“Well . . . OK,” I say after a pause. “Maybe that wasn’t entirely your fault. But that’s not the main issue. That’s not why Luke’s so upset. A few days ago, he went looking for family photos in your apartment. But he didn’t find any. Instead, he found some letters from his dad. All about how you didn’t want him when he was a child. How you weren’t interested in meeting him, even for ten minutes.”
Elinor’s face flinches slightly but she says nothing.
“And that brought back a lot of other really painful stuff. Like when he came to see you in New York and sat outside your building and you refused to acknowledge him? Remember that, Elinor?”
I know I’m being harsh. But I don’t care.
“That was him,” she says at last.
“Of course it was him! Don’t pretend you didn’t know it was him. Elinor, why do you think he pushes himself so hard? Why do you think he came to New York in the first place? To impress you, of course! He’s been obsessed for years! No wonder he’s gone over the edge now. To be honest, given the childhood he had, I’m amazed he’s lasted this long without cracking!”
As I break off for breath, it occurs to me that maybe Luke wouldn’t want me discussing all his secret neuroses with his mother.
Oh well, too late now. Anyway, someone’s got to let Elinor have it.
“He had a happy childhood,” she says, staring rigidly out of the window. We’ve stopped at a crossing and I can see the reflection of people walking past the car in her sunglasses.
“But he loved you. He wanted you. His mother. But you just didn’t want to see him—”
“He’s angry with me.”
“Of course he’s angry! You leave him behind and go off to America, not even caring about him, as happy as a clam.”
“Happy.” Elinor turns her head. “Do you think I’m happy, Rebecca?”
I’m halted. With a very slight twinge of shame I realize it’s never occurred to me to think about whether Elinor is happy or not. I’ve only ever thought about what a cow she is.
“I . . . don’t know,” I say at last.
“I made my decision. I stuck to it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t regret it.”
She takes off her sunglasses and I try not to give away my shock at the way she looks. Her skin is stretched even more tightly than ever and there’s slight bruising around her eyes. Although she’s just had a face-lift, to my eye she looks older than she did before. And kind of more vulnerable.
“I did recognize Luke that day,” she says in a quiet voice.
“So why didn’t you go over to him?”
There’s silence in the car—and then, her lips barely moving, she says, “I was apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive?” I echo disbelievingly.
“Giving up a child is a tremendous step. Taking a child back into one’s life is . . . equally momentous. Particularly after such a long time. I wasn’t prepared for such a step. I wasn’t prepared for seeing him.”
“Didn’t you want to talk to him, though? Didn’t you want to . . . to get to know him?”
“Maybe. Maybe I did.”
I can see a slight quivering, just below her left eye. Is that an expression of emotion?
“Some people find it easy to embrace new experiences. Others shrink away. It may be difficult for you to understand that, Rebecca. I know you are an impulsive, warm person. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”
“Yeah, right,” I say sarcastically.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Elinor,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s not play games. You don’t like me. You never have.”
“What makes you think I don’t like you?”
She cannot be serious.
“Your doorpeople don’t let me into my own party . . . you try to make me sign a prenup . . . you’re never ever nice to me . . .”
“I regret the incident at the party. That was an error on the part of the party planners.” She frowns slightly. “But I have never understood your objection to a prenuptial contract. No one should get married without one.” She looks out of the window. “We’re here.”
The car stops and the driver comes round to open the passenger door. Elinor looks at me.
“I do like you, Rebecca. Very much.” She gets out of the car and her eye rests on my foot. “Your shoe is scuffed. It looks shoddy.”
“You see?” I say in exasperation. “You see what I mean?”
“What?” She gives me a blank stare.
Oh, I give up.
Elinor’s apartment is bright with shafts of morning sun, and completely silent. At first I think she must be wrong and Luke isn’t here—but as we enter the living room, I see him. He’s standing at the picture window, staring out with a deep frown.
“Luke, are you OK?” I say cautiously, and he wheels round in shock.
“Becky. What are you doing here?”
“I just . . . ran into your mother at Tiffany. Where have you been all morning?”
“Around and about,” says Luke. “Thinking.”
