Shopaholic and Sister Page 6

  “Wow!” I say politely. “That’s great!”

  An oven timer suddenly starts pinging, and I look up in surprise. Has Mum taken to baking while we’ve been away?

  “Are you cooking something?” I peer at the oven, which appears to be dead.

  “No!” Mum gives a trill of laughter. “That’s to remind me to check eBay.”

  “eBay?” I stare at her. “What do you mean, eBay?”

  How would Mum know about eBay? She doesn’t know anything about computers. Two years ago I suggested she give Luke a new mouse mat for Christmas and she went to a pet shop.

  “You know, darling! Internet shopping. I’m bidding on a Ken Hom wok, a pair of candlesticks”—she pulls a flowery notepad out of her pocket and consults it—“oh yes, and a hedge trimmer for Dad. Used only once!”

  “eBay is marvelous!” chimes in Janice. “Such fun. Have you used it, Becky?”

  “Well… no.”

  “Oh, you’d love it,” says Mum at once. “Although I couldn’t get through last night to check on my Portmeirion plates.” She clicks her tongue. “I don’t know what was wrong.”

  “The domain servers were probably down,” Janice says knowledgeably. “I’ve been having trouble with my modem all week. Biscuit, Becky?”

  I cannot get my head round this. Mum? On eBay? Next she’ll be saying she’s up to level six on Tomb Raider.

  “But… you haven’t even got a computer,” I say. “You hate modern technology.”

  “Not anymore, love! Janice and I did a course. We’ve gone broadband!” She looks at me seriously. “Let me give you a word of advice, Becky. If you’re going broadband, I’d install a decent firewall.”

  OK. This is all wrong. Parents are not supposed to know more about computers than their children. I nod carelessly and take a sip of coffee, trying to hide the fact that I don’t have a clue what a firewall is.

  “Jane, it’s ten to twelve,” Janice says cautiously to Mum. “Are you going to…”

  “I don’t think so,” Mum says. “You go on.”

  “What is it?” I look from face to face. “Is something wrong?”

  “Of course not!” says Mum, putting down her coffee cup. “It’s just we agreed to go to the Marshalls’ lunch party today, with Janice and Martin. But don’t worry. We’ll send our apologies.”

  “Don’t be silly!” I say at once. “You must go. We don’t want to mess up your day.”

  There’s a pause.

  “Are you sure?” says Mum.

  She wasn’t supposed to say that. She was supposed to say, “How could my precious daughter mess up my day?”

  “Of course!” I say, in overbright tones. “You go to your lunch party and we’ll have a proper chat later.”

  “Well, OK,” says Mum. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’ll pop over and get ready,” says Janice. “Lovely to see you back, Becky!”

  As she disappears through the kitchen door I look at Dad, who’s still staring out the window, brooding.

  “Are you OK, Dad?” I say. “You’ve been really quiet.”

  “Sorry,” he says, turning round with a quick smile. “I’m just a little distracted at the moment. Thinking about… a golf match I’ve got next week. Very important.” He mimes playing a putt.

  “Right,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.

  But inside I feel more and more uneasy. He’s not really thinking about golf. Why is he so cagey?

  What is going on?

  “So…” I say lightly. “Who was that I saw you with earlier? That woman you were with.”

  It’s like I’ve let off a gunshot or something. Mum and Dad are both paralyzed. I can see their eyes darting toward each other, then looking away again. They both look totally panic-stricken.

  “Woman?” says Mum at last. “I didn’t…” She looks at Dad. “Did you see a woman, Brian?”

  “Maybe Becky means… that passerby,” he says in a stilted tone.

  “That’s right!” exclaims Mum in her theatrical voice again. “There was a woman just passing by on the street. A stranger. That must have been it, love.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  I try to smile, but inside I feel a bit sick. Are Mum and Dad lying to me?

  “Well… you go off to your lunch party!” I say. “Have a great time!”

  As the front door slams I feel like bursting into tears. I was so looking forward to today. But now I almost wish we’d never come back. No one seems particularly excited to see us. My rare, exotic treasure isn’t exotic or rare. And why are Mum and Dad being so weird?

