Mini Shopaholic

by Sophie Kinsella

  ‘Yes please!’ I say joyfully.

  Lunch at Gordon Ramsay with the managing director! Employee of the Year! I am so heading towards the board of directors.

  As Trevor takes a call on his mobile, Danny pushes his chair over to mine.

  ‘So, how’s the party going?’

  ‘Sssh!’ I glare at him. ‘Not so loud!’

  ‘Only I was at this fashion bash in Shoreditch last week and I thought of you.’ He offers me some gum. ‘I don’t know what security firm you’re using, but Fifteen Star Security is in really terrible form. The bouncers were, like, totally aggressive and the valet parking was a shambles. So if you’ve booked them, you might want to think again.’

  For a moment I can’t quite find an answer.

  Bouncers? Valet parking? I haven’t even thought about bouncers and valet parking.

  ‘Well, I certainly won’t use that company, then,’ I say as convincingly as I can.

  ‘Cool.’ Danny swings his feet up on to a chair. ‘Who are you using?’

  ‘I’m just … er … firming up on security arrangements.’

  It’s fine. Don’t panic. I’ll just add it to the list. Book bouncers and valet –parking.

  ‘The restrooms were great, though,’ he adds enthusiastically. ‘They were in a separate tent, and everyone got a foot massage. Are you hiring foot masseurs?’

  I can’t reply. I’m too gripped by horror.

  Restrooms. Shit. How could I have forgotten those? Was I expecting two hundred people to use Janice’s en suite?

  Surreptitiously I write ‘Book loos’ on my hand with a biro.

  ‘Of course I’m having foot masseurs.’ I try to sound nonchalant. ‘And hand masseurs. And … reiki people.’

  I’m not letting some stupid fashion bash in Shoreditch beat my party.

  ‘Excellent.’ His eyes gleam. ‘And Luke has no idea?’

  ‘None. And keep your voice down!’

  ‘Well, that won’t last. No one ever threw a surprise party that was a genuine surprise.’

  ‘Yes they did!’ I retort crossly, but Danny is shaking his head.

  ‘Take it from me, Becky. Some moron’ll blab. Hey, look what I made for my god-daughter.’ He pulls out a little tartan T-shirt with “Minnie Rocks” in hot-pink letters.

  It’s always the same with Danny. Just as you’re about to clonk him over the head for being so annoying, he does something really sweet and you fall in love with him all over again. I can’t help throwing an arm around him and giving him a hug.

  But, oh God. What if he’s right?

  *

  As I’m arriving home, my mobile rings, and it’s finally Bonnie calling me back.

  ‘Bonnie!’ I retreat into the bushes. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m well, thank you.’ Bonnie sounds a bit strained, and not like her usual self. ‘All’s well.’

  I peer at the phone dubiously. ‘Bonnie, what’s wrong? You sound really hassled.’

  ‘Well, the truth is …’ Bonnie sighs. ‘Luke didn’t react well when I tried to mention his shower gel just now. In fact, he became quite irritable with me.’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ I say guiltily. ‘Well, don’t worry about that any more. It was worth a try. How’s the party going your end?’

  ‘We’ve had lots more acceptances today! I’ve made a file of all the details and special requests.’

  ‘Special requests?’ I echo uncertainly.

  ‘We’ve had requests for vegetarian food, kosher food, wheat-free food … I assume your caterers can take care of that? In addition, one guest needs a waiting area for his driver, another needs a baby-feeding area, one government minister would like to send in his security people first to sweep the area …’

  ‘Right! No problem!’

  I’m trying to sound confident and can-do, but inside, I feel a bit daunted. Since when did birthday parties get so complicated?

  ‘Becky?’

  ‘Sorry.’ I wrench my mind back. ‘Bonnie, there’s something else. I need to ask you something.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Is Luke hiding something from me?’

  There’s silence and my heart plunges. I knew it.

  ‘Is it about Minnie? Be honest.’

  ‘No, dear!’ She sounds taken aback. ‘I haven’t heard Luke talking about Minnie at all!’

  ‘Oh.’ I rub my nose. ‘Well, something to do with work, then?’

