Mini Shopaholic

by Sophie Kinsella

  The noise is phenomenal. A massive throng of lit-up faces is turned towards us. I recognize only some of them. Janice is near the front, in her Mrs Bennet dress, and Jess is in the most amazing sculptured black sheath, with dramatic make-up to match. As I look around the marquee I can’t help a twinge of pride. Fairy lights are strung up and silver balloons are bobbing with ‘Happy Birthday Luke’ printed in the Brandon Communications logo font. All around the marquee are glossy mock promotional posters and blown-up newspapers, each with a different headline and story about Luke Brandon. (I wrote them all myself.) The pièce de résistance is a massive back-lit graph, just like the ones they produce for Brandon C press launches. It shows pictures of Luke every year, from a baby right up to adulthood, and is headlined: ‘Luke – a Bumper Year’.

  And right above our head, all around, are my pom-poms. We strung fairy lights through them and hung them in garlands – and they look amazing.

  ‘Happy birthday to you …’ Someone launches into singing and the crowd follows lustily.

  I dart a glance at Luke.

  ‘Wow!’ he exclaims as though on cue. ‘This is such … I had no idea!’

  He’s making the hugest effort to look supremely shocked. I have to give him that.

  ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow …’ the crowd is now singing. Luke keeps spotting faces in the crowd and acknowledging them with waves and smiles, and as soon as the singing finishes, he takes a glass from a waitress and raises it towards the general mêlée.

  ‘You bastards!’ he says, and there’s a roar of laughter. The little three-piece band in the corner strikes up with some Gershwin, and people surge round Luke, and I watch his face as he greets them.

  He wasn’t blown away. He wasn’t speechless with surprise. But then … I knew he wouldn’t be. The minute that guy opened his mouth in the Berkeley Hotel.

  ‘Becky! This is fantastic!’ A woman from Brandon Communications whose name I’ve forgotten (but I remember that amazing Alexander McQueen dress) descends on me. ‘Did you do all these decorations yourself?’

  Erica and her staff are circulating with canapés and I can see Janice approaching a chic blonde girl with a powder compact. For God’s sake. I told her, no touch-ups. I have to head her off, quick.

  But before I can, a greying man hands me a cocktail and introduces himself as an old colleague of Luke’s and asks me how long it all took to plan, and then his wife (floaty dress, too much lipstick) asks me excitedly if I’ve seen the clips on YouTube, and about fifteen minutes go by and I haven’t done anything except talk to strangers. I don’t even know where Luke is.

  There’s a bit of a draught coming through the flaps of the marquee, too, and everyone’s gradually huddling away from the entrance.

  ‘People! A word if you please.’ Luke’s commanding voice fills the tent and at once all the Brandon Communications people stop talking and stand to attention, as though he’s about to make some company presentation. The others follow suit, and the whole place falls silent with incredible speed.

  ‘I just want to say … thank you.’ He surveys the crowd of smiling faces. ‘To all of you. I can’t believe so many old friends are here and I look forward to catching up. I can’t believe you all knew about this, you devious lot.’ There’s an appreciative laugh around the marquee. ‘And I can’t believe how clever my wife has been.’ He turns to me. ‘Becky, take a bow.’

  A spattering of applause breaks out and I dutifully make a little bow.

  ‘Was it a total surprise, Luke?’ calls out the woman with too much lipstick. ‘Did you have absolutely no idea?’

  Luke darts the wariest of glances at me; you’d hardly notice it.

  ‘Yes, absolutely!’ He sounds a little forced. ‘I had no idea until I stepped into the—’ He breaks off. ‘At least, obviously I suspected something when we got into the taxi …’ He stops again and rubs his face awkwardly, and there’s a curious, expectant hush around the tent.

  ‘Here’s the thing.’ Luke looks up at last, and his usual polished veneer is gone. ‘I don’t want to lie to all of you. I don’t want to put on an act, because this is too important to me. I want to say what I really feel. Someone did give the game away earlier on. A little. So yes, I was expecting … something. But you know what? A party like this isn’t about the surprise factor. It’s about someone going to so much trouble that it just … overwhelms you. And you think, “What did I do to deserve this?”’ He pauses, his voice trembling a bit. ‘I am the luckiest man alive, and I’d like to propose a toast. To Becky.’

