Authors: Sophie Kinsella
I hesitate for a moment – then tiptoe through the hall and press my ear to the door.
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Luke is saying. ‘Of
course
you’re our number-one priority. Sage … Listen, Sage … No one’s saying that, Sage …’
Yes! She’s obviously giving a brilliant show. Well, of course she is. She’s an actress.
‘Well, of course I can … 8
a.m.?
At Pinewood. OK, fine. I’ll see you there.’
There’s silence from the living room, and I wonder whether to tiptoe away, when I hear his voice again.
‘Bonnie? It’s Luke here. Just had Sage Seymour on the phone. I’m afraid she’s confirmed every suspicion I ever had. Nightmare woman. She’s insisting I come to her movie set first thing tomorrow.’ He pauses. ‘I don’t
know
why! This has come out of nowhere! She was talking gibberish about press statements and strategies, she seems totally self-obsessed, paranoid we’re not taking enough interest … Anyway, I’ll call you when I’m on my way back to the office.’ He lowers his voice, so I have to press even harder against the door to hear. ‘Thank goodness I didn’t tell Becky. Something told me to wait until we knew it was going to work out—’ He breaks off. ‘No! Of course I haven’t mentioned that to Becky yet. It’s only a possibility. We’ll cross that bridge when we need to.’
My ears prick up. What’s a possibility? What bridge?
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Bonnie. Thanks for that.’
Shit. He’s coming. I dart back to the kitchen, where of course the risotto has burned at the bottom of the pan. I’m briskly stirring the burnt bits into the rest when Luke comes in.
‘I’ve got an early start tomorrow, by the way,’ he says guardedly. ‘Seeing a client.’
‘Have some food, then.’ I put a plate down in front of him, like a perfect, unsuspicious wife. ‘Big day tomorrow. Your birthday, remember?’
‘Shit. Of course it is.’ Alarm briefly crosses his face. ‘Becky, you haven’t made any plans, have you? You know we’ve got this big company training programme? It’ll go on into the evening, I don’t know when I’ll be back …’
‘Of course.’ I manage an easy tone. ‘No worries! We’ll do something nice on Saturday.’
Oh God. I can’t cope. My mouth keeps twitching with faint hysteria and I feel as if thought bubbles must be floating above my head.
There’s a marquee outside the window! It’s your party tomorrow! We’re all in on the surprise except you!
I can’t believe he hasn’t guessed. I can’t believe I’ve kept it secret for this long. I feel like there’s only the thinnest curtain hiding everything in my brain and any minute he’ll sweep it aside and see the lot.
‘Becky …’ Luke is surveying me with a perplexed frown. ‘Is something up? Are you upset about something?’
‘What?’ I jump. ‘No! Nothing! Don’t be silly.’ I grab my glass of wine, take a swig, them beam at Luke as convincingly as I can. ‘Nothing’s up. It’s all good.’
Keep it together, Becky. Just keep it together. Less than twenty-four hours to go.
People Who Know About Parti
Me
Suze
Tarquin
Danny
Jess
Tom
Mum
Dad
Janice
Martin
Bonnie
Those three women who were listening at the next-door table
Gary
Janice’s plumber
Rupert
and
Harry at The Service
Erica
Marketing directors of Bollinger, Dom Perignon, Bacardi, Veuve Clicquot, Party Time Beverages, Jacob’s Creek, Kentish
English
Sparkling Wine
Cliff
Manicurist (I was so stressed out, I
had
to talk to someone,
and
she promised not to
blab)
165 invited guests (not
including
Brandon C lot)
500 readers of Style Central
Elinor
Ritz
waiter (I’m, sure he was listening)
Elinor’s staff (6)
Caterers (how many actually know? M
a
yb
e
only one or two?)
35 Brandon C staff
10,000 Brandon C contacts
97,578 users of You Tube. (In fact, 98, 4-71 – has just gone up)
1.8 million readers of Daily World
Total = 1,909,209
OK. Don’t panic. As long as they all keep quiet until tomorrow.
TWENTY
And suddenly it’s three clock on the day of the party. Less than
four
hours to go.
