'Fine, thanks.'
'Anything you'd like to … talk about?' To my surprise he looks as if he genuinely means it.
But honestly. What does he think? That I'm going to go in there and sob on his shoulder, 'That bastard Jack Harper used me'?
I'll only do that if I get really, really desperate.
'No,' I say, my face prickling. 'Thanks, but I'm OK.'
'Good.' He pauses, then adopts a more businesslike tone. 'Now, I'm assuming that when you disappeared yesterday, it was because you'd decided to work from home.'
'Er … yes.' I clear my throat. 'That's right.'
'No doubt you got lots of useful tasks done?'
'Er … yes. Loads.'
'Excellent. Just what I thought. All right, then, carry on. And the rest of you.' Paul looks around the office warningly. 'Remember what I said.'
'Of course,' says Artemis at once. 'We all remember!'
Paul disappears into his office again, and I stare rigidly at my computer as it warms up. It'll be fine, I tell myself. I'll just concentrate on my work, completely immerse myself …
Suddenly I become aware that someone's humming a tune, quite loudly. It's something I recognize. It's …
It's the Carpenters.
And now a few others around the room are joining in on the chorus.
'Close to yoooou …'
'All right, Emma?' says Nick, as my head jerks up suspiciously. 'D'you want a hanky?'
'Close to yoooou …' everybody trills in unison again, and I hear muffled laughter.
I'm not going to react. I'm not going to give them the pleasure.
As calmly as possible I click onto my emails, and give a small gasp of shock. I normally get about ten emails every morning, if that. Today I have ninety-five.
Dad: I'd really like to talk …
Carol: I've already got two more people for our Barbie Club!
Moira: I know where you can get really comfy G-strings …
Sharon: So how long has this been going on?!!
Fiona: Re: the body awareness workshop …
I scroll down the endless list and suddenly feel a stabbing in my heart.
There are three from Jack.
What should I do?
Should I read them?
My hand hovers uncertainly over my mouse. Does he deserve at least a chance to explain?
'Oh Emma,' says Artemis innocently, coming over to my desk with a carrier bag. 'I've got this jumper I wondered if you'd like. It's a bit too small for me, but it's very nice. And it should fit you, because —' she pauses, and catches Caroline's eye — 'it's a size eight.'
Immediately both of them erupt into hysterical giggles.
'Thanks, Artemis,' I say shortly. 'That's really sweet of you.'
'I'm off for a coffee,' says Fergus, standing up. 'Anybody want anything?'
'Make mine a Harvey's Bristol Cream,' says Nick brightly.
'Ha ha,' I mutter under my breath.
'Oh Emma, I meant to say,' Nick adds, sauntering over to my desk. 'That new secretary in Admin. Have you seen her? She's quite something, isn't she?'
He winks at me and I stare at him blankly for a moment, not understanding.
'Nice spiky haircut,' he adds. 'Nice dungarees.'
'Shut up!' I cry furiously, my face flaming red. 'I'm not a … I'm not … Just fuck off, all of you!'
My hand trembling with anger, I swiftly delete each and every one of Jack's emails. He doesn't deserve anything. No chance. Nothing.
I rise to my feet and stride out of the room, breathing hard. I head for the ladies' room, slam the door behind me, and rest my hot forehead on the mirror. Hatred for Jack Harper is bubbling through me like lava. Does he have any idea what I'm going through? Does he have any idea what he's done to me?
'Emma!' A voice interrupts my thoughts and I give a start. Immediately I feel a jolt of apprehension.
Katie has come into the Ladies without me hearing. She's standing right behind me, holding her makeup bag. Her face is reflected in the mirror next to mine … and she isn't smiling. It's just like Fatal Attraction.
'So,' she says in a strange voice. 'You don't like crochet.'
Oh God. Oh God. What have I done? I've unleashed the bunny-boiler side of Katie that no-one's ever seen before. Maybe she'll impale me with a crochet needle, I find myself thinking wildly.
'Katie,' I say, my heart thumping hard. 'Katie, please listen. I never meant … I never said …'
'Emma, don't even try.' She lifts her hand. 'There's no point. We both know the truth.'
'He was wrong!' I say quickly. 'He got confused! I meant I don't like … um … crèches. You know, all those babies everywhere—'
'You know, I was pretty upset yesterday,' Katie cuts me off with an eerie smile. 'But after work I went straight home, and I called my mum. And do you know what she said to me?'
'What?' I say apprehensively.
'She said … she doesn't like crochet either.'
'What?' I wheel round and gape at her.
'And neither does my granny.' Her face flushes, and now she looks like the old Katie again. 'Or any of my relatives. They've all been pretending for years, just like you. It all makes sense now!' Her voice rises in agitation. 'You know, I made my granny a whole sofa cover last Christmas, and she told me that burglars had stolen it. But I mean, what kind of burglars steal a crochet sofa cover?'
'Katie, I don't know what to say …'
'Emma, why couldn't you have told me before? All that time. Making stupid presents that people didn't want.'
'Oh God, Katie, I'm sorry!' I say, filled with remorse. 'I'm so sorry. I just … didn't want to hurt you.'
'I know you were trying to be kind. But I feel really stupid now.'
'Yes, well. That makes two of us,' I say, a little morosely.
The door opens, and Wendy from Accounts comes in. There's a pause as she stares at us both, opens her mouth, closes it again, then disappears into one of the cubicles.