Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic 5-Book Bundle (104 page)

“I can.”

“It’s a highly significant event! We have four hundred people coming! Important people. Friends of mine, of the charity—”

“Well, you’ll just have to make my excuses.”

Elinor takes a few steps toward him, and I see to my astonishment that she’s shaking with rage. “If you do this, Luke, I can promise you. We will never speak again.”

“That’s fine by me. Come on, Becky.” He tugs at my hand and I follow him, stumbling slightly on the rug.

I can see Elinor’s face twitching again, and to my extreme astonishment, I feel a bit sorry for her. But then, as we turn and stride together out of the apartment, I squash it. Elinor’s been mean enough to me and my parents. She deserves all she gets.

We walk downstairs in silence. I think we’re both completely shell-shocked. Luke lifts his hand for a cab, gives our address to the driver, and we both get in.

After about three blocks we look at each other. Luke is pale and shaking slightly.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“You were brilliant,” I say firmly. “She had it coming.”

He swivels in his seat and looks at me earnestly. “Becky, I’m so sorry about the wedding. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Just tell me how.”

I stare at him, my mind working fast. OK. I have to play this one very carefully. If I make the wrong move, everything could still fall about my ears.

“So . . . you do still want to get married? You know, in principle.”

“Of course I do!” Luke looks shocked. “Becky, I love you. Even more than I did before. In fact, I’ve never loved you as much as I did in that room. When you made that incredible sacrifice for me, without even a moment’s hesitation.”

“What? Oh, the wedding! Yes.” I compose my features hastily. “Yes, well. It was quite a lot to ask of me. And um . . . speaking of . . . weddings . . .”

I almost can’t bring myself to say it. I feel as though I’m trying to balance the last card on top of the pyramid. I have to get it exactly right.

“How would you feel about getting married in . . . Oxshott?”

“Oxshott. Perfect.” Luke closes his eyes and leans back on his seat, looking exhausted.

I’m numb with disbelief. It’s all fallen into place. The miracle is complete.

As we drive down Fifth Avenue I look out of the window of the cab, suddenly taking in the world outside. Noticing for the first time that it’s summer. That it’s a beautiful sunshiny day. That Saks has a new window display of swimwear. Little things I haven’t been able to see, let alone appreciate, because I’ve been so preoccupied, so stressed.

I feel as though I’ve been walking around with a heavy weight on my back for such a long time, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to walk upright. But at last the burden is lifted, and I can cautiously stand up and stretch, and start to enjoy myself. The months of nightmaresville are over. Finally, I can sleep easy.

Nineteen

E
XCEPT
I
DON
’
T.

In fact, I don’t sleep at all.

Long after Luke’s crashed out, I’m staring at the ceiling, feeling uncomfortable. There’s something wrong here. I’m just not quite sure what.

On the surface, everything’s perfect. Elinor is out of Luke’s life for good. We can get married at home. I don’t have to worry about Robyn. I don’t have to worry about anything. It’s like a great big bowling ball has arrived in my life and knocked down all the bad ninepins in one fell swoop, leaving only good ones behind.

We had a lovely celebration supper, and cracked open a bottle of champagne, and toasted the rest of Luke’s life, and the wedding, and each other. Then we started talking about where we should go on our honeymoon, and I made a strong case for Bali and Luke said Moscow and we had one of those laughing, almost hysterical arguments you have when you’re high on exhilaration and relief. It was a wonderful, happy evening. I should be completely content.

But now that I’m in bed and my mind’s settled down, things keep niggling at me. The way Luke looked tonight. Almost too exhilarated. Too bright-eyed. The way we both kept laughing, as though we didn’t dare stop.

And other things. The way Elinor looked when we left. The conversation I had with Annabel, all those months ago.

I should feel triumphant. I should feel vindicated. But . . . somehow this doesn’t feel right.

At last, at about three in the morning, I slide out of bed, go into the living room, and dial Suze’s number.

“Hi, Bex!” she says in surprise. “What time is it there?” I can hear the tinny sound of British breakfast television on in the background, and little gurgles from Ernie. “God, I’m sorry I gave you a hard time yesterday. I’ve been feeling really bad ever since—”

“It’s OK. Honestly, I’ve forgotten all about it.” I huddle on the floorboards, pulling my dressing gown tightly around me. “Listen, Suze. Luke had a huge bust-up with his mum today. He’s pulled out of the Plaza wedding. We can get married in Oxshott after all.”

“
What?
” Suze’s voice explodes down the line. “That’s incredible! That’s fantastic! Bex, I’ve been so worried! I honestly didn’t know what you were going to do. You must be dancing on the ceiling! You must be—”

“I am. Kind of.”

Suze comes to a breathless halt. “What do you mean, kind of?”

“I know everything’s worked out. I know it’s all fantastic.” I wind my dressing gown cord tightly round my finger. “But somehow . . . it doesn’t feel fantastic.”

“What do you mean?” I can hear Suze turning the volume down. “Bex, what’s wrong?”