  I’m glancing at my phone. It’s been buzzing with texts throughout and I’ve only had half an ear on Luke’s little speech. But now I look up.

  ‘OK, Luke.’ I allow myself a smile. ‘You’re wrong. This kind of party is all about the surprise factor. Take your drink. Take your coat. And step this way, please. Everyone, if you could collect your coats and follow us …’

  Out of nowhere, Daryl, Nicole, Julie and three of their friends have materialized and are efficiently pushing in rails of coats. All the guests are looking at each other, flummoxed. Daryl winks at me – and I wink back. He’s a total star, Daryl. He got in touch a week ago and said he’d really improved on the fire-eating and did I want to audition him again? Whereupon I said no thanks – but there was another little job he could do. All six teenagers are dressed smartly in white shirts and waistcoats, and Nicole’s wearing her Vivienne Westwood shoes, I notice.

  Luke hasn’t moved a muscle. He looks utterly gobsmacked.

  Ha!

  ‘Becky …’ He wrinkles his brow. ‘What on earth …’

  Ha! Ha!

  ‘You think this is your party?’ I nod at the marquee derisively.

  I almost want to skip with glee as I lead him back through Janice’s house to the drive. And they’re here. Right on cue. Four massive coaches, parked outside. They’re jet black and on the side is printed in white:

  LUKE’S REAL SURPRISE PARTY.

  ‘Wh—’

  Luke’s jaw has dropped. He seems unable to speak.

  Yessssss!

  ‘In you get,’ I say blithely.

  ***

  I know, I know, I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.

  I wanted to. But I was afraid you might blab.

  ***

  The atmosphere in the coach is fantastic. The whole level of festivity seems to have gone up ten notches. I keep hearing snatches of ‘Where are we going?’ and ‘Did you know?’ and gales of laughter.

  And Luke just seems stunned. I’ve never seen him so stunned. I must surprise him more often.

  ‘OK, blindfold on …’ I say as we reach the turning.

  ‘No.’ He starts to laugh. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Blindfold on!’ I lift a mock-stern finger and waggle it at him.

  This is quite a power trip, actually. He’s totally under my control. I yank the ends of the blindfold really tight, and peer out of the front of the coach. We’re nearly there!

  I text Suze Five minutes and immediately get back OK. She’s there, waiting for me, along with Mum, Dad, Minnie, Danny and the rest of Team Two.

  Oh yes. I had two teams. Well, actually, that was Elinor’s idea.

  I know Elinor’s still there too, because Suze sent me a text a few minutes ago saying that Elinor had been checking every last-minute detail fanatically and all the staff were petrified of her.

  As we head up the long avenue of trees I can see all the guests peering curiously out of the coach windows and I furiously make a finger-to-lips gesture. Not that Luke would guess, probably. He’s only been to Suze’s new house once.

  I say ‘house’. What I mean is, ‘stately home with parkland’.

  It was such a last-minute decision to come here. We’d planned to hire a venue, and Elinor was poised to bribe some other event to move (she’s totally ruthless, like a trained assassin), when Suze suddenly said, ‘Wait! What about Letherby Hall?’

  I think sometimes Suze actually forg
ets how many houses she and Tarquin possess. She certainly had no idea how many bedrooms it’s got.

  Anyway. Once we’d made that decision, everything fell into place. Or at least, was shoved very quickly into place. And it’s the perfect, dreamiest, most romantic setting for a party. I can hear people oohing and aahing behind me as they catch sight of the house, with its two grand wings and central dome and Doric pilasters all over the place. (I know they’re Doric pilasters because Tarkie told me. In fact, I’m quite hoping someone asks me about them.)

  There’s a breeze in the air as we all pile out of the coaches and crunch forward over the gravel. The front entrance is open and lit up and I usher everyone in silently, still guiding Luke. We cross the ancient stone floor and soon we’re all assembled, standing in front of the grand double doors to the Great Hall.

  I can hear the whispers and giggles and ‘sssh!’s going on behind me. I can feel the anticipation now. I almost feel frightened. This is it. This is the moment.

  ‘OK.’ My voice shakes a little as I untie his blindfold. ‘Luke … happy birthday.’

  As I open the double doors, the gasp behind Luke is like hearing the rush of water. But I’m only looking at his face. It’s ashen.