I haven’t sat down all day and my legs are aching and my wrist is stiff from clamping my phone to my ear … but we’re there. We’re really there. Everything’s in place and it all looks breathtaking. Everyone’s in position. The team-leaders have had their final meeting. Elinor’s in overdrive. She and Jess have become a sort of sub-team, ticking off lists and double-checking every detail obsessively together. In fact there’s a competitive spirit growing between them, as they locate all the glitches and find solutions as fast as possible, like crack party troubleshooters.
Jess keeps telling Elinor that she’s a talented woman, and she should come out to Chile and use her organizational skills for something
worthwhile
, and has she ever thought about voluntary work? To which Elinor just puts on that blank, stony expression. (I couldn’t help retorting to Jess yesterday: who says a
party
isn’t worthwhile?)
Luke is still with Sage on her movie set at Pinewood and she keeps sending me updates by text. Apparently everyone’s in on the secret, the whole cast and crew. They confiscated his new mobile phone as soon as he arrived, and plonked him on a director’s chair with earphones. When he got restless, they showed him around all the sets and trailers. Then they gave him lunch. Then Sage made up a load of stuff to complain about. Then they plonked him back on the director’s chair. Every time he tries to speak to her she says ‘Shh! I have to concentrate!’ or the director tells him off.
So basically, he’s taken care of until six o’clock. Then Bonnie is going to ring him and say she sent over a vital contract to the house by mistake and it needs signing today, so could he go and sign it and fax it to her? And the car will bring him back here. And I’ll greet him at the door. And then …
Every time I think about it I get goosebumps. I can’t wait. I can’t wait!
The caterers are scurrying about in Janice’s kitchen. The marquee is lit up like a spaceship. Janice’s garden is like a festival of bunting.
Now I just need to have a bath and do my nails and get Minnie ready …
‘Hello, Becky, love.’
Mum’s voice nearly makes me drop my cup of tea all over the floor. She must have let herself in without me hearing.
My stomach flips with apprehension as she comes into the room. I’m not ready for this. The only communication I’ve had with Mum has been cryptic back-and-forth texts during the last few days via Janice’s mobile.
It all kicked off when Janice asked Mum and Dad for drinks before the party, whereupon Mum replied that if her own daughter wasn’t going to invite her then she wasn’t going to come. Janice texted back that she was sure Mum
was
invited, didn’t she have an invitation? Mum replied touchily that she’d been
disinvited
. So I told Janice that Mum was only disinvited if she wanted to be. And Mum said that she wasn’t going to impose herself where she wasn’t welcome. Then Dad chipped in and rang Janice and said we were all being ridiculous. And that was kind of where it was left.
‘Oh.’ I swallow. ‘Hi, Mum. I thought you were still at The West Place. Where’s Dad?’
‘Outside, in the car. So, it’s the party tonight, I take it?’
Her voice sounds so stiff and hurt that I cringe, simultaneously feeling a bit resentful. She’s the one who’s been living it up with mud wraps and cocktails. How come
she
gets to be stiff and resentful?
‘Yes.’ I pause a moment, then add with a shrug, ‘You were right, by the way. It
was
all nearly a disaster. Turns out I couldn’t do it on my own.’
‘Love, no one ever said you had to do it on your own. And I’m sorry I said …’ Mum trails off awkwardly.
‘Well, I’m sorry too,’ I say, a bit stiffly. ‘I hope I don’t let you down tonight.’
‘I wasn’t aware that I was invited.’
‘Well … I wasn’t aware that you weren’t.’
We’re both standing at angles to each other, our chins averted. I’m not sure where we go from here.
‘Oh, love.’ Mum’s cool façade crumbles first. ‘Let’s not argue! I’m sorry I ever mentioned … you-know-who. Mr Wham! Club Tropicana fellow. Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.’
‘I know who you mean,’ I say hastily, before she does the whole of Wham! Rap.
‘I didn’t mean to put you down. I was just
anxious
for you, love.’
‘Mum, you don’t need to worry about me!’ I roll my eyes. ‘I’m a grown-up, remember? I’m twenty-nine. I’m a
mother.’
‘And
I’m
a mother!’ She claps a hand to her chest dramatically. ‘You wait, love! It doesn’t go away! Ever!’
Oh my God. Is that true? Am I still going to be stressing about Minnie when she’s twenty-nine and married?
No. No way. I’m nothing like Mum. I’ll be on a Caribbean cruise by then, having a good time.
‘Anyway,’ Mum’s saying, ‘Dad and I have done a lot of talking over the last few days, in the steam room and during massages …’
Honestly. Have my parents once made it out of the spa?
