Shopaholic to the Stars Page 11

  As I get Minnie ready for Little Leaf the next day, I’m still downcast. And my misery has been increased about a million-fold because we’ve had an email saying Alicia wants to address all the parents today about a fund-raiser, so could we all please stay behind after drop-off for an informal gathering.

  Which means, after managing to avoid her these last few days, I’ll have to face her again. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my cool.

  ‘What shall I do?’ I say to Minnie as I plait her wispy little locks into a braid.

  ‘Cup of tea,’ replies Minnie seriously, and passes me a plastic cocktail glass. We’re sitting on the terrace outside, which is where Minnie chooses to get dressed most mornings (I can’t blame her, with this lovely sunshine), and all her teddies and dolls are sitting around, with a cocktail glass each. As Luke steps out of the house, briefcase in hand, he looks aghast at the sight.

  ‘Is this Alcoholics Anonymous for teddies?’ he says.

  ‘No!’ I giggle. ‘They’re our garden cocktail glasses. Minnie found them in the outdoor kitchen. They won’t break, so I let her play with them.’

  ‘Daddy, cup of tea,’ says Minnie, handing him a cocktail glass.

  ‘OK,’ says Luke. ‘A quick cup of tea.’ He crouches down and takes the glass from her. A moment later, his gaze focuses on the teddy in front of him. Damn. I know what he’s seen. I should have hidden it.

  ‘Becky,’ he says. ‘Is that bear wearing my Asprey cufflinks? The ones you gave me?’

  ‘Er …’ I assume an innocent expression. ‘Let me see. Ah. Yes, I believe it is.’

  ‘And my Cartier watch.’

  ‘So it is.’

  ‘And that doll has got my old college tie on.’

  ‘Has it?’ I’m trying not to giggle again. ‘Well, Minnie wanted to dress her toys up. You should be flattered she chose your things.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Luke grabs his watch off the bear, ignoring Minnie’s protests. ‘I don’t notice you volunteering any of your priceless jewellery.’

  ‘Your cufflinks aren’t priceless!’

  ‘Maybe they’re priceless to me because they came from you.’ He raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a little flicker, because although I know he’s teasing me, I also know he means it.

  ‘Drink tea, Daddy!’ says Minnie sternly, and Luke puts his cocktail glass to his lips obediently. I wonder what all his board members in London would say if they could see him now.

  ‘Luke …’ I bite my lip.

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  I wasn’t planning on bothering him with my problems, but I can’t help myself.

  ‘What am I going to do about Alicia?’

  ‘Alicia,’ says Luke tersely, and raises his eyes to heaven. ‘God help us.’

  ‘Exactly! But here she is, and I’m going to see her today at pre-school, and everyone thinks she’s marvellous, and I want to yell, “If only you knew what an evil witch she is!”’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t do that,’ says Luke, looking amused. ‘Not in public.’

  ‘It’s OK for you! You’re really good when you meet people you don’t like. You just go all calm and stony. I get all flustered.’

  ‘Just think dignified. That’s my best advice.’

  ‘Dignified!’ I echo, despairingly, and Minnie perks up.

  ‘Digna-dive,’ she enunciates carefully, and Luke and I both laugh, whereupon she says it again, beaming back at us. ‘Digna-dive. Digna-dive!’

  ‘That’s it,’ says Luke. ‘Digna-dive. I have to go.’ He rises to his feet, swiping his Asprey cufflinks off the teddy bear as he does so. I take a pretend swig of my tea, wishing it was a real cocktail, and that Luke could take the day off, and that Alicia lived in Timbuktu. ‘Sweetheart, don’t fret,’ says Luke, as though reading my thoughts. ‘You’ll be fine. Chin up, eyes flinty.’

  I can’t help giggling, as that’s exactly how he looks when he’s angry with someone but isn’t about to make a scene.

  ‘Thanks.’ I put an arm around him and kiss him. ‘You’re the most digna-dive person I know.’

  Luke clicks his heels and bows like an Austrian prince, and I laugh again. I truly do have the best husband in the world. And I’m not biased at all.

  As I arrive at Little Leaf, I’m resolved. Luke has inspired me. I’m going to be totally serene and not let Alicia get to me. Minnie prances off straight away to play with her friends, and I head for the parents’ lounge, which is where Alicia is apparently giving her talk. I can hear a vacuum cleaner operating inside, so I assume the room isn’t ready yet, and lean against the wall to wait. A few moments later I hear footsteps, and Alicia appears round the corner, immaculately dressed as ever in yoga wear, and holding what looks like a brand-new Hermès bag.

