... I was wrong.' I look at him frankly. 'Jack, you didn't ruin my life.'

'I didn't?' says Jack. 'Do I get another shot?'

In spite of myself, a giggle rises inside me.

'No!'

'No? Is that your final answer?'

As he looks at me there's a bigger question in his eyes, and I feel a little shaft, half hope, half apprehension. For a long while neither of us says anything. I'm breathing rather fast.

Suddenly Jack's gaze falls with interest on my hand. 'I am over Jack,' he reads aloud.

f.u.c.k.

My entire face flames with colour.

I am never writing anything on my hand again. Ever.

'That's just ...' I clear my throat again. 'That was just a doodle ... it didn't mean ...'

A shrill ring from my mobile interrupts me. Thank G.o.d. Whoever this is, I love them. I hastily pull it out and press green.

'Emma, you're going to love me for ever!' come Jemima's piercing tones.

'What?' I stare at the phone.

'I've sorted everything out for you!' she says triumphantly. 'I know, I'm a total star, you don't know what you'd do without me-'

'What?' I feel a twinge of alarm. 'Jemima, what are you talking about?'

'Getting your revenge on Jack Harper, silly! Since you were just sitting there like a total wimp, I've taken matters into my own hands.'

For moment I can't quite move.

'Er, Jack ... excuse me a minute.' I shoot him a bright smile. 'I just need to ... take this call.'

With trembling legs I hurry to the corner of the courtyard, well away from earshot.

'Jemima, you promised you wouldn't do anything!' I hiss. 'You swore on your Miu Miu ponyskin bag, remember?'

'I haven't got a Miu Miu ponyskin bag!' she crows triumphantly. 'I've got a Fendi ponyskin bag!'

She's mad. She's completely mad.

'Jemima, what have you done?' I manage. 'Tell me what you've done.'

My heart is thudding in apprehension. Please don't say she's sc.r.a.ped his car. Please.

'An eye for an eye, Emma! That man totally betrayed you, and we're going to do the same to him. Now, I'm sitting here with a very nice chap called Mick. He's a journalist, he writes for the Daily World ...'

My blood runs cold.

'A tabloid journalist?' I manage at last. 'Jemima, are you insane?'

'Don't be so narrow-minded and suburban,' retorts Jemima reprovingly. 'Emma, tabloid journalists are our friends. They're just like private detectives ... but for free! Mick's done loads of work for Mummy before. He's marvellous at tracking things down. And he's very interested in finding out Jack Harper's little secret. I've told him all we know, but he'd like to have a word with you.'

I feel quite faint. This cannot be happening.

'Jemima, listen to me,' I say in quick, low tones, as though trying to persuade a lunatic down off the roof. 'I don't want to find out Jack's secret, OK? I just want to forget it. You have to stop this guy.'

'I won't!' she says like a petulant six-year-old. 'Emma, don't be so pathetic! You can't just let men walk all over you and do nothing in return. You have to show them. Mummy always says-' There's the sudden screeching of tyres. 'Oops! Tiny prang. I'll call you back.'

The phone goes dead.

I am numb with horror.

Frantically I jab her number into my phone, but it clicks straight on to messages.

'Jemima,' I say as soon as it beeps. 'Jemima, you have to stop this! You have to-' I stop abruptly as Jack appears in front of me, with a warm smile.

'It's about to start,' he says, and gives me a curious look. 'Everything all right?'

'Fine,' I say in a strangled voice, and put my phone away. 'Everything's ... fine.'

TWENTY-FIVE.

As I walk into the auditorium I'm almost lightheaded with panic.

What have I done? What have I done?

I have given away Jack's most precious secret in the world to a morally warped, revenge-wreaking, Prada-wearing nutcase.

OK. Just calm down, I tell myself for the zillionth time. She doesn't actually know anything. This journalist probably won't find out anything. I mean, what facts does he actually have?

But what if he does find out? What if he somehow stumbles on the truth? And Jack discovers it was me who pointed them in the right direction?

I feel ill at the thought. My stomach is curdling. Why did I ever mention Scotland to Jemima? Why?

New resolution: I am never giving away a secret again. Never, ever, ever. Even if it doesn't seem important. Even if I am feeling angry.

In fact ... I am never talking again, full stop. All talking ever seems to do is get me into trouble. If I hadn't opened my mouth on that stupid plane in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess now.