‘I can see why you might have felt you needed to mislead us about the house,’ Mum presses on, her face pink. ‘I’m sorry I overreacted, love. And I realize I’ve been a bit …
tense
, these last few weeks.’ She sighs gustily. ‘It’s just been a tricky time, what with all of us in the house … and the Cutting Back didn’t help …’
‘I know.’ Instantly I’m full of remorse. ‘And we’ve been so grateful to live here …’
‘You don’t need to feel grateful! This is your home, love!’
‘But even so, it was too long. No wonder we all got a bit tetchy. I’m sorry all our stuff stressed you out, and I’m sorry about fibbing …’ My cool façade has totally crumbled too. ‘And of
course
I want you to come to the party, if you want to.’
‘Of course I want to! Janice says it’s going to be wonderful. She says she’s doing touch-ups! She’s bought three extra tubes of Touche éclat!’
I
have
to talk to Janice.
‘It is going to be wonderful. Just wait.’ I can’t help bubbling over. ‘Wait till you see the birthday cake, Mum. And the
decorations.’
‘Oh, love, come here.’ Mum holds out her arms for a hug and squeezes me tight. ‘I’m
so
proud of you. I’m sure it’ll be wonderful! Janice says it’s a
Pride and Prejudice
theme now? Luke’ll look super as Mr Darcy! I’ve bought a bonnet and Dad’s got some breeches, and I’m going to curl my hair—’
‘What?’
I draw away. ‘It’s not bloody
Pride and Prejudice!
Where did
that
come from?’
‘Oh.’ Mum looks taken aback. ‘Well, I’m sure Janice said she was wearing that lovely blue dress from the am dram production …’
For God’s sake. Just because Janice is wearing her Mrs Bennet costume, suddenly the whole thing is
Pride and Prejudice?
‘It’s not
Pride and Prejudice
. And it’s
not
Japanese. So don’t get any ideas about kimonos.’
‘Well, what is it?
Is
there a theme?’
‘Kind of.’ I debate internally for a moment – then make a snap decision. ‘Come and see.’
I pull her into the kitchen, unlock my box file and pull out Danny’s drawings. ‘Here are the designs. Top secret. Don’t say a word to anybody.’
Mum peers at them uncertainly for a moment – then recognition flashes over her face.
‘Oh,
Becky
,’ she says at last. ‘Oh,
love.’
‘I know.’ I can’t help beaming. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’
It was me who insisted it should be an individual, bespoke party that would be more meaningful to Luke than to anybody else there. And it was me who came up with the actual idea. But to be truthful, it was Elinor who made all this happen. Elinor and her multi-million-dollar clout and her multimillion-dollar cheque book and her complete refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer.
‘But how on earth …’ Mum is leafing through the pages, looking stunned.
‘I’ve had help,’ I say vaguely. ‘Lots of help.’
The only people who know about EIinor’s involvement are Suze, Jess, Bonnie and Danny. Somehow Elinor’s managed to orchestrate everything from the background. As far as all the caterers and serving staff are concerned, I’m in charge and I’m paying for everything and I’m the boss. Even Janice has no idea.
Which is making me feel more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. I mean, Elinor has done so much. She should get the credit. But what can I do about it?
‘So what have you done with Luke?’ Mum looks around, as though I might have stuffed him in a cupboard.
‘He’s fine. He’s on a film set with this new client of his.’
‘Film set?’ Mum goggles.
‘Sssh! I’m not supposed to know about it! He’s being taken care of for another three hours.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Then he’s coming here and … surprise!’
‘And what are you going to wear, Becky love?’ Mum interrupts my thoughts, her eyes suddenly bright and inquisitive. ‘Have you bought something new?’
For a while I pretend I didn’t hear the question. I’ve been avoiding thinking about this.
‘Becky? Have you bought something?’
‘No,’ I say finally. ‘I haven’t. I’m going to pick something out of my wardrobe.’
‘Darling!’ Mum sounds astonished. ‘That’s not like you!’
‘I know.’ I sink down into a chair and pick at my nails, my spirits deflating a little. ‘But I couldn’t go shopping, could I? Not after I’d promised Luke.’