  There’s another silence. The answer is obviously ‘yes’. Suddenly I have an ominous feeling about this.

  ‘Bonnie, I thought you were my friend,’ I say at last. ‘Why can’t you tell me what’s going on? Is it bad? Is it another court case?’ My mind is racing with awful possibilities. ‘Is Luke in trouble? Is he bankrupt?’

  ‘No!’ Bonnie cuts in hastily. ‘Please, Becky, don’t think anything like that!’

  ‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ My voice rises in agitation. ‘I know Luke wants to shield me from all the bad things, but how can I help him if I don’t know what’s going on?’

  ‘Becky, please don’t get upset! It’s not bad! It’s simply … a new client.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The wind is slightly taken out of my sails. That’s not what I was expecting. Although now I remember it, Luke did mention another new client, didn’t he? But why is it a huge secret?

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ Bonnie says reluctantly. ‘Luke specifically asked me not to mention it. He thought you might get … overexcited. He wanted to be sure it would work out first.’

  ‘Over-excited?’ I stare indignantly at the phone. ‘Bonnie, you have to tell me.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes you can! We’re a team, remember?’

  ‘I can’t.’ Bonnie sounds pained. ‘Becky, you must realize that Luke is my boss—’

  ‘And I’m your friend. Friends are more important than bosses! Everyone knows that.’

  There’s silence, then Bonnie whispers, ‘Becky, I should go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

  She rings off and I watch the light in my phone die away. I walk over to the willow tree in the middle of the front lawn and sit on the old wooden bench. To be honest, I feel a bit unsettled. What’s going on with Luke? And how am I going to manage this party? I thought I was doing so well; I was so pleased with myself. But now I’m feeling panicky.

  Security guards. Valet parking. Kosher food. Loos. Foot masseurs. Oh God, oh God. How am I going to afford all this? Why have I spent so long making stupid pom-poms? What else do I need to think about?

  Suze would know. Suze goes to posh parties all the time. But I can’t ask her. Not now.

  On impulse I open my BlackBerry and scroll down the acceptance list. The more names I read, the worse I feel. Why can’t Luke have normal friends? Why do they all have to be so posh and important? These people will be used to grand receptions in smart venues. They’re used to marble pillars and string quartets and waiters in white coats …

  ‘Becky?’ Mum is looking out of the front door with a concerned look. ‘Are you OK, love?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say brightly. ‘Just … thinking.’

  There’s no way in a million years I’m admitting I’m worried about the party.

  Mum disappears again and I nibble my thumbnail. Well, I don’t have any choice, do I? I’ll have to book the bouncers and the loos and the masseurs and everything else. And just pay for it … somehow.

  I wince as I think over my finances. I can’t take the money out of the joint account because Luke will see. And I can’t take it out of my own account because there’s nothing to take out. There’s no way the bank will extend my overdraft. Not at the moment. And I’ve already maxed out half my cards. All the credit companies are so stingy these days.

  Could I contact my old bank manager, Derek Smeath, and plead for a special emergency party overdraft? He’d understand, surely. And he always liked Luke, and I could invite him to the party …

  I suddenly sit bolt upright. No
. I’ve got it. I’ll ask Trevor for my Employee of the Year money in advance. He can’t refuse me, can he? Not after all those nice things he said about me.

  In fact, while I’m at it … why don’t I ask him for a raise?

  I’m so relieved, I almost laugh out loud. Why didn’t I think of that before? He’s just presented me with flowers, for God’s sake. My department is the best by miles. It’s bucking all the trends. It’s obvious I should get a raise. I’ll ask for a confidential meeting and I’ll calmly ask for a small yet significant raise, and together with the Employee of the Year money, that will pay for everything.

  Maybe a medium-sized yet significant raise. Even better.

  And meanwhile I’ll Google ‘expensive luxury-party planning details’, just to see what else I’ve forgotten.

  Feeling a million times better I get up from the bench, and am heading inside as a text bleeps on my phone. I pull it out, to see it’s from Bonnie.