  “Do you want another cup of coffee?” asks Luke.

  “No, thanks.” I scuff my foot on the kitchen floor.

  “Are you OK, Becky?”

  “No,” I admit in a small voice. “Not really. Coming home isn’t like I thought it would be.”

  “Come here.” Luke holds out his arms and I nestle into his chest. “What were you expecting? That they would drop everything and throw a party?”

  “No! Of course not!” I look up and meet Luke’s eye. “Well… maybe. Kind of. We’ve been away all this time and it’s like… we just popped out to the shops!”

  “It was always going to be a gamble, surprising everyone,” he says reasonably. “They weren’t expecting us for another two months. It’s no wonder they’re a bit thrown.”

  “I know. But it’s not just that.” I take a deep breath. “Luke — do you think Mum and Dad are… hiding something?”

  “Yes,” says Luke.

  “Yes?”

  I’m gobsmacked. I was expecting him to say, “Becky, you’re imagining things,” like he usually does.

  “There’s certainly something going on.” Luke pauses. “And I think I know what it might be.”

  “What?” I stare at him, agog.

  “That woman who was with them. The one they wouldn’t tell us about? I reckon she’s an estate agent. I think they’re considering moving.”

  “Moving?” I echo in dismay. “Why would they do that? This is a lovely house! It’s perfect!”

  “It is a bit big for them now that you’ve gone… ”

  “But why on earth wouldn’t they tell me?” My voice rises in distress. “I’m their daughter! I’m their only child! They should confide in me!”

  “Maybe they thought you might get upset.” Luke suggests.

  “I wouldn’t get upset!” I exclaim indignantly.

  Abruptly I realize I am upset.

  “Well, OK, maybe I would. But still, I can’t believe they’d keep it a secret!”

  I break away from Luke’s arms and walk over to the window. I can’t bear the idea of Mum and Dad selling this place. My eyes sweep over the garden in sudden nostalgia. They can’t leave this garden. They just can’t. This is where I learned to walk. This is where Luke and I got married.

  Suddenly my attention is caught by the sight of Tom Webster in the garden next door. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that says MY WIFE LEFT ME AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT and is struggling to carry the hugest plank of wood I’ve ever seen.

  Blimey. He looks quite ferocious.

  “It may not be that,” Luke is saying behind me. “I may be wrong.”

  “You’re not wrong.” I turn round miserably. “It has to be that. What else could it be?”

  “Well… don’t think about it. Come on. It’s the christening tomorrow. You’ll see Suze!”

  “Yes.” I feel my spirits rise. “That’s true.”

  Luke’s right. Maybe today hasn’t gone quite according to plan — but tomorrow will be fantastic. I’ll be reunited with Suze again, my best, most closest friend in the whole entire world. I just can’t wait.

  Five

  THE TWINS’ CHRISTENING is being held at Suze’s parents’ house in Hampshire, because they’ve been living there while the east wing of Tarquin’s Scottish castle is being rebuilt. They would have used his house in Pembrokeshire, but at the moment it’s being lived in by
some distant cousins. And his house in Sussex is being used as a location for a Jane Austen film.

  This is what Suze’s family is like. Nobody has just one house.

  As we drive down the familiar tree-lined avenue I’m jumping with excitement. The stone house looks as huge and grand as ever with its pillared entrance, although some of the ivy has been pruned away from the front. Two stone griffins stand like sentries by the front door, and there are flower garlands around their heads, just like there were on Suze’s wedding day.

  “Hurry up!” I say as Luke maneuvers the car into a parking space. He hasn’t even turned off the engine before I’m leaping out of the car and sprinting over the gravel toward the house. Now that I’m here, I just can’t wait to see Suze!

  The heavy front door is ajar and I push it open. Inside, the huge flagstone hall is decorated with the most amazing arrangements of lilies. A pair of waiters are striding through with champagne glasses on a tray. And on the ancient chair by the fireplace is a discarded saddle. Nothing’s changed here, then.

