Shopaholic to the Rescue (12 page)

“Really?” I say with a flicker of optimism. “Do you think so?”

I can actually picture us as old ladies. Suze will have long white hair and an elegant walking stick and still be stunningly beautiful, just with a few lines. And I won’t be beautiful but I’ll wear great accessories. People will call me the Old Lady in the Fabulous Necklace.

“Don’t give up on Suze,” Luke is saying. “You need her. And she needs you, even if she doesn’t realize it right now.”

“But all she can see is Alicia,” I say hopelessly.

“Yes, and one day she’ll focus properly and see exactly who and what Alicia is,” says Luke drily as he jabs the elevator button. “Meanwhile, remember you
are
still her friend. She asked you to come on this trip. Don’t let Alicia psych you out.”

“OK,” I say in a small voice.

“I mean it, Becky,” Luke insists, almost fiercely. “Are you going to let Alicia walk all over you? Fight for your friendship. Because it’s worth it.”

He sounds so forceful, I can feel a tiny smidgen of positivity returning.

“OK,” I say at last. “OK. I’ll do it.”

“Attagirl.”

By now we’ve reached our hotel room. Luke takes out the key, swipes it, and pushes open the door—and I freeze dead in shock. Wh—

Whaaat?

“Good evening, Rebecca, Luke,” comes a familiar icy voice.

—

OK, am I dreaming? Or did I have too many margaritas? This
can’t
be true.

But I think it is. Elinor, my mother-in-law, is sitting bolt upright on a pouf in a DVF wrap dress, gazing at me with that gimlet stare she has.

“Mother!” Luke sounds equally shocked. “What are you
doing
here?”

I feel an inward wince as I glance up at his face. The relationship between Luke and his mother has never been straightforward, but recently it’s plummeted to a new low. Two days ago, in L.A., I staged the least successful mother-son reconciliation ever. Luke stalked out. Elinor stalked out. My dreams of being a Kofi-Annan–style conflict-resolver kind of disintegrated. I know Luke’s been feeling raw ever since. And now, with no warning, here she is.

“Elinor came to my rescue!” says Mum dramatically, from where she’s sitting on the sofa with Janice. “I had no one else to turn to, so I rang her up!”

No one else to turn to? What’s she talking about? She’s got a whole RV full of people.

“Mum,” I say cautiously. “That’s not true. You’ve got me, Suze, Luke—”

“I needed someone influential!” Mum waves her wineglass at me. “Since Luke
refused
to use his contacts…”

“Jane,” says Luke. “I’m not sure what you expected me to do—”

“I expected you to pull out all the stops! Elinor couldn’t have been more helpful.
She
understands. Don’t you, Elinor?”

“But we’ve found Dad!” I expostulate. “We’ve tracked him down!”

“Well, I didn’t know that when I rang Elinor, did I?” says Mum, unabashed. “She came rushing here to help. But, then, she’s a
true
friend.”

This is insane. Mum barely
knows
Elinor. It’s not as though we’re one of those big happy families that blend together and have one another on speed-dial. As far as I know, our basic family arrangement, to date, is as follows:

Elinor looks down on Mum and Dad (too suburban).

Mum resents Elinor (too snooty).

Dad quite likes Elinor but thinks she’s a stiff old stick (fair point).

Luke and Elinor are barely talking.

Minnie loves everyone, especially “Grana” (Mum) and “Lady” (Elinor). But she’s asleep in bed, so she’s not much help.

So. Nowhere in this scenario is
Mum and Elinor are best friends.
In fact, I didn’t even know Mum had Elinor’s number. As I glance at Luke, I see a darkening frown on his face.

“What are you expecting my mother to do?” he says flatly.

“We’re going out now, to discuss the situation,” says Mum. “She’s never been to Las Vegas before and neither have we, so we’re going to have a ladies’ night out.”

“Girl power!” chimes in Janice eagerly.

“You look nice, Elinor.” I can’t help adding my bit. “Lovely dress.”

It was me who suggested that Elinor wear a wrap dress instead of her endless stiff suits. And, look, she’s taken my advice again! She’s in a black-and-white print dress, which fits her perfectly—I think she must have had this one altered—and makes her look so much more feminine. Next I’m going to suggest layering her hair. (One thing at a time, though.)

I can tell Luke is pissed off with Mum, although he’s trying to hide it.

“Mother,” he says. “Please don’t feel you have to be dragged into this. It was inappropriate of Jane to call you.”

“
Inappropriate
?” retorts Mum. “Elinor’s family, aren’t you, Elinor?”

“She’s been in ill health recently,” says Luke. “The last thing she needs is to be drawn into some family drama. Mother…” He turns to Elinor. “If you haven’t already eaten, I suggest the two of us go out for a late dinner. Becky, you don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” I say hurriedly. “Not at all. You go.”

“Because the truth is…” Luke sounds awkward as he addresses Elinor. “Well, the fact is, I didn’t behave well the other night. And I’d like to make it up to you. I think we need an opportunity to build bridges….” Luke pauses, rubbing his neck, and I know he’s finding this hard, especially in front of everyone. “And I have some apologizing to do. Please let me start with dinner.”

“I appreciate your words, Luke,” says Elinor after a stiff little pause. “Thank you. I think, if you are willing, that we could…” She seems just as awkward as Luke. “We could…draw a line under the past and begin again?”