  OK, here I go. Chin up. Eyes flinty. Stay calm.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, trying to sound detached, yet engaged, yet unflustered, while maintaining the moral high ground. All in two syllables.

  ‘Becky.’ Alicia gives a nod and leans against the wall directly opposite me. I feel as though we’re in some weird game of chess, only I don’t know what the next move is.

  Anyway. It’s not chess, I tell myself. This isn’t a battle. I’m not even going to think about Alicia. I’m going to … check my phone. Yes. As I start to read through a bunch of messages I’ve read before, I see that Alicia is doing the same thing, opposite. Only she keeps laughing softly, and shaking her head and exclaiming, ‘You’re kidding! Oh, hilarious,’ as though to demonstrate what an entertaining life she leads.

  I’m furiously telling myself not to notice her, not to think about her … but I can’t help it. Our mutual past keeps flashing through my head like a film. All the times she’s undermined me, all her scheming, all her bitchiness …

  My chest is starting to rise and fall in indignation, my fingers are clenching, my jaw is tightening. After a few moments, Alicia clearly notices, because she puts down her phone and surveys me as though I’m an interesting curiosity.

  ‘Rebecca,’ she says, in that new-agey, softly-softly way she has that makes me want to slap her. ‘I know you’re hostile towards me.’

  She pronounces it ‘hostel’ now. Of course she does.

  ‘Hostile?’ I stare at her incredulously. ‘Of course I’m hostile!’

  Alicia says nothing but just sighs, as though to say, How sad that you feel this way, but I have no idea why.

  ‘Alicia,’ I say evenly. ‘Do you actually remember the way you’ve behaved towards me over the years? Or have you blanked it all out?’

  ‘Let me tell you a little about my journey,’ says Alicia seriously. ‘When I met Wilton I was in a very unhappy place. I believed I was deficient in every possible way. He helped me to self-actualize.’

  Argh. Self-actualize. What does that mean, even? Self-obsess, more like.

  ‘The old Alicia was in a very toxic cycle.’ She looks wistful. ‘The old Alicia was still a child in many ways.’ She’s talking as though ‘the old Alicia’ has nothing to do with her.

  ‘That was you,’ I remind her.

  ‘I know our relationship in the past was maybe …’ She pauses as though to select the right word. ‘Unbalanced. But now I’ve righted the scales, we should move on, no?’

  ‘Righted the scales?’ I stare at her. ‘What scales?’

  ‘Why else did I recommend your daughter to Little Leaf?’ she says, looking supremely pleased with herself.

  The pieces suddenly fall into place in my head.

  ‘You recommended Minnie … what, to make amends?’

  Alicia simply bows her head with a faint smile, as though she’s Mother Theresa giving me benediction.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she says.

  Welcome? I’m prickling all over in horror. I feel like striding into the toddler playground, plucking Minnie out and leaving Little Leaf for ever. Except that would be unfair to Minnie.

  ‘So you think we’re quits now?’ I say, just to make sure I’ve got this right. ‘You think everything
’s square?’

  ‘If that’s the way you see it, then that works.’ She shrugs easily. ‘For me, the world isn’t so linear.’ She gives me a patronizing smile, just like she used to when she was in financial PR and I was a journalist and her suit was more expensive than mine and we both knew it.

  ‘Forget linear!’ My thoughts are so scattered and furious, I’m finding it hard to articulate them. Let alone stay digna-dive. ‘Just answer me one question, Alicia. Are you actually sorry for anything you did to me? Are you sorry?’

  The words hang in the air like a challenge. And as I stare at her, my heart is suddenly pounding in expectation. My cheeks are hot and I feel like a ten-year-old in the playground. After all the damage she caused Luke and me, if she really wants to make amends, she has to say sorry. She has to say it and mean it. I’m holding my breath, I realize. I’ve been waiting to hear this for a long time. An apology from Alicia Bitch Long-legs.

  But there’s silence. And as I look up to meet her blue eyes, I know she’s not going to do it. Of course she isn’t. All this talk of amends. She isn’t sorry a bit.