  If I wanted blown away and speechless … then I’ve got it.

  He takes a step forward, wonderingly. Then another … then another.

  The whole of the Great Hall has been transformed into the stage of that vintage toy theatre he bought for Minnie; the toy theatre of his childhood. All the Midsummer Night’s Dream sets have been painstakingly reproduced. There are the same bushes and trees and castle spires, there’s a brook and moss. Little tables and chairs are nestled amongst the foliage. A band is playing low, magical music. Set here and there in the trees, like big flowers, are more of my pom-poms. I can’t help feeling proud. They do look good.

  ‘This is …’ Luke swallows hard. ‘It’s exactly the same as …’

  ‘I know.’ I grip his hand tight.

  This was always my idea. But I could never have done it as spectacularly as this if it weren’t for Elinor.

  ‘Daddeeeee!’ Minnie comes running out from behind a tree, dressed in the most beautiful, gossamer fairy dress with wings that Danny made for her. ‘Happy! Happy Daddy!’

  ‘Minnie!’ Luke looks overwhelmed as he scoops her up. ‘Where did you … How did you … Suze! Jane! Graham! Danny!’ He’s turning his head in bewilderment as they all pop out from their hiding places.

  ‘Happy birthday!’

  ‘Surprise!’

  ‘Say something, Luke, love! Give us a little speech!’ I can’t believe Mum’s pointing a camcorder at Luke’s face. She knows we’ve hired a professional cameraman.

  ‘Bonnie?’ Luke looks even more shellshocked as Bonnie emerges from behind the waterfall in a spectacular aquamarine dress, an abashed smile on her face. ‘Please don’t tell me you were in on all of this.’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘This is just … unreal.’ He shakes his head and looks around the magical room again. ‘Who else knows it’s my birthday?’

  ‘Who else? Um …’ I meet Bonnie’s eyes and want to laugh. ‘Quite a few people. Most of the City.’

  ‘The readership of the Daily World,’ adds Bonnie. ‘And the Standard City Diary, and the Mail just ran a little piece.’

  ‘You’ve got messages from three members of the Royal Family,’ puts in Suze brightly.

  ‘Don’t forget YouTube!’ puts in Dad. ‘Hundred thousand hits at the latest count!’

  Luke looks as though we all must have gone mad. ‘You’re joking,’ he says and we all shake our heads.

  ‘Wait till you see the tributes!’ says Mum. ‘And you’ve got your own Happy Birthday website!’

  ‘But … this is crazy.’ Luke puts a hand to his head. ‘I never celebrate my birthday. Who on earth …’

  ‘Becky’s been very busy,’ Bonnie says.

  ‘Trying to keep it secret!’ I exclaim indignantly. ‘Trying to stop people blabbing and posting stuff on the internet! It’s been like trying to keep control of an octopus.’

  ‘A drink, sir?’ A stunning male model wearing one of Danny’s Midsummer Night’s Dream costumes appears from nowhere. His thighs are clad in fur and there’s a wreath of leaves round his head, and his chest is bare and tanned, and very honed. (I think this is Danny’s own fantasy interpretation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, i.e. basically just a forest full of hot men.)

  The male model is holding out a wooden tray which looks like a slice of tree, bearing cocktails with silver tags. ‘I can offer you a Brandon, a Bloomwood, or a Minnie. And then if you and your wife would like to get changed before the show?’

  ‘The show?’ Luke turns to me. I raise my eyebrows mysteriously and squeeze his hand again.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  It’s the most incredible, blow-your-mind party. It just is.

  I mean, I know I helped organize it and everything, so I shouldn’t boast. I should be all modest and self-deprecating and say, ‘Oh, it was OK, I suppose,’ or ‘As parties go, it wasn’t bad,’ and shrug and change the subject and talk about the weather.

  But too bad, I’m not going to, I’m going to tell you the truth. Which is that it’s the most out-of-this-world party and everyone’s said so, even people who go to loads of parties like the Right Reverend St John Gardner-Stone, who turns out to be a total sweetie with a good line in knock-knock jokes.

  Everything so far has gone perfectly. When Luke had put on his dinner jacket and I was in my divine green dress, we took our seats on little chairs around the hall, drinks in hands, and a circus dance troupe performed the most amazing acrobatics all around us in the trees of the forest, with thumping music and laser lights flashing.

