Mini Shopaholic

‘Don’t worry, Becky.’ He smiles. ‘I’m not going to give the game away. If they want to stay incognito, so be it. But if somebody goes to all the trouble of doing something as exceptional and special as this …’ His face is shining. ‘They deserve a public thank-you. Don’t you agree?’

My heart is tying itself into knots. He should know what his mother did for him. He should know, he should know.

‘Come on, Minnie, Daddy needs to make a little speech.’ Before I can react, Luke is striding into the East Hall. ‘Suze?’ He beckons to her cheerfully as he passes. ‘Could you come in here a moment? And Tarquin?’

‘What’s going on?’ Suze says as she follows us in. ‘What’s Luke doing?’

‘He thinks it was all you,’ I mutter under my breath. ‘You and Tarkie. He thinks you fixed Sir Bernard and paid for all this. Now he wants to say thank you.’

‘You’re joking!’ Suze stops dead, her eyes dark and troubled. ‘But … we didn’t!’

‘I know! But how can I tell him that?’

For a moment we just stare at each other anxiously.

‘Does Luke suspect Elinor had anything to do with it?’ says Suze at last.

‘Nothing. He hasn’t mentioned her once.’

He’s mentioned everyone else in the world. All his family. All his friends. He toasted them all in his speech. But not her.

Luke has already bounded up on stage between songs and the lead singer of the band has handed the microphone to him.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, just a moment, if I may?’ Luke’s voice booms around the room. ‘There’ve been many thankyous tonight. But I just want to draw attention to one very, very special couple. They have opened this beautiful house to us, provided us with stunning hospitality … and much, much more besides, which I won’t go into here …’ He pauses meaningfully and I can see Tarquin darting a puzzled look at Suze. ‘But please know, Suze and Tarquin, I will never forget what you did. To the Cleath-Stuarts.’ Luke raises his glass, and all the guests on the dance-floor echo him, then break into applause.

Suze is trying to smile charmingly as people turn to her, applauding.

‘I feel terrible,’ she murmurs desperately through her smiles. ‘What about Elinor?’

‘It was her choice,’ I murmur back. ‘There’s nothing we can do.’

I think of EIinor speeding home through the night, shoulders rigid. With no one toasting her, no one smiling at her, no one even giving her a passing thought. And suddenly I make a silent vow to myself.

Luke’ll know one day. He’ll know one day.

‘Give us “New York, New York”!’ someone yells at Luke, and the room breaks into laughter.

‘No chance.’ Luke flashes a smile and hands the microphone back to the lead singer, who immediately counts the band into a new song.

‘Suze, darling.’ Tarquin has made it over to us, looking perplexed. ‘What on earth was Luke—’

‘Just thanking us for being good friends,’ she says brightly. ‘You know.’

‘Ah.’ Tarquin’s brow clears. ‘Generous chap.’ He has an ancient school name-tape poking out of his dinner jacket, I suddenly notice. It says ‘W. F. S. Cleath-Stuart’. Which is his father.

‘Tarkie.’ I beckon him over. ‘Piece of fluff.’ I push the name-tape back inside his collar and wink at Suze, who just shakes her head with a rueful grin.

We watch as Luke threads his way slowly through the throng, chatting and nodding to people as he goes. As he pauses to talk to Matt from Brandon C, I suddenly notice Minnie reaching for Matt’s cocktail glass and putting it to her lips. Matt hasn’t even noticed.

‘Minnie!’ I charge forward and grab it. ‘No! You don’t drink cocktails! Luke, did you see what she did?’

Once upon a time, Luke would have hit the roof. Now he just swings her up and frowns at her mock-sternly.

‘Come on, Minnie. Don’t you know the rules? No gambling and no drinking. Got it? And no online shopping. Not till you’re at least … three.’

‘Happy Daddy!’ Minnie pokes him with a glittery cocktail umbrella.

‘Now, you go to Grana for a minute.’ He puts her down and shepherds her towards Mum. ‘I just need to have a little chat with Mummy.’ As he leads me off the dance-floor I feel a bit surprised. What does he need to chat about?

It’s not the Valentino dress, surely. It can’t be. I’ve told him it was a present from Mum.

‘I was going to leave this till later,’ he begins as we reach a quiet spot in the Midsummer Night’s Dream glade. ‘But why not now?’