Celebrity Shopper

by Carmen Reid

  Annie and Svetlana, despite heels, snagged stockings and the rain, were crouched down beside their guide, desperately hoping this was not as serious as it looked.

  Morven’s eyes remained shut and Annie could feel panic rising up in her chest. Not just because she had no idea how to get back or how to get help but because of what had happened to Roddy.

  He had slipped, rolled down a slope and suffered a blow to the head from which he’d never recovered.

  These things happened. They really did happen.

  Why the bloody hell did anyone even go near a hillock without a crash helmet, ropes and a walkie-talkie? What the hell was she doing up here? This was all her fault! If it hadn’t been for her boasting about her heel-walking skills none of this would have happened. Morven wouldn’t be up some godforsaken bloody Scottish mountain in a rainstorm, living out the last few moments of her precious life, Annie panicked.

  ‘Morven!’ she wailed, not knowing whether to move the guide’s head into her lap or not. ‘Morven, please!’

  Much to Annie’s astonishment and relief, Morven’s eyes opened at this and seemed to focus easily enough on her.

  ‘What on earth …?’ Morven began.

  ‘You fall,’ Svetlana told her bluntly.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Annie asked, still feeling panicky. ‘How’s your head?’

  Slowly, Morven raised herself up on to her elbows. ‘I think my head’s fine,’ she replied, ‘but my ankle is agony.’ With that she tried to lift her left leg, but from the expression on her face, it was obviously too painful.

  ‘What do we do?’ Svetlana asked. ‘Who we call?’

  Morven slowly moved her hand to the zip of her anorak, pulled it down, and then rummaged in the inside pocket. She brought out a big black walkie-talkie.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Annie said. Relief flooded her as she pictured burly rescuers in bright yellow oilskins carrying Morven down the mountain in a fireman’s lift.

  Svetlana was imagining a helicopter. She loved to go by helicopter. It was her favourite way to travel. Especially if champagne was involved.

  Morven switched on the walkie-talkie. It made a crackling noise followed by heavy static.

  ‘Lima Hotel calling base,’ Morven said into the walkie-talkie. ‘Lima Hotel calling base.’

  ‘Hotel?’ Svetlana asked.

  ‘I think it’s a codename,’ Annie whispered.

  There was no reply.

  ‘Two other guides work around here, we have a little office … but we’re not in the office very much,’ Morven informed them. ‘They were looking after some Scouts today.’

  ‘Can’t you phone them directly on that thing?’ Annie asked.

  ‘No, that’s not how a walkie-talkie works.’

  ‘Can you leave them a message?’

  ‘That’s not how it works either,’ Morven repeated. ‘We’ll just have to sit tight and keep trying.’

  Svetlana and Annie exchanged a look. Sit here on this bloody hillside in the pouring rain! With someone who might have a broken ankle and maybe even concussion and just wait on the off-chance that someone might wander into the office and hear them?

  Both were thinking exactly the same thing: No way!

  A glance at the darkening sky told them that there was only another hour or so of daylight left.

  ‘We look at ankle,’ Svetlana instructed and she moved down towards Morven’s foot. ‘I take off boot, very gently,’ she added before Morven could protest.

  Svetlana’s long pink fingernails began to work at the bootlaces. Only when the boot had been fully opened did Svetlana gently and gingerly lift out the injured foot.

  ‘Easy, easy!’ Morven instructed, clenching her jaw in pain. Supported by Annie, she sat up again to take a look at the damage she’d inflicted on her own foot.

  With Morven hissing and wincing all the time, Svetlana rolled up the waterproof trouser leg and then eased down the thick cotton hiking sock.

  The foot looked awful. It dangled slightly at an angle, and was already puffing and swelling right before their eyes.

  ‘A little broken, I think,’ came Svetlana’s verdict, ‘but no bone through skin. This is good. Less chance of infection.’

  Annie looked at Svetlana with renewed respect. ‘How do you know about ankles?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh’ – Svetlana gave a shrug – ‘I train to be army nurse. You know, before Miss World.’

  Although the pain in her foot was making her feel sick, Morven still had to ask: ‘You were Miss World?’