  Becky dear. I have been torn by guilt. I feel you are right. Your friendship has come to mean a great deal to me and the major part of any friendship has to be trust. I will therefore trust you and send by separate text the name of the new client which Luke is keeping from you (for all the best reasons, I must assure you).

  Please delete these texts straight away after reading. I hope and believe that you will respect the fact that I am risking a certain amount by divulging this information. Please try not to give away to Luke the fact that you know it. Some self-restraint may be required on your part.

  Your affectionate friend

  Bonnie

  I feel so touched as I read the words. Bonnie is my friend. And I’m her friend. And that’s what’s important. I hardly even care about the name of the client any more. I mean, it’ll only be some boring bigshot finance type I’ve never heard of, probably.

  As for saying I’ll need self-restraint … for God’s sake. I think sometimes people who work in PR start to believe their own hype. I press ‘Reply’ and start texting back:

  Dear Bonnie, thank you so much. You are a great friend to me. Don’t worry, I will not give away to Luke by a smidgen that I know the name of this client, and I really don’t think self-restraint will be a problem—

  A bleep interrupts me. Ooh, that might be Bonnie’s second text. I might as well have a look before I continue. I click on it and wait for the message to appear on the screen.

  It consists of two words only. For a moment I stand stock still, blinking, not quite able to process what I’m seeing.

  Sage Seymour.

  Sage Seymour the movie star? She’s the new client? But … but … how on earth …

  No. It can’t be true. It’s ridiculous. Luke doesn’t represent movie stars.

  But then, Bonnie wouldn’t say it unless—

  Sage Seymour?

  How did this happen? How did he go from representing boring old banks to actresses? And why has he kept so quiet about it?

  I’m almost hyperventilating. I keep looking up and then looking down at the screen again, just to check it still says the same thing.

  Sage Seymour’s the coolest movie star ever. She was in that one about the Nazis. She wore that amazing nude beaded dress to the Oscars. I’ve always, always, always wanted to meet her.

  And Luke’s met her? He’s working with her?

  Why didn’t he TELL ME?

  Sage Seymour – Google Search

  Suggestions

  Google earth

  Google maps

  Google.com

  Google wave

  Google translate

  Google chrome

  Google voice

  Recent Searches

  sage seymour luke brandon

  sage seymour luke brandon new publicist

  sage seymour becky brandon

  sage seymour fashion

  jimmy choo 50 per cent off

  madonna children school

  claudia schiffer children school

  expensive luxury party planning details

  budget luxury party planning details

  valet parking oxshott

  alexander wang handbag

  alexander wang handbag sale

  venetia carter discredited and ruined

  sage seymour pink swimming pool

  sage seymour new best friend

  FOURTEEN

  I cannot believe Luke hasn’t told me about Sage Seymour.

  I would never, ever, ever keep such a big secret from him. In fact, I’m quite shocked. Is this how he thinks a marriage works? With one person knowing a movie star and not telling the other one?

  Obviously I can’t let him know that I know, because that would be betraying Bonnie’s confidence. But I can give him cutting little glances now and then, as though to say, ‘Yes, well, someone’s got a great big secret, haven’t they?’

  ‘Becky, is something wrong?’ Luke looks at me, puzzled, as he passes by, hefting two massive carrier bags to the removal lorry. The guys have been here for an hour and we’re nearly all packed up.

  ‘No!’ I say tartly. ‘What could possibly be wrong?’

  Luke scans my face for a minute, then sighs. ‘Oh God. I get it.’ He dumps the bags down and puts his arms around me. ‘I know it’s a difficult day for you. Of course, it’ll be great to have our own space – but we’ve been happy living here. It’s the end of an era.’

  It’s not about the ‘end of an era’! I want to yell at him. Why would I care about that? It’s ‘Why didn’t you let me meet the famous movie star?’

  I just can’t believe I’ve missed such an amazing opportunity. We could all have had dinner together by now. We probably would have really hit it off. Sage and I would have exchanged phone numbers and become best friends and she would have invited me out to her home in Malibu where she’s got that shell-pink-mosaic swimming pool. It looks amazing.

