Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic 5-Book Bundle (95 page)

“Oh, she’s completely obsessed. So . . . if she ever rings again, just make an excuse and put the phone down. And whatever she says, even if it sounds quite plausible . . . don’t believe a word of it. Promise?”

“All right, love,” says Mum, nodding. “Whatever you say.”

As she goes into the kitchen, I hear her saying “Poor woman. You have to feel sorry for them, really. Graham, did you hear that? That lady from America who phoned for Becky. She’s in love with Luke!”

I can’t cope with this anymore.

I need to see Suze.

Thirteen

I
’
VE AGREED TO
meet Suze at Sloane Square for a cup of tea. There’s a crowd of tourists milling around when I arrive, and for a moment I can’t see her. Then the throng disperses—and there she is, sitting by the fountain, her long blond hair haloed by the sun, and the hugest stomach I’ve ever seen.

As I see her, I’m all set to rush up to her, exclaim, “Oh God, Suze, it’s all a nightmare!” and tell her everything.

But then I stop. She looks like an angel, sitting there. A pregnant angel.

Or the Virgin Mary, perhaps. All serene and lovely and perfect.

And suddenly I feel all messed up in comparison. I’d been planning to unburden the entire situation on Suze, like I always do, and wait for her to think of an answer. But now . . . I just can’t. She looks so calm and happy. It would be like dumping toxic waste in some beautiful clear sea.

“Bex! Hi!” As she sees me she stands up, and I feel a fresh shock at how . . . well, how big she looks.

“Suze!” I hurry toward her and give her a huge hug. “You look amazing!”

“I’m feeling great!” says Suze. “How are you? How’s the wedding?”

“Oh . . . I’m fine!” I say after a pause. “It’s all fine. Come on. Let’s go and have some tea.”

I’m not going to tell her. This is it. For once in my life, I’m going to sort out my problems on my own.

We go to Oriel and get a table by the window. When the waiter comes, I order hot chocolate, but Suze produces a tea bag and hands it to the waiter.

“Raspberry leaf tea,” she explains. “It strengthens the uterus. For labor.”

“Right.” I nod. “Labor. Of course!”

I feel a little shiver at the base of my spine and smile quickly to cover it.

Secretly, I’m really not at all convinced about this whole giving birth thing. I mean, look at the size of Suze’s bump. Look at the size of a full-grown baby. And then tell me
that’s
going to fit through . . .

I mean, I know the theory. It’s just . . . to be honest, I can’t see it working.

“When are you due again?” I say, staring at Suze’s stomach.

“Four weeks today!”

“So . . . it’s going to grow even bigger?”

“Oh yes!” Suze pats her bump fondly. “Quite a bit, I should think.”

“Good,” I say weakly, as a waiter puts a cup of hot chocolate in front of me. “Excellent. So . . . how’s Tarquin?”

“He’s fine!” says Suze. “He’s up on Craie at the moment. You know, his Scottish island? They’re lambing at the moment, so he thought he’d go and help out. Before the baby comes.”

“Oh right. And you didn’t go with him?”

“Well, it would have been a bit risky.” Suze stirs her raspberry tea thoughtfully. “And the thing is, I’m not
quite
as interested in sheep as he is. I mean, they are really interesting,” she adds loyally. “But you know, after you’ve seen a thousand of them . . .”

“But he’ll be back in time, will he?”

“Oh yes. He’s really excited! He’s been to all the classes and everything!”

God, I can’t believe in a few weeks’ time Suze will have a baby. I won’t even be here.

“Can I touch?” I put my hand gingerly on Suze’s stomach. “I can’t feel anything.”

“That’s all right,” says Suze. “I expect it’s asleep.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I haven’t found out.” Suze leans forward earnestly. “But I kind of think it’s a girl, because I keep being drawn to all these sweet little dresses in the shops. Like a kind of a craving? And they say in all the books, your body will tell you what it needs. So, you know, maybe that’s a sign.”

“So, what are you going to call her?”

“We can’t decide. It’s so hard! You know, you buy these books, and all the names are crap . . .” She takes a sip of tea. “What would you call a baby?”

“Ooh! I don’t know! Maybe Lauren, after Ralph Lauren.” I think for a few moments. “Or Dolce.”