  ‘No, Miss Ukraine.’ Summoning up her usual disdain for the result, Svetlana spat out, ‘Midget Miss Thailand win.’

  ‘You were in Miss World?’ Morven had to ask again. ‘That’s pretty impressive.’

  At least this was taking her mind off the broken foot.

  ‘Won’t anyone be expecting you back?’ Annie wanted to know. ‘Won’t someone in your office notice you’re missing?’

  ‘I didn’t think you two would last a mile,’ Morven had to admit. ‘I mean, who can hillwalk in heels? And it’s Saturday. The guys probably think I went out with you for half an hour, then clocked off early and have been lying low since then.’

  ‘But it’s a mountain!’ Annie exclaimed. ‘Surely you’re supposed to tell someone when you go up a mountain and when you get back so they can look out for you?’

  ‘It’s a hill,’ Morven corrected her, ‘and what about you? Isn’t someone looking out for you? Won’t someone miss you?’

  Well, what big fat help would that be? Ed only vaguely knew where they were headed, he couldn’t phone her or anyone else on his out-of-signal phone and he had four children in his care. He wasn’t exactly in the best position to launch a rescue effort, was he?

  ‘It’s a bit difficult for him …’ Annie began.

  ‘We are only three miles or so away from Land-Rover,’ Svetlana began. ‘We have to carry you down the hill. One arm over each shoulder, you hop on good leg. We get there.’

  The way Svetlana said it, it sounded reasonable. Only 3 miles. They’d already managed 7, hadn’t they?

  ‘But first we need bandage for the foot. Annie, your dress best,’ came Svetlana’s instruction.

  ‘Huh?’ It took Annie a good moment to understand what was meant here.

  Meanwhile, Svetlana opened her croc bag and brought out a sturdy-looking folding knife.

  ‘What’s that?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Ukrainian hunting knife. Always in bag, very useful,’ came the reply.

  She opened it up and began to close in on Annie’s silk Prada dress.

  No!

  Oh, no!

  After several deft slices, Annie was wearing a Prada micromini and Morven’s foot was being bound up in a very, very expensive silk bandage.

  Extremely carefully, Svetlana and Annie lifted Morven up on to the foot that could support her weight.

  With Morven’s arm and weight around her neck, Annie immediately felt thrown off balance. She and Svetlana were taller than Morven, so the injured guide pulled them down and forwards. Plus, Annie had both a handbag and a video camera to manage, not that she’d been doing much filming lately.

  The exposed stone on the hill face was still slippery and, with every step she took, Annie felt her footing skid. She felt Svetlana slipping about too. This was too dangerous. Whenever Morven felt them slip, she let out a little moan of fear, because the thought of being dropped on her broken ankle was horrible.

  ‘Why don’t you take off your shoes?’ Morven asked in a voice that sounded frightened.

  ‘Walk barefoot?’ Annie asked in astonishment. ‘But it’s freezing and it’s really hard and rocky.’

  ‘One of you could have my boots,’ Morven suggested.

  ‘Stop,’ Svetlana commanded, so they came to a halt and gently set Morven down again.

  Svetlana also sat down and took off her shoes. ‘We break heels off shoes,’ she said calmly and then began to bash her beautifully made Italian stiletto aga
inst a rock in an attempt to dislodge the heel.

  Several forceful strikes achieved absolutely nothing.

  ‘Give me that,’ Annie said and took the shoe from her friend’s hand. After a brief examination, she said: ‘It’s a metal heel, welded into the sole. It ain’t coming off, girl. Same as mine.’ She took off one of her red shoes and struck it against the rock to demonstrate.

  Morven’s voice sounded small and scared when she said, ‘It’s going to be dark in half an hour.’

  Annie looked up at the greying sky above them. This was, it had to be admitted, an additional complication.

  ‘I don’t feel well,’ Morven added and with that she twisted to the side and vomited, hitting mainly grass, but also a corner of Svetlana’s YSL raincoat.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled once she was done.

  ‘No problem,’ Svetlana assured her.

  Now Annie felt sick too because she knew that someone who’d banged her head and begun to vomit needed urgent medical attention.