‘He didn’t mean for a
party
, surely. I mean, surely he’d make an exception—’
‘I didn’t want to risk it. You don’t understand, Mum, he’s taking it all really seriously. Nanny Sue said I’m a shopaholic,’ I add gloomily. ‘She said I need to go to boot camp or Minnie will turn into one too.’
‘What?’
Mum looks satisfactorily outraged. ‘What nonsense! Don’t listen to a word of it. Money-making charlatans, all of them. Boot camp sounds like “rip-off” to me. You’re not going to go, are you, love?’
I love Mum. She always says the right thing.
‘Dunno. Maybe. The point is, Luke totally believed her.’ I sigh. ‘And after all, it’s
his
birthday. It’s
his
day. How would I be making it his day by buying myself a new dress?’
I don’t want to admit to the scenario I’m secretly afraid of –which is that I organize a brilliant surprise party but then ruin it when he asks me how much my new shoes cost and we end up having a row.
‘So I’ve decided, Mum.’ I raise my head. ‘It’s something out of my wardrobe. I’m adamant.’
‘Well … good for you, love.’ She gives me an encouraging smile. ‘Tell you what, let’s go and look in your wardrobe right now. See what we can find. Chop, chop!’
As I follow her up the stairs, my feet are heavy. This is why I’ve been putting off the whole outfit moment. Everyone else will have a new dress tonight, even Minnie.
Anyway. Never mind. I made a promise and I have to make the best of it. It’s not like I don’t
have
any clothes.
‘So, did you have any ideas?’ says Mum as we enter the room. ‘What’s already in your wardrobe?’
‘Maybe my black lace dress?’ I’m trying to sound upbeat. ‘Or that blue dress I wore before Christmas? Or maybe—’ I open the wardrobe door and stop mid-stream. What’s that?
What’s that brand-new posh garment carrier from The Look, hanging right in the middle of my wardrobe? And why has it got a big red bow on it?
‘Open it!’ Mum says excitedly. ‘Go on!’
Shooting her looks of suspicion, I pull it open. I see a glimpse of sumptuous dark-green silk and inhale sharply.
No
. That can’t be—
I drag the zip all the way down, just to be sure … And it flows out of the garment carrier, like a deep-green glimmering river.
It’s the Valentino.
It’s the Valentino dress with the single jewelled shoulder which came into The Look a month ago. I must have tried it on about twenty times, but there’s no way I could
ever
afford it and—
I suddenly spot a gift card tied to the hanger and open it with scrabbling fingers.
To Becky. A little something for you to pick out of your wardrobe. With love from Mum and Dad
.
‘Mum.’ Tears have shot to my eyes and I blink furiously. ‘You shouldn’t. You
shouldn’t.’
‘It was Janice!’ Mum can’t contain herself any longer. ‘She told me you weren’t buying yourself anything new. Well, we couldn’t have that! Not our little Becky! And this way, it’s in your wardrobe! Do you see? Do you get it, love?’ She’s beside herself with triumph. ‘It’s already
in your wardrobe!
You’re keeping your promise to Luke!’
‘I get it, I do,’ I say, half-laughing, half-tearfully. ‘But Mum, this is Valentino! It costs a fortune!’
‘Well, it wasn’t nothing!’ Mum sucks in her breath. ‘You know, Wendy’s Boutique in Oxshott does
very
reasonable evening dresses and I do sometimes wonder why you girls—’
She breaks off at my expression. We’ve disagreed about Wendy’s Boutique many times, over the years.
‘Anyway. I asked your nice colleague Jasmine what I should get and she suggested this dress at once.
And
she gave it to me at the discount staff rate, with another big discount for damage!’ she ends in triumph.
‘Damage?’ I peer at it. ‘It’s not damaged!’
‘She snipped the hem,’ says Mum conspiratorially. ‘She’s clever, that one. And then all your nice friends rallied round and chipped in. So it’s from them, too.’
‘What friends?’ I’m not following this at all. ‘You mean Jasmine?’
‘No! All your shopping friends. Your clients! They were all there, you know. They signed a card, too. Where is it?’ She starts to root around in her bag. ‘Here we are.’
She presents me with a plain Smythson card, on which someone has scrawled: ‘Have a great time tonight, Becky, and see you back at The Look VERY SOON! With all our love from Davina, Chloe and all your loyal friends.’
Underneath are about twenty more signatures, and I read them in growing bewilderment.