The Fantastic Book of Everybody's Secrets by Sophie Hannah Page A

it continued to grow, Tom was able to feel like a man who could do serious damage if he chose to. He was aware of the steaming bile inside him all the time, energising him, like a hearty dose of steroids. Every time he bumped into Gillian Bate by the water machine and told her he was fine, everything was fine, he felt like David pulling back his catapult, ready to launch a hefty rock at Goliath’s head. And not launching it was the whole point, for once the rock lay on the floor at Gillian’s feet, once she’d looked down, sniggered at it and stepped over it on her way to her next meeting, it would all be over for Tom.
    As he sat at his desk and fumed, he had an unusual idea, the sort of idea that, it seemed to Tom, only a person with some flair would have. He’d had lots of flair once, before his colleagues and bosses at Phelps Corcoran Cummings had underestimated it out of him. Beneath ‘To: [email protected]’ , in the ‘cc’ box, he entered Gillian Bate’s email address, and Gilbert Sparling’s. Then, in the larger box below, he typed:
    Thank you for your kind letter. I am perfectly all right, and thank you for asking. I was busy working from home last Thursday and I didn’t want to interrupt my work, which was why I asked Ruth to send me the Burns Gimblett files. I hope you are not unwell yourself. I noticed that on Monday and Tuesday last week you were out of the office for two hours at lunchtime on each day. Since this was somuch longer than the lunch hour we are all in the habit of taking, I was a bit concerned, and then when I saw you at the division meeting on Wednesday, I couldn’t help noticing that you were looking a bit peaky. I hope that my concern is unfounded and that you are in good health, but do let me know if there is a problem, as obviously I would be happy to help in any way I can.
    All the best, Tom
    He clicked on ‘Send’, then did a little dance of glee. He felt wonderful. Who wanted to be direct and assertive when there was so much fun to be had by being devious and double-edged ? But now he had a decision to make: what to say if Gillian asked why he’d copied the email to her. Simple: he would say that, since Nora had sent Gillian a copy of her original letter, it seemed only polite to include her in the reply. Tom was fairly sure he would hear nothing from Gilbert Sparling. Sparling, the MD, was a billionaire who divided his time between Geneva and South Beach, Florida. He was never in the office, and noone Tom knew had ever met him. Hopefully Sparling would be too busy staring at crocodiles through the floor of his glass-bottomed boat, or drinking Kir Royales on the beach with famous fashion designers, to pay any attention to Tom.
    Still, if anybody did ask about his email, Tom could dishonestly – and, therefore, all the more convincingly – say that he’d simply been replying to Nora’s letter, and had taken the opportunity to raise his concern about her health. Straightforwardness was what terrified him, and this was far from straightforward.
    Nora looked rough most of the time. In the meeting Tom had mentioned, when people had disagreed with one another and Nora, as the most senior person present, was expected to take a firm line, she had looked as if she were writhing in pain, as if demons were clawing at the walls of her stomach. To say ‘You’re right, you’re wrong, that’s settled’ was way too directfor Nora. She wouldn’t last five minutes as an assistant at Lucy’s nursery, thought Tom. Neither, he conceded, would he.
    He pictured the panic on Nora’s face when she realised her extra-long lunches had been rumbled, and for an instant his soul was bathed in joy. He tried to focus on the other messages and letters that needed his attention, but it was no use; he was feeling too sprightly and triumphant to sit at his desk and work, so he decided to go to the show home and