I glance at Elinor. She’s staring at Luke, her face unreadable.
“Anyway, I’ll leave, shall I?” I say awkwardly. “If you two are going to talk . . .”
“No,” says Luke. “Stay. This won’t take long.”
I sit down awkwardly on the arm of a chair, wishing I could shrink into it. I’ve never liked the atmosphere in this apartment—but right now it’s like the temperature’s dropped ten degrees.
“I received your messages,” says Elinor. “And your letter, which made very little sense.” She takes off her gloves with jerky movements and places them on a side table. “I have no idea what you’re trying to accuse me of.”
“I’m not here to accuse you of anything,” says Luke, making a visible attempt to stay calm. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve had a few realizations. One of which has been that I’ve been somewhat . . . deluded over the years. You never really wanted me to live with you, did you? Yet you’ve allowed me to believe that you did.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Luke,” says Elinor after a pause. “The situation was far more complicated than you might imagine.”
“You’ve played on my . . . my weakness. You’ve used me. And my company. You’ve treated me like a . . .” He breaks off, breathing heavily, and takes a couple of moments to calm himself. “What’s a little sad is that one of the reasons I came to New York was to spend time with you. Perhaps get to know you as well as Becky knows her mother.”
He gestures toward me and I look up in alarm. Don’t bring me into this!
“What a waste of time.” His voice harshens. “I’m not sure you’re even capable of that kind of relationship.”
“That’s enough!” says Elinor. “Luke, I can’t talk to you when you’re in this state.”
As he and Elinor face each other, I see that they’re more alike than I’ve ever realized. They both get that blank, scary expression when things are going badly. They both set themselves impossibly high standards. And they’re both more vulnerable than they want the outside world to know.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” says Luke. “I’m leaving now. You won’t see me or Becky again.”
My head jerks up in shock. Is he serious?
“You’re talking nonsense,” says Elinor.
“I’ve sent a letter of resignation to the trustees of the Elinor Sherman Foundation. There should be no other reason for our paths to cross.”
“You have forgotten the wedding,” says Elinor crisply.
“No, we haven’t. I haven’t forgotten it at all.” Luke takes a deep breath and glances at me. “As of now, Becky and I will be making alternative arrangements for our marriage. Naturally, I’ll pay whatever expenses you’ve incurred.”
Wh—
What did he say? I stare at Luke, gobsmacked.
Did he really just say what I—
Did he really just . . .
Am I hallucinating?
&n
bsp; “Luke,” I say, trying to keep calm, trying to keep steady. “Let me just get this . . . Are you saying you want to pull out of the Plaza wedding?”
“Becky, I know I haven’t discussed this with you yet.” Luke comes over and takes my hands. “I know you’ve been planning this wedding for months. It’s a lot to ask you to pull out. But under the circumstances, I just don’t feel I can go through it.”
“You want to pull out of the wedding.” I swallow. “You do know there’s a financial penalty?”
“I don’t care.”
“You . . . you don’t care?”
He doesn’t care.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“That’s not what I meant!” says Luke, seeing my expression. “I do care! Of course I care about us. But to stand up in public, and pretend to be a loving son to . . .” He glances at Elinor. “It would be farcical. It would debase the whole thing. Can you understand that?”
“Luke . . . of course I understand,” I say, trying to keep the exhilaration out of my voice. “If you want to pull out, then I’m happy to go along.”
I can’t believe it. I’m saved. I’m saved!
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” He stares at me incredulously.
“Of course I’m serious! If you want to cancel the wedding, then I’m not going to put up a fight. In fact . . . let’s call it off straight away!”
“You are a girl in a million, Becky Bloomwood.” Luke’s voice is suddenly thick. “To agree without even hesitating . . .”
“It’s what you want, Luke,” I say simply. “That’s all that matters to me.”
It’s a miracle!
There’s no other explanation.
For once in my life, God was actually listening. Either him or Ganesh.
“You cannot do this.” For the first time there’s a tremor of emotion in Elinor’s voice. “You cannot simply abandon the wedding I have organized for you. Funded for you.”
“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
EXCEPT 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.
Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic 5-Book Bundle Page 93