  Then came the fire-eaters – a Czech troupe who do all kinds of amazing stunts. (They included Alonzo/Alvin in the routine, because I told them they had to, and he looked totally terrified and exhilarated all the way through.)

  Then a massive screen came down from the ceiling, another soundtrack played, and all the YouTube tributes to Luke began, and I nearly cried.

  OK. I did kind of blink away a few tears.

  Not that any of them were any good. I mean, seeing a bunch of marketing executives from Kettering do a rubbishy ‘Happy birthday Luke da man’ rap into a shaky mobile phone isn’t exactly The Shawshank Redemption. But it was the fact of them. People I don’t even know, wishing Luke a happy birthday.

  Then we had video messages from all the friends who couldn’t be here, like Michael and Luke’s dad, followed by the text messages from the website, flashing up, one after another. And finally a clip I didn’t even know about, which Suze had been emailed ten minutes before we arrived, apparently. It starts off with Sage Seymour, on her film set, sitting on a director’s chair, saying ‘Luke, honey, where the hell ARE you?’ and pretending he’s supposed to be doing a scene with her, and it ends up with all the cast and crew wishing him happy birthday. Even the really famous ones.

  As soon as Sage appeared on the screen, Luke’s head whipped round to me, and he said, ‘How the fuck—’

  And I couldn’t help giggling, and whispering in his ear, ‘Luke, just face it. There’s no point trying to keep any secrets from me.’

  I was expecting him to laugh, but he didn’t. To be honest he looked a teeny bit freaked.

  Then we sat down for the most amazing feast in the Long Gallery, which was decorated with flower garlands and yet more plastic pom-poms. (I really did make a lot.) There were loads of speeches and Luke thanked everyone a zillion times and I thanked everyone a zillion times. Then Luke made a really touching speech about Annabel and the toy theatre and how special those memories were to him, and how he’d bought the same theatre for Minnie and hoped she would have the same memories of him one day. And everyone dabbed at their eyes.

  Oh, and he said some nice stuff about me. You know.

  Then the coffee came round with Suze’s special ‘Luke’s Waln
ut Shortbread’ and everybody oohed and aahed again, and I met Suze’s eyes and silently mouthed ‘Thank you’.

  Then the band appeared on stage in the East Hall (all Suze’s rooms have names). And now there’s dancing in there and mood-music-and-lounging-around-on-sofas in another huge room and people are still milling around the Midsummer Night’s Dream room, and later on there’ll be ice-cream and fireworks and a stand-up comedian, only Luke doesn’t know that yet.

  I’m watching him from my perch by the brook. He’s surrounded by old friends, holding Minnie in his arms, and I haven’t seen his face lit up like that for …

  I don’t know. Way too long.

  I’m just wondering which kind of cocktail to move on to next, when Suze comes swooshing up to me in her dress –which, I have to admit, is almost more fabulous than mine. It’s dark purple with a train and she got it in Paris from Christian Dior and wouldn’t tell me how much it cost, which means it was a squillion.

  ‘Bex, I don’t know what to do about …’ She pauses, then mouths, ‘Elinor.’

  ‘What about her?’ I look nervously around to check Luke isn’t in earshot. Suze leans close and breathes in my ear, ‘She’s still here.’

  I feel a bolt of shock. She’s here?

  Elinor told me a million times that she wasn’t staying for the party. She said she was leaving half an hour before we arrived. I just assumed she had.

  ‘But where …’ I look wildly around.

  ‘It’s my fault.’ Suze’s face crumples. ‘I just couldn’t bear for her not to see any of it. Not after everything she’s done. I knew she couldn’t actually come to the party … so I said, would she like to hide in the Priest’s Passage and watch?’

  Suze glances up meaningfully and I follow her gaze. There’s a tiny iron balcony at first-floor level, which I’ve never really noticed. But it’s empty.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I say stupidly. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Hidden behind a secret panel, looking out through a spyhole.’ Suze chews her lip anxiously. ‘She said she only wanted to see you and Luke arrive and know that everything had worked. She said she’d slip away after that. But I just got Tarkie to go and check her car – and it hasn’t left. She must still be there! She hasn’t had any food, she’s just standing in this tiny space … and I’m worried. What if she gets ill? I mean, how old is she?’