  The waiters disappear down a corridor, and I’m left alone. Walking over the flagstones, I suddenly feel a bit nervous. What if Suze has gone all weird, like my parents?

  And then I spot her through an open door, standing in the drawing room. Her blond hair is up in a chignon and she’s wearing a gorgeous print wrap dress. And in her arms is a tiny baby dressed in a long christening robe. Wow. That must be one of the twins.

  Tarquin is standing nearby holding a second baby, which is also in a christening robe. And although he’s wearing the most ancient suit in the world, he’s actually looking pretty good! Not quite as… stoaty. It occurs to me that maybe Tarquin will get better looking the older he gets. When he’s fifty he’ll probably be a sex god!

  A blond-haired toddler is clutching his leg and, as I watch, Tarquin gently prizes his fingers off.

  “Ernie,” he says patiently.

  Ernie? I feel an almighty shock. My godson, Ernest? But last time I saw him he was a tiny little baby.

  “Wilfie looks like a girl!” Suze is saying to Tarquin, her brow crumpled in that familiar way. “And Clementine looks like a boy!”

  “My sweet, they both look exactly like babies in christening robes,” says Tarquin.

  “What if they’re both gay?” Suze is looking anxiously at Tarquin. “What if their hormones got mixed up when they were in the womb?”

  “They’re fine!”

  I feel ridiculously shy, hovering by the door. I don’t want to interrupt. They look like a family. They are a family.

  “What’s the time?” Suze tries to consult her watch, but Ernie is now clinging to her arm, trying to jump up. “Ernie, sweetheart, I need to do my lipstick! Leave Mummy’s arm alone… Can you take him for a sec, Tarkie?”

  “Let me just put Clemmie down somewhere… ” Tarquin starts looking around the room as though a cot might magically spring up out of nowhere.

  “I’ll take her if you like,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.

  Suze whips round.

  “Bex?” Her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “Bex?”

  “We’re back!” I try to sound cool. “Surprise!”

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  Suze thrusts the baby at Tarquin, who manfully does a kind of juggling act with the two of them. She races toward me and throws her arms around my neck.

  “Bex! Mrs. Brandon!”

  “Mrs. Cleath-Stuart!” I return, feeling tears prick at my eyes. I knew Suze wouldn’t have changed. I knew it.

  “I can’t believe you’re back!” Suze’s face is glowing. “Tell me all about your honeymoon! Tell me every single thing you—” She breaks off suddenly, staring at my bag. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “Is that a real Angel bag?”

  Ha! You see? People who know, know.

  “Of course it is.” I swing it nonchalantly on my arm. “Just a little souvenir from Milan. Er… I wouldn’t mention it in front of Luke, though,” I add, lowering my voice. “He doesn’t exactly know about it.”

  “Bex!” says Suze half reprovingly, half laughing. “He’s your husband!”

  “Exactly.” I meet her eye, and we both start giggling.

  God, it’s like I never left.

  “So, how’s married life?” asks Suze.

  “It’s perfect.” I sigh happily. “Totally blissful. Well, you know. Like couples are on their honeymoon!”

  “I was pregnant on our honeymoon.” Suze looks a bit discomfited. She reaches out and strokes the Angel bag in awe. “I didn’t even know you were going to Milan! Where else did you go?”

  “We went everywhere! All over the world!”

  “Did you go to the ancient shrine of Mahakala?” A booming voice comes from the doorway. I swivel round to see Suze’s mother, Caroline, coming into the room. She’s dressed in the strangest dress I’ve ever seen, made out of what looks like pea green canvas, accessorized with maroon tights and clumpy suede boots.

  I have never seen Caroline in a normal outfit, ever.

  “Yes!” I say in delight. “We did!”

  It was Caroline who got me into the idea of traveling in the first place, when she told me her best friend in the world was a Bolivian peasant.

  “The ancient Incan city of Ollantaytambo?”

  “We stayed there!”

  Caroline’s eyes gleam as though I’ve passed the test, and I feel a glow of pride. I am a genuine traveler! I won’t add that we were in the five-star spa.

  “Now, where’s my hat?” She frowns, looking around. “I’ve mislaid it.”

