Mini Shopaholic
OK, Becky. Stay calm. He’ll turn up.
‘Right,’ I announce to the assembled group. ‘Oxshott, we have a major problem. Luke has gone AWOL. Now, I’ve drawn a map.’ I point to my hastily constructed flip chart. ‘These are the directions he might have gone in from Pinewood Studios. I think we probably can rule out north …’
‘Ooh!’ Suze suddenly exclaims, looking at her phone. ‘Tarkie says one of the Royal Family has seen the YouTube clips and wants to send Luke a happy birthday text. They’re out shooting together,’ she explains bashfully as everyone looks at her, agog.
‘Which member?’ Janice clasps her hands. ‘Not Prince William!’
‘Tarkie didn’t say. It might be Prince Michael of Kent,’ Suze adds apologetically.
‘Oh.’ Everyone subsides a little in disappointment.
‘Or David Linley?’ Janice perks up. ‘I do love his furniture, but have you seen the prices?’
‘Stop it!’ I wave my arms frustratedly. ‘Focus! Who cares about furniture? This is an emergency. First, we need a lookout stationed outside, so if Luke comes back here we can head him off. Second, we need to think hard where he might have gone. Third—’
‘Your phone,’ says Mum suddenly. My BlackBerry is vibrating on the table, with a central London number I don’t recognize.
‘It might be him!’ says Dad.
‘Ssh!’
‘Quiet!’
‘Put him on speaker!’
‘No!’
‘Everyone quiet!’
It’s as though the terrorist kidnapper is on the line after days of waiting. Everyone goes quiet and watches as I answer.
‘Hello?’
‘Becky?’ Luke’s voice is unmistakable. And relaxed. Doesn’t he realize how stressed we’ve all been?
‘Keep him talking!’ hisses Mum as though she’s a federal agent trying to triangulate his position.
‘Hi, Luke! Where are you? At the office?’
That was good. Play completely ignorant.
‘As it happens, no. I’m at the Berkeley Hotel.’ There’s a smile in his voice. ‘And I want to invite you and Minnie to join me for a little birthday celebration. If you’re up for it.’
What-what-what-what-what?
I sink down on to a chair, my legs rubbery, trying to block out all the questioning faces around me.
‘What do you mean?’ I falter at last.
If he has arranged his own birthday party without telling me, I will murder him. I mean it.
‘Darling, I could tell you were disappointed last night when I said I’d be at the training progamme,’ he’s saying. ‘I could see it in your face.’
No I wasn’t! I want to yell. I wasn’t! You’re all wrong!
‘Oh yes?’ I manage.
‘And it got me thinking. It’s my birthday! Fuck it, we should celebrate. We’ve got through a hell of a year and we deserve a treat. Let’s meet up, the three of us, have some dinner, drink some champagne … then we can put Minnie to bed next door and see about making her a little sibling.’ His voice is as seductive and teasing as I’ve ever heard it. ‘What do you think? I’ve ordered the champagne already.’
I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Any other time, I would die and go to heaven to hear this invitation. Any other bloody time.
‘Right,’ I say weakly. ‘Well … that sounds wonderful! Just … hang on a minute …’
I clamp my hand over the phone and look desperately round at everybody.
‘He wants me to come to a hotel room and drink champagne! For his birthday!’
‘But it’s the party!’ says Janice, who is clearly out to get the Most Obvious Comment prize.
‘I know it’s the party!’ I say, almost savagely. ‘But how can I say no without looking suspicious?’
‘Do both?’ says Suze. ‘Champagne, celebrate, whatever, whizz back here?’
I think it through frantically.
Champagne. Food. Sex.
We could get it done in … half an hour? Forty minutes max? We’d still be back in good time.
‘Yes.’ I come to a decision. ‘I’ll go up there, play along and bring him back as quickly as I can.’
‘Don’t hang around, love.’ Janice looks anxious.
‘Traffic can get nasty this time of day,’ Martin chips in. ‘I’d grab him and go.’
‘Can I leave Minnie with you, Mum?’
‘Of course, love!’
‘OK.’ I take a deep breath and turn to the phone again, trying to sound as syrupy as possible. ‘Hi Luke. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But without Minnie. Mum’s here and she’s going to babysit. I think we need to be à deux, don’t you?’