“I feel bad,” I say in a rush. “I feel like . . . I’ve won but I don’t want to have won. I mean, OK, I’ve got everything I wanted. Luke’s had it out with Elinor, he’s going to pay off the wedding planner, we can have the wedding at home . . . On the one hand it’s great. But on the other hand—”

“What other hand?” says Suze. “There isn’t another hand!”

“There is. At least . . . I think there is.” I start to nibble my thumbnail distractedly. “Suze, I’m worried about Luke. He really attacked his mother. And now he says he’s never going to talk to her again . . .”

“So what? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” I stare at the floor for a few moments. “He’s all euphoric at the moment. But what if he starts feeling guilty? What if this screws him up just as badly in the future? You know, Annabel, his stepmum, once said if I tried to chop Elinor out of Luke’s life it would damage him.”

“But you didn’t chop her out of his life,” points out Suze. “He did.”

“Well, maybe he’s damaged himself. Maybe it’s like . . . he’s chopped his own arm off or something.”

“Err, gross!”

“And now there’s this huge wound, which nobody can see, and it’ll fester away, and one day it’ll erupt again . . .”

“Bex! Stop it! I’m eating my breakfast.”

“OK, sorry. I’m just worried about him. He’s not right. And the other thing is . . .” I close my eyes, almost unable to believe I’m about to say this. “I’ve kind of . . . changed my mind about Elinor.”

“You
what
?” screeches Suze. “Bex, please don’t say things like that! I nearly dropped Ernie on the floor!”

“I don’t
like
her or anything,” I say hastily. “But we had this talk. And I do think maybe she loves Luke. In her own weird, icebox Vulcan way.”

“But she abandoned him!”

“I know. But she regrets it.”

“Well, so what! She bloody well ought to regret it!”

“Suze, I just think . . . maybe she deserves another chance.” I gaze at my fingertip, which is slowly turning blue. “I mean . . . look at me. I’ve done millions of stupid, thoughtless things. I’ve let people down. But they’ve always given me another chance.”

“Bex, you’re nothing like bloody Elinor! You’d never leave your child!”

“I’m not saying I’m
like
her! I’m just saying . . .” I tail away feebly, letting the dressing gown cord unravel.

I don’t really know what I’m saying. And I don’t think Suze will ever quite understand where I’m coming from. She’s never made any mistakes in her life. She’s always cruised through easily, never upsetting anyone, never getting herself in trouble. But I haven’t. I know what it feels like to do something stupid—or worse than stupid—and then wish, above anything else, that I hadn’t.

“So what does all this mean? Why are you—” Suze’s voice sharpens in alarm. “Hang on. Bex, this isn’t your way of saying you’re going to get married in New York after all, is it?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” I say after a pause.

“Bex . . . I’ll kill you. I really will. If you tell me now that you want to get married in New York—”

“Suze, I don’t
want
to get married in New York. Of course I don’t! But if we abandon the wedding now . . . then that’ll be it. Elinor’ll never speak to either of us again. Ever.”

“I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it! You’re going to fuck everything up again, aren’t you?”

“Suze—”

“Just as everything is all right! Just as for once in your life, you
aren’t
in a complete mess and I can start to relax . . .”

“Suze—”

“Becky?”

I look up, startled. Luke is standing there in his boxers and T-shirt, staring in bleary puzzlement at me.

“Are you OK?” he says.

“I’m fine,” I say, putting a hand over the receiver. “Just talking to Suze. You go back to bed. I won’t be long.”

I wait until he’s gone and then shuffle closer to the radiator, which is still giving out a feeble heat.

“OK, Suze, listen,” I say. “Just . . . just hear me out. I’m not going to fuck anything up. I’ve been thinking really hard, and I’ve had this genius idea . . .”

By nine the next morning I’m at Elinor’s apartment. I’ve dressed very carefully and am wearing my smartest linen U.N. diplomatic envoy-style suit, together with a pair of nonconfrontational rounded-toe shoes. Although I’m not sure Elinor quite appreciates the effort I’ve made. As she answers the door she looks even paler than usual and her eyes are like daggers.

“Rebecca,” she says stonily.

“Elinor,” I reply, equally stonily. Then I remember I’ve come here in order to be conciliatory. “Elinor,” I repeat, trying to inject the word with some warmth. “I’ve come to talk.”

“To apologize,” she says, heading down the corridor.

God, she is a cow. And anyway, what did I do? Nothing! For a moment I consider turning round and leaving. But I’ve decided to do this, so I will.

“Not really,” I say. “Just to talk. About you. And Luke.”

“He has regretted his rash actions.”

“No.”

“He wishes to apologize.”

“No! He doesn’t! He’s hurt and angry and he has no desire to go near you again!”

“So why are you here?”

“Because . . . I think it would be a good thing if the two of you tried to make up. Or at least talk to each other again.”

“I have nothing to say to Luke,” replies Elinor. “I have nothing to say to you. As Luke indicated yesterday, the relationship is terminated.”

God, they are
so
like each other.

“So . . . have you told Robyn yet about the wedding being off?” This is my secret fear, and I hold my breath for an answer.