  ‘We have to get her down; you take the boots and I’ll go barefoot,’ she said grimly, taking the second shoe from her foot.

  ‘No,’ Svetlana said, ‘you take boots, I make my own,’ and with that, she opened up her magnificent handbag. From inside she pulled out the folding knife again.

  Annie wasn’t quite sure whether she was going to laugh or cry; it felt as if it could go either way. ‘What the bloody hell are you going to make shoes out of?’ she asked.

  Svetlana held up her fabulous crocodile masterpiece to demonstrate.

  ‘No!’ was Annie’s immediate response. ‘You can’t do that! Not the Zagliani!’

  ‘Ya,’ Svetlana insisted, almost enjoying the horror on her friend’s face. ‘Get camera, Annah, you film.’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Babysitting Lana:

  Multi-coloured top (Miss Sixty)

  Blobs of gunge (Sudocrem)

  Skinny jeans (Topshop)

  Fluffy slippers (Christmas)

  Total est. cost: £70

  ‘WHAT?!’

  ‘If you’re going to go out to look for Mum, then I’m going to come with you,’ Owen said, appearing in the doorway of the cabin.

  ‘What?’ Ed asked as he laced up his hiking boots, carefully tucking his waterproof trousers into the waterproof gaiters round his ankles.

  It was horribly wet out there. If Annie and Svetlana weren’t tucked up in a cosy little pub, they were going to be totally soaked through and freezing, which is why he’d packed a flask of tea and spare waterproof cagoules into the little backpack he was wearing.

  ‘Owen,’ Ed said urgently, ‘I need you to stay with Lana. When the babies wake up, she won’t know what to do. You’ll have to show her where I’ve left the bottles and the food and how to do it. She’s never fed them before.’

  ‘You’ve left it all in the fridge,’ Owen said. ‘I’ll go and tell her right now. How hard can it be? I have to come with you.’

  There was an edge to Owen’s voice that Ed had heard only a handful of times before. It was angry insistence … laced with fear. He made one last effort to put Owen off. ‘I’ll probably be back here in twenty minutes. I’ll probably meet them on the road …’

  ‘Fine,’ Owen said, shoving his feet into his boots, ‘then we’ll both be back to help Lana with the twins.’

  With a sigh, Ed realized he would have to give in. ‘OK, OK. You’ll need your proper waterproof jacket and maybe put your torch into your backpack. It’s getting dark out there and I don’t know how long my batteries are going to last.’

  It was a much cheerier Owen who answered, with a grin: ‘No problem.’

  He disappeared back into the house. As well as getting the things Ed had asked him for, he went to Lana’s room with the message he couldn’t wait to deliver.

  Sticking his head round his big sister’s door, he said: ‘Ed and I are going out to find Mum. The babies won’t be asleep for much longer and when they wake up, you’ll have to warm up their bottles and give them supper.’ Casually, he added: ‘They’ll probably need new nappies too.’

  ‘WHAT?!’ Lana exclaimed.

  Lana was sure that Owen slammed the cabin door extra hard just to cause trouble. Because no sooner had he and Ed left, the bang reverberating right around the building, than Lana heard the little wail of distress from the main bedroom.

  For several minutes, she tried to ignore it, hoping that somehow whichever baby it was would settle down again and fall back to sleep.

  Lana knew nothing about babies. For all the time she had lived in a house with two babies, she had done her utmost to avoid them. She’d never wanted the babies. No one had asked her. She resented every moment Ed and her mother spent with those children. Really, hadn’t her mother been busy enough without stirring twin babies into the mix?

  The twins were like the central magnet in the house now. Everyone and everything fixated on them. She and Owen were in orbit around the twins and Owen was definitely on a much closer orbit than she was.

  Lana felt like a distant star who might quite like just to drift off into another galaxy.

  Preferably a galaxy inhabited by Andrei.

  She shook her head to dislodge the thought and got up from the bed. She felt stiff. Unlike the boys, she hadn’t even been outside today. She’d just been lying here, looking out at damp scenery and trying to read boring books written in the eighteenth century. Good grief. As soon as this A level was over, she was never going to study English again for as long as she lived.