  I can just see us, floating on lilos, drinking smoothies, chatting about life. She could have told me how she gets her hair that amazing treacly colour and I could have told her exactly where she’d gone wrong with that last boyfriend of hers. (Because I totally disagree with that columnist in Heat magazine – the split was not inevitable.) And then we could have gone shopping and been snapped by paparazzi and started a whole new trend with scarves or something.

  But Luke’s keeping me out of it. On purpose. He doesn’t deserve a surprise party. I’m so grouchy, I almost feel like telling him.

  ‘Becky?’ I look up to see Jess coming up the drive. ‘Good luck with your new house,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘Here’s a house-warming present.’

  She hands me a massive bulky bag made of strong brown paper and I peep inside. Bloody hell. What on earth is that?

  ‘Wow, thanks! Is it … candy floss?’ I say uncertainly.

  ‘Insulation lagging,’ says Jess. ‘Houses in this country are shockingly poor on insulation. Put it in your loft. Save some energy.’

  ‘Lovely!’ I pat it gingerly. ‘So, how are you? I’ve hardly seen you.’

  ‘I’ve been visiting friends. I try not to stay here for more than a night at a time.’ Jess lowers her voice darkly. ‘She’s doing my head in. Tom’s, too.’

  ‘Janice?’ I whisper back sympathetically. ‘Is she still going on about you having a baby?’

  ‘Worse! She knows she can’t talk about it because Tom’ll shout her down. So she’s resorted to other measures.’

  ‘What measures?’ I say, intrigued.

  ‘She gave me this herbal drink the other day. She said I seemed “run down”. But I didn’t trust her, so I looked it up online. It’s only a natural fertility drug and libido enhancer.’ She looks outraged. ‘Tom had already drunk three cups!’

  ‘No way!’ I feel like giggling, except Jess is so fierce, I don’t dare.

  ‘I wish this was us, moving out to our own place.’ She looks wistfully at the van.

  ‘Well, why don’t you?’

  ‘We’ll be going back out to South America in a few weeks.’ Jes
s shrugs. ‘There’s no point and we don’t have any spare cash. But I’m telling you, if she does one more thing—’

  ‘Come and stay with us!’ Impulsively I squeeze her arm. ‘We’ll have a fab time and I promise not to feed you any fertility drugs.’

  ‘Really?’ Jess looks surprised. ‘But your mum and dad said you didn’t want anyone visiting your house till it was ready.’

  ‘Er … kind of.’ I clear my throat.

  I haven’t had a chance to explain the situation to Jess. I’ll call her later, when we’re at the rented place.

  ‘Ready to go?’ Luke is calling. He dropped our car off at the house yesterday, so we’re going in the removal truck. It’s the coolest thing ever. It’s got a row of seats at the front so there’s room for all of us, even Minnie. She’s already strapped into her booster with her snack box and is passing raisins one by one to the removal driver. (He’s called Alf and luckily seems a very patient guy.)

  We should so buy a great big truck, I think idly. I mean, it’s the perfect family car. You’d never have to worry about having too much shopping again. We could all sit in the front and people would call us The Family in the Cool Truck, and—

  ‘Becky?’

  Oh. Oops. Everyone’s waiting.

  I head over to Mum and give her a hug. ‘Bye, Mum. And thanks so much for putting up with us.’

  ‘Oh, love.’ Mum waves it off. ‘Don’t be silly.’ She glances at Dad. ‘Shall we …’

  Dad nods, and clears his throat self-consciously. ‘Before you go, darling, I’d just like to say a few words,’ he begins. Luke descends from the cab of the lorry with a questioning look and I shrug back. I had no idea Dad was planning to make a speech.

  ‘I thought this day would never happen.’ Dad’s voice rings round the tarmac drive. ‘Our daughter has bought a house!’ He pauses momentously. ‘We’re very, very proud, aren’t we, Jane?’

  ‘We used to say, who on earth would ever give our little Becky a mortgage?’ Mum chimes in. ‘We were quite worried, love! But now you’ve got a beautiful house in Maida Vale!’

  I can’t look at Luke. I’m standing there in silence, chewing my lip, feeling more and more uncomfortable. I mean, I know we will have a house soon. So I haven’t exactly lied. But still.