  ‘Rebecca …’ she says thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re obsessed.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re still an evil witch!’ The words burst from me before I can stop them, and I hear a loud gasp from behind me. I wheel round to see a cluster of mothers standing behind us in the corridor, all with eyes wide and some with hands to their mouths.

  My heart plummets. They all heard me. And they all love Alicia. They would never understand in a million years.

  ‘Rebecca, I know you didn’t mean that,’ says Alicia at once, in her most syrupy, new-agey voice. ‘You’re at a stressed time in your life, it’s understandable, we’re all here for you …’ She reaches for my hand, and in a slight daze, I let her hold it.

  ‘Queenie, sweetheart, you’re so understanding!’ exclaims Carola, shooting me daggers.

  ‘Queenie, are you OK?’ chimes in Sydney as she walks into the parents’ lounge. As the other mothers file past, everyone has a kind word for Alicia and everyone avoids looking at me. It’s like I’ve got an infectious disease.

  ‘I’m going,’ I mutter, and pull my hand away from Alicia’s cool grasp.

  ‘Not coming to the talk, Rebecca?’ says Alicia sweetly. ‘You’re very welcome.’

  ‘Not this time,’ I say, and turn on my heel. ‘Thanks anyway.’ As I stride away down the corridor, my head is high but my face is puce and I’m dangerously near tears. I failed and Alicia won again. How come she won again? How is this fair?

  As I get back home, I feel at my lowest ebb since we’ve arrived in LA. It’s all going wrong, in every direction. I’ve failed on my mission to meet Nenita Dietz. I’ve failed on my mission to make lots of new friends. Everyone at Little Leaf will think I’m some awful psycho.

  I’m just going into the kitchen and wondering whether to pour myself a glass of wine, when my phone rings. To my surprise, it’s Luke. He doesn’t usually phone in the middle of the day.

  ‘Becky! How’s it going?’

  He sounds so warm and kind and familiar that for an awful moment I think I might burst into tears.

  ‘I just saw Alicia,’ I say, slumping into a chair. ‘Tried to be digna-dive.’

  ‘How’d that work out?’

  ‘Well, you know how you said not to call her an evil witch? I called her an evil witch.’

  Luke’s laugh is so hearty and reassuring, I feel better at once.

  ‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘Just ignore her. You’re so much bigger than her, Becky.’

  ‘I know, but she’s at school every day, and everyone thinks she’s lovely …’ I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t really get the whole school-gate thing. Whenever he picks Minnie up he strides straight to the door and leads her away and doesn’t even seem to notice that there are any other parents. Let alone what they’re wearing or gossiping about, or what sidelong looks they’re shooting at whom.

  ‘Are you at home?’ he says now.

  ‘Yes, just got back. Why, have you forgotten something? D’you want me to bring it in?’

  ‘No.’ Luke pauses. ‘Now, Becky, I want you to relax.’

  ‘OK,’ I say, puzzled.

  ‘Please stay relaxed.’

  ‘I am relaxed!’ I say impatiently. ‘Why do you keep telling me to relax?’

  ‘Because there’s been a change of plan. I’m coming back home to hold a meeting at the house. With …’ He hesitates. ‘With Sage.’

  It’s as if lightning zings through me. I sit bolt upright, every nerve alive. My misery has vanished. Alicia suddenly seems irrelevant to my life. Sage Seymour? Here? What shall I wear? Have I got time to wash my hair?

  ‘We probably won’t see you,’ Luke’s saying. ‘We’ll probably just go into the library. But I wanted to warn you.’

  ‘Right,’ I say breathlessly. ‘Do you want me to sort out some snacks? I could make some cupcakes. Quinoa ones,’ I add hastily. ‘I know she likes quinoa.’

  ‘Darling, you don’t need to make any special effort.’ Luke seems to think for a moment. ‘In fact, maybe you should go out.’

  Go out? Go out? Is he mad?

  ‘I’m staying here,’ I say firmly.

  ‘OK,’ says Luke. ‘Well … I’ll see you in about half an hour.’

  Half an hour! I put the phone down and look around the house in sudden dissatisfaction. It doesn’t look nearly cool enough. I should rearrange the furniture. I have to choose the right outfit, too, and do my make-up again … But first things first. I grab my phone and text Suze and Mum, my fingers clumsy with excitement: Guess what? Sage is coming to our house!!!