  She crossed the corridor and stepped into the main bedroom. Both Micky and Minnie were awake now and, Lana realized nervously, they were relying on her to look after them. They were sitting up in their travel cots facing the door with anticipation.

  As soon as they saw her face, they began to smile and giggle.

  Lana looked at them nervously. Minnie put her hands above her head, wanting to be picked up.

  ‘Hello,’ Lana said, reaching down to get her.

  Immediately Micky began to protest, lifting his arms too, desperate not to be forgotten.

  ‘C’mon, Micky,’ Lana said and bent over the second cot. Minnie was tucked up in her right arm, now she struggled to hoist Micky up with her left.

  They were heavy, these babies!

  Only when she was sure she had a tight hold of them did Lana slowly begin the walk out of the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen.

  Food?

  That’s what Owen had told her to do next, wasn’t it?

  Minnie took hold of Lana’s hair and curled it round in her fist. She smiled charmingly at Lana, said ‘Baba’ adorably and then yanked viciously hard on the hair.

  ‘Ouch!’ Lana exclaimed, not able to stop herself.

  Micky, shocked, burst into tears. Minnie joined in.

  They were so loud!

  ‘It’s OK,’ Lana soothed, ‘it’s OK, really. It’s fine.’

  Halfway down the stairs she suddenly remembered about nappies. Wasn’t she supposed to change their nappies before they ate? Or would it be after they ate?

  She tried to crane a look at Minnie’s behind. There wasn’t any terrible smell coming from either of the babies but those bottoms looked big, as if the nappies were swollen with wetness.

  Yes. She would do nappies first, and then maybe, by the time she’d done that, everyone would be back to rescue her from the terror of trying to give the twins a meal.

  Back in the bedroom, Lana mentally ran through a nappy-changing plan. OK, she would put Minnie back in her cot and change Micky first.

  No, she would put both babies in the cot and arrange the changing mat, wipes, nappies and cream all together on the floor before she got the first baby out.

  As soon as she put the babies into their beds they began to wail, so now she was working in a stressed and panicky way, wanting everything to be sorted out as quickly as possible so she could get this over with.

  Changing mat down, wipes, nappies, cream … OK. She h
adn’t actually done a nappy herself yet, but if Owen could do it, how hard could it be?

  Lana brought Micky out first, because he seemed to be crying the loudest, but as soon as she did that, Minnie set up an outraged, ear-bursting protest which almost made Lana change her mind.

  ‘C’mon, it’s OK,’ she tried to soothe them both. ‘I’m just going to do Micky’s nappy and then I’ll do yours, Minnie.’

  She laid Micky down on his back. He promptly rolled over on to his front. She tried to roll him back, but he resisted with surprising force.

  ‘C’mon, Micky, where’s your nappy?’ she said, handing it to him as she wrestled with the poppers on his sleep suit.

  His great big soaking nappy was finally off. She wiped him clean, applied cream and then tried to wrestle the nappy out of his hands. He wouldn’t give it up.

  ‘Lana needs the nappy,’ she told him. ‘Yes she does.’ She leaned her face a little closer and felt a jet of warm wetness hit her in the face.

  No!

  Her baby brother had not just peed in her face. NO!

  But there was the little willy waving from side to side like a miniature hose, soaking not just Lana but the changing mat, the new nappy and his outfit.

  ‘Micky! Oh Micky,’ she complained.

  She picked him up and grabbed at the towel hanging over the end of the bed.

  ‘Stop crying, Minnie, please,’ she begged the distraught twin imprisoned in the cot.

  With the towel, Lana dabbed at her face, the mat and everything else caught in Micky’s range.

  Then she took off Micky’s sleep suit and looked about for something else to change him into. Only one of Min’s little pink Babygros was within reach. Oh, it would hardly matter, would it? Lana thought to herself as she hamfistedly bundled Micky into his nappy and then, limb by protesting limb, into the little pink suit.

  There.

  She put him into the cot, where he promptly burst into tears, and she took Minnie out.

  This nappy change went a little more smoothly. Well, Minnie somehow got hold of the nappy cream and had it on her fingers, her hair, the mat and Lana’s top before Lana had even noticed, but apart from that …