  “The African headdress one?” says Suze, flushing. “Er… I don’t know!”

  I give her a piercing look. She’s hidden her mum’s hat, I know it.

  “Caroline!” Suze’s father’s voice comes resounding through the air, and the next moment he’s coming into the hall, dressed in a paisley silk dressing gown over a pair of pin-striped trousers. His hair is white and bushy, and his nose has become a lot redder in the year since I last saw him. In fact, it’s practically purple.

  “Hello, Sir Gilbert,” I begin politely. “How are you—”

  “Caroline!” he repeats, totally ignoring me. “Fella says we could have a lion in the front paddock. He’ll ship it over, do all the paperwork. What about it?” Sir Gilbert’s bright blue eyes flash with excitement. “That’d add a bit of spice to life, eh?” He gives a sudden lionlike roar, and I jump.

  “A lion?” Suze says in horror. “Daddy, you can’t have a lion here! It’ll eat the babies!”

  “Gilbert, the lion belongs in the wild.” Caroline looks thunderous. “Free to roam its natural world. Anyone who has crossed the Serengeti Plain and seen a pride feeding at dawn…”

  “Why does your dad want a lion?” I murmur to Suze as Caroline continues.

  “He wants to start a zoo and open it to the public,” Suze mutters back. “It’s one of his mad schemes. Like the tortoises, remember?”

  About four years ago, when Suze and I were sharing a flat in London, her father decided to become a tortoise breeder, and it was us who had to take a delivery of twenty baby tortoises and look after them all weekend.

  “The noble animal looked at me,” Caroline is declaiming momentously, “and a deep understanding seemed to pass between us… ”

  “You can look at my lion if you like,” says Sir Gilbert. “In its cage.” He bellows with laughter. “Eh?”

  He looks so pleased with himself, and Caroline looks so disapproving, I can’t help a giggle. I just love Suze’s family. God, it’s good to be back.

  “Maybe I’ll go over to the church,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I’ll see you later…”

  “That reminds me!” Caroline breaks off. “I saw the vicar and he was saying some rubbish about warm water for the baptism. I said absolutely not! A bit of cold water’ll do these infants the power of good.”

  “Mummy!” wails Suze. “I especially asked for warm water! They’re still so tiny!”
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  “Nonsense!” booms Caroline. “At their age, you were swimming in the lake! At the age of six months you were trekking with me up the Tsodilo Hills of Botswana. No warm water there!”

  Suze gives me a despairing look, and I grin back sympathetically.

  “I’d better go,” she says. “Bex, I’ll see you afterwards. You will stay a couple of days, won’t you?”

  “We’d love to!” I say happily.

  “Oh, and you must meet Lulu!” she adds, halfway out the door.

  “Who’s Lulu?” I call back, but she doesn’t hear.

  Oh, well. I’ll soon find out. It’s probably her new horse, or something.

  I find Luke outside, where a tented walkway has been set up between the house and the church, just like at Suze’s wedding. As we start walking along the matting, I can’t help feeling a tingle of nostalgia. It was here that we first talked about getting married, in a roundabout sort of way. And then Luke proposed.

  And now here we are. Married for nearly a year!

  I hear footsteps coming up behind and look round to see Tarquin hurrying along the matting, holding a baby.

  “Hi, Tarkie!” I say as he joins us. “So… which twin is this?”

  “This one is Clementine,” says Tarquin, beaming. “Our little Clemmie.”

  I peer more closely, and try to hide my surprise. Blimey. Suze is right. She does look like a boy.

  “She’s beautiful!” I say quickly. “Absolutely gorgeous!”

  I’m trying to think of something to say which will emphasize her very feminine qualities, when there’s a faint sound from up above. A kind of chopper-chopper-chopper. Now it’s getting louder. I look up, and to my astonishment, a huge black helicopter is approaching. In fact… it’s landing, on the field behind the house.

  “Do you have a friend with a helicopter?” I say, amazed.

  “Um… actually, that’s mine,” says Tarquin bashfully. “Lent it to a friend for a spin.”

  Tarquin has a helicopter?