I catch my breath and glance at Luke. I can’t quite believe I’m hearing the words “draw a line
”
and “begin again.” They’re making up! Finally! Hopefully they’ll have a lovely long bonding dinner and talk it through and everything will be different from now on.

“Wonderful!” Luke’s face breaks into a relieved smile. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Why don’t I book us a table, we’ll have dinner, maybe talk about that holiday in the Hamptons we were planning—”

“I haven’t finished,” Elinor interrupts. “I appreciate your words, Luke, and I would like to put our past difficulties behind us. But I have decided that tonight…” She pauses. “I will go out with Jane and Janice.”

My jaw actually drops. Elinor and Mum? Out together? In Las Vegas?

“That’s right.” Mum pats Elinor’s shoulder. “You come and have fun with us.”

“Girl power!” exclaims Janice again. Her cheeks are pink, and I wonder how many mini-bottles of wine she’s had.

“You want to go out with
them
? Not
me
?” asks Luke, as though he can’t believe it.

To be fair, it is quite unbelievable. When Elinor first met my family, she was so snobby, she behaved as though all the Bloomwoods had some sort of plague.

“Jane has some photographs of Minnie she has promised to show me,” says Elinor. “I should like to see her babyhood. I missed so much of it.”

Her eyes flicker as though with some distant emotion, and I feel an uncomfortable twinge. Poor Elinor has been on the outskirts of this family for too long.

“Quite right, Elinor! You have a look through my iPhone and I’ll send you any piccies you like,” says Mum, pulling on her jacket and standing up. “You could make a collage for your kitchen. Or…I know! You like jigsaws, don’t you? Well, then, have a jigsaw made of a picture of Minnie! They’ll do it at Snappy Snaps.”

“A jigsaw?” Elinor frowns thoughtfully. “A jigsaw of Minnie’s likeness. What a good idea.”

“Oh, I’m full of good ideas.” Mum starts bustling her to the door. “Come on! Ready, Janice? Elinor, have you ever gambled before?”

“I play baccarat in Monte Carlo from time to time,” says Elinor stiffly. “With the de Broisiers. An old Monaco family.”

“Good! Then you can show us how it’s done. I need to let off some steam, Elinor, I don’t mind telling you. Bye, Becky love. I’ll see you at the Bellagio tomorrow morning, nine sharp. Your father had better be ready for some home truths. Now, Elinor, do you enjoy a cocktail?”

As the door closes, Mum is still talking. And Luke and I just gape at each other.

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EIGHT

It’s the morning after. Whoever invented mornings after should basically be
shot
.

It’s quarter to nine and I’m sitting at a large circular table in the Bellagio restaurant, waiting for the others. My head is throbbing gently along with the background Muzak, and I feel a bit green. Which goes to show that room-service wine is just as potent as restaurant wine.

And so are room-service cocktails.

OK,
OK
. And room-service nightcaps.

It also didn’t help that Minnie woke us up at about three
A.M.,
shrieking that her bed was “in the water.” It’s all the fault of those stupid gondolas. They should have health warnings.

I look up to see Luke returning to the table from the buffet, along with Minnie, who is clutching a bowl of cornflakes.

“Mummy, flakes!” she says, as though she’s discovered some rare delicacy. “I got
flakes
!”

“Amazing, darling! Yummy!” I turn to Luke. “She has the whole of the Bellagio buffet to choose from and she goes for cornflakes?”

“I tried to get her interested in the fresh shrimp-and-lobster platter,” says Luke with a grin. “Not so much.”

My stomach turns over at the sound of fresh shrimp and lobster. I mean, honestly, lobster for breakfast. What kind of madness is that?

“They have truffle omelets,” says Luke, as Minnie starts to munch her cornflakes.

“Great,” I say without enthusiasm.

“And there’s a chocolate fountain, and French toast, and—”

“Luke, stop,” I moan. “Don’t talk about food.”

“Are you suffering?” Luke grins.

“No,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply not very hungry.”

Maybe I should start the 5:2 diet, it occurs to me. Yes. And today could be the eat-nothing day.

A waiter comes to refresh my coffee cup, and I sip from it gingerly. A moment later a familiar sound catches my ear and I look up. Is that Mum’s voice? Oh my God, is that apparition
Mum
?

She’s standing at the greeter’s desk, her hair all messed up, her eyes smudged, and with some kind of glittery flower behind her ear.

“My daughter,” she’s saying. “My daughter, Becky. Can you find her, please? I really need a cup of coffee….” She clutches her disheveled hair. “Oh, my head…”

“Mum!” I wave frantically. “Over here!”

As Mum looks up, I can see that she’s wearing the same dress as last night. Has she
not been to bed
?

“Mum!” I exclaim again as I head across the restaurant to her. “Are you OK? Where have you
been
?”

“Wait,” she says. “Let me get the others. Girls! Here!”

She beckons to the restaurant entrance, and to my astonishment I see the figures of Elinor and Janice approaching. They’re walking arm in arm. No, they’re staggering.

Both look dreadful. Both are in the same clothes as last night. Janice is wearing a shiny sash which reads K
ARAOKE
Q
UEEN
, and Elinor has what look like burnt-out sparklers stuck into her hair.

Oh my God. I give a sudden snort of laughter and clap a hand over my mouth.

“So, it was a good night out?” I ask as they reach us. Janice looks up and murmurs weakly, “Oh, Becky love. Never let me drink Tia Maria again.”