  Somehow, half an hour later I’m almost ready. I’ve washed my hair and blasted it with the hairdryer, and I’ve got Velcro rollers in (I’ll quickly take them out when I hear the car). I’ve moved the sofas around in the living room and plumped up the cushions. I’m wearing my new slip dress from Anthropologie and I’ve memorized the storylines of all Sage’s forthcoming films, which I Googled.

  I have a couple of complete outfits ready for Sage, but I won’t show them to her at once. I don’t want her to feel bombarded. In fact, I’m going to have to do this subtly, as I know Luke won’t appreciate me hijacking his meeting. I’ll just be very casual about it, I decide. I’ll have the brocade coat lying about and she’ll admire it and try it on and it will all snowball from there.

  The sound of an engine comes distantly from the front of the house, followed by that of car doors. They’re here! I put up a hand to smooth down my hair – then suddenly remember my Velcro rollers. Quickly I start pulling them out and hurling them one by one behind a big potted plant. I shake out my hair, casually recline on the sofa and grab Variety, which is a brilliant accessory as it instantly makes you look like a cool movie person.

  I can hear the front door opening. They’re coming in. Stay calm, Becky … stay cool …

  ‘… go into the library, I thought.’ Luke is speaking. ‘Sage, meet my wife, Becky.’

  My face starts prickling as three figures appear round the door. Oh my God. It’s her. It’s her! Right here in this room! She’s smaller than I expected, with tiny bronzed arms and that familiar treacly hair. Clothes: teeny white jeans, orange flats, a little grey vest and The Jacket. The Jacket. I can’t believe she’s wearing it! It’s pale, buttery suede and she was wearing it in US Weekly last week. It was in ‘Who Wore It Best?’ and she won. Of course she did.

  I’ve met Aran before: he’s Sage’s manager. He’s tall and buff and blond, with blue eyes and slanty eyebrows, and kisses me politely in greeting.

  ‘Hi, Becky,’ Sage says pleasantly. ‘We spoke on the phone, right? For Luke’s party.’

  She’s got the most amazing accent. It’s mostly American, but with a hint of French, because her mother’s half-French and she spent her early childhood in Switzerland. People magazine once called it ‘the sexiest accent alive’ and I kind of agree.

  ‘We did,’ I gulp. ‘Yes. Hi.�
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  I try to think of something else to say … something witty … come on, Becky … but something’s wrong with my head. It’s gone blank. All I can think is, It’s Sage Seymour! In my living room!

  ‘You have a nice yard,’ says Sage, as though she’s making a really deep pronouncement.

  ‘Thank you. We like it.’ Luke strides ahead and pushes open the glass doors to the garden. Sage and Aran follow him out and I follow behind. We all look at the inviting blue of the pool, and I urgently try to think of something to say. But it’s like my brain has been replaced by cotton wool.

  ‘Shall we sit out here?’ says Luke, gesturing to our outdoor dining table. It has a massive parasol above it and the pool guy hoses it every day to keep it clean.

  ‘Sure.’ Sage slides gracefully into a chair, followed by Aran.

  ‘There’s water in the chiller …’ Luke hands bottles around.

  ‘Can I get anyone coffee?’ Finally I manage to string two words together.

  ‘No thanks,’ says Aran politely.

  ‘I think we’re fine, Becky,’ says Luke. ‘Thanks.’ He gives me a nod which I understand. It means, Leave us alone now. I’ll just pretend I didn’t see it.

  As the three start getting out folders and papers, I hurry back into the house, grab the brocade coat, a belt and a pair of shoes, and zoom back out into the garden. I arrive breathlessly next to Sage and hold the coat out on one arm.

  ‘I just bought this,’ I say chattily. ‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’

  Sage surveys the coat. ‘Cute,’ she says with a nod, and turns back to a page of photocopied press clippings.

  ‘D’you want to try it on?’ I say casually. ‘I’m sure it’s your size. It would really suit you.’

  Sage gives me an absent smile. ‘No, that’s OK,’ she says.

  I stare at her in slight shock. It’s so beautiful, I was sure she’d want to try it on. Well, maybe she’s just not into coats.

  ‘I bought this belt, too.’ I quickly proffer the belt. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’

  The belt is from Danny’s new collection. It’s black suede, with three chunky buckles in green resin. You’d put it on over a simple dress and the whole outfit would pop.