“No. I thought I would give Luke a chance to reconsider. Clearly this was a mistake.”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll get Luke to go through with the wedding. If you apologize to him.” My voice is a little shaky. I can’t quite believe I’m doing this.

“What did you say?” Elinor turns and stares at me.

“You apologize to Luke and tell him . . . well, basically, that you love him. And I’ll persuade him to get married at the Plaza. You’ll have your big smart wedding for all your friends. That’s the deal.”

“You’re . . .
bargaining
with me?”

“Er . . . yes.” I turn to face her square-on and clench my fists tightly by my sides. “Basically, Elinor, I’m here for completely selfish reasons. Luke has been screwed up about you all his life. Now he’s decided he never wants to see you again. Which is all fine and good—but I’m worried that’s not the end. I’m worried in two years’ time he’ll suddenly decide he’s got to come back to New York and find you and see if you really are as bad as he thinks you are. And it’ll all start again.”

“This is preposterous. How dare you—”

“Elinor, you want this wedding. I know you do. You just have to be nice to your son and you can have it. I mean, it’s not that much to ask!”

There’s silence. Gradually Elinor’s eyes narrow, as closely as they can since her last bout of plastic surgery.

“You want this wedding too, Rebecca. Please don’t pretend this is a purely altruistic offer. You were as dismayed as I was when he pulled out. Admit it. You’re here because you want to get married at the Plaza.”

“You think that’s why I’m here?” I gape at her. “Because I’m upset that the Plaza wedding was canceled?”

I almost feel like laughing hysterically. I almost want to tell her the whole truth, right from the beginning.

“Believe me, Elinor,” I say at last. “That’s not why I’m here. I can live without the Plaza wedding. Yes, I was looking forward to it and it was exciting. But if Luke doesn’t want it . . . that’s it. I can drop it just like that. It’s not my friends. It’s not my home city. I really don’t care.”

There’s another sharp silence. Elinor moves away to a polished side table and, to my utter astonishment, takes out a cigarette and lights it. She’s kept that habit very quiet!

“I can persuade Luke,” I say, watching her put the box away. “And you can’t.”

“You are . . . beyond belief,” she says. “Using your own wedding as a bargaining tool.”

“I know I am. Is that a yes?”

I’ve won. I can see it in her face. She’s already decided.

“Here’s what you have to say.” I get out a piece of paper from my bag. “It’s all the stuff Luke needs to hear. You have to tell him you love him, you have to say how much you missed him when he was a child, how you thought he’d be better off in Britain, how the only reason you didn’t want to see him was you were afraid of disappointing him . . .” I hand the paper to Elinor. “I know none of it is going to sound remotely natural. So you’d better start off by saying ‘These words don’t come naturally to me.’ ”

Elinor stares blankly at the sheet. She’s breathing heavily and for a moment I think she’s going to throw it at me. Then, carefully, she folds up the piece of paper and puts it on the side table. Is that another twitch of emotion beneath her eye? Is she upset? Livid? Or just disdainful?

I just can’t get my head round Elinor. One minute I think she’s carrying round a huge untapped love deep inside her—and the next I think she’s a coldhearted cow. One minute I think she completely hates me. Then I think, maybe she just has no idea how she comes across. Maybe, all this time, she’s genuinely believed she was being friendly.

I mean, if no one’s ever
told
her what an awful manner she has . . . how’s she to know?

“What did you mean by saying that Luke might decide to come back to New York?” she says frostily. “Are you planning to leave?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” I say after a pause. “But yes. I think we might. New York’s been great, but I don’t think it’s a good place for us to be anymore. Luke’s burned out. He needs a change of scene.”

He needs to be away from you,
I add silently.

“I see.” Elinor draws on her cigarette. “You appreciate I had arranged an interview with the co-op board of this building? At considerable effort.”

“I know. Luke told me. But to be honest, Elinor, we would never have lived here.”

Her face flickers again, and I can tell she’s suppressing some kind of feeling. But what? Is it fury with me for being so ungrateful? Is it distress that Luke’s not going to live in her building after all? Part of me is desperately curious, wants to pick away at her facade, nose in, and find out all about her.

And another, more sensible part of me says, just leave it, Becky. Just leave it.

As I reach the door, though, I can’t resist turning round. “Elinor, you know how they say inside every fat person there’s a thin person struggling to get out? Well . . . the more I think about you, the more I think there might—possibly—be a nice person inside you. But as long as you keep being mean to people and telling them their shoes are shoddy, no one’s ever going to know.”

There. She’ll probably kill me now. I’d better get out. Trying not to look as though I’m running, I head down the corridor and out of the apartment. I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart thudding.

OK. So far so good. Now for Luke.

“I have absolutely no idea why you want to go to the Rainbow Room.” Luke leans back in his taxi seat and scowls out of the window.

“Because I never have, OK? I want to see the view!”

“But why now? Why today?”

“Why not today?” I glance at my watch and then survey Luke anxiously.

He’s pretending he’s happy. He’s pretending he’s liberated. But he’s not. He’s brooding.