“Dolce Cleath-Stuart,” says Suze thoughtfully. “I quite like that! We could call her Dolly for short.”

“Or Vera. After Vera Wang.”

“
Vera
?” Suze stares at me. “I’m not calling my baby Vera!”

“We’re not talking about your baby!” I retort. “We’re talking about mine. Vera Lauren Comme des Brandon. I think that’s got a really good ring to it.”

“Vera Brandon sounds like a character off
Coronation Street
! But I like Dolce. What about if it was a boy?”

“Harvey. Or Barney,” I say after a little thought. “Depending on whether it was born in London or New York.”

I take another sip of hot chocolate—then look up, to see Suze gazing at me seriously.

“You wouldn’t really have a baby in America, would you, Bex?”

“I . . . I don’t know. Who can tell? We probably won’t have children for years yet!”

“You know, we all really miss you.”

“Oh, not you, too, Suze.” I give a half-laugh. “I had Mum on at me today to move back to Oxshott.”

“Well, it’s true! Tarkie was saying the other day, London just isn’t the same without you.”

“Really?” I gaze at her, feeling ridiculously touched.

“And your mum keeps asking me if I think you’ll stay in New York forever . . . you won’t, will you?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I say helplessly. “It all depends on Luke . . . and his business . . .”

“He’s not the boss!” says Suze. “You have a say, too. Do you want to stay out there?”

“I don’t know.” I screw up my face, trying to explain. “Sometimes I think I do. When I’m in New York, it seems like the most important place in the world. My job is fantastic, and the people are fantastic, and it’s all wonderful. But when I come home, suddenly I think, Hang on, this is my home. This is where I belong.” I pick up a sugar packet and begin to shred it. “I just don’t know whether I’m ready to come home yet.”

“Oh, come back to England and have a baby!” says Suze wheedlingly. “Then we can be mummies together!”

“Honestly, Suze!” I take a sip of chocolate, rolling my eyes. “Like I’m really ready to have a baby!” I get up to go to the ladies’ room before she can say anything else.

On the other hand . . . she has got a point. Why shouldn’t I have a baby? Other people do—so why not me? I mean, if I could somehow bypass the actual
having
it bit. Maybe I could have one of those operations where you go to sleep and don’t feel anything. And then when I woke up I’d have a baby!

I have a sudden pleasant vision of Suze and me walking up the road together, pushing prams. That might be quite fun, actually. I mean, you can buy loads of gorgeous baby things these days. Like cute little hats, and tiny denim jackets . . . And—yes—doesn’t Gucci do a really cool baby sling?

We could have cappuccinos together, and walk round the shops, and . . . I mean, that’s basically all mothers do, isn’t it? Now that I think about it, I’d be perfect at it!

I must definitely have a chat with Luke.

It’s not until we’re leaving Oriel that Suze says, “So, Bex, you haven’t told me anything about the wedding!”

My stomach gives a little swoop, and I turn my head away, under the pretense of putting on my coat.

I’d kind of managed to forget about the whole wedding issue.

“Yes,” I say at last. “Well, it’s all . . . um . . . fine!”

I’m not going to bother Suze with my problems. I’m not.

“Was Luke all right about you getting married in England?” She looks anxiously at me. “I mean, it didn’t cause a rift between you or anything?”

“No,” I say after a pause. “I can honestly say that it didn’t.”

I hold the door open for her and we walk out into Sloane Square. A column of schoolchildren in corduroy knickerbockers is crowding the pavement, and we stand aside, waiting for them to pass.

“You know, you made the right decision.” Suze squeezes my arm. “I was so worried you were going to choose New York. What made you finally decide?”

“Er . . . this and that. You know. So, erm . . . did you read about these new proposals to privatize the water system?”

But Suze ignores me. Honestly, isn’t she interested in current affairs?

“So what did Elinor say when you called off the Plaza?”

“She said . . . erm . . . well, she wasn’t pleased, of course. She said she was very cross, and . . . er . . .”

“Very cross?” Suze raises her eyebrows. “Is that all? I thought she’d be furious!”

“She
was
furious!” I amend hurriedly. “She was so furious, she . . . burst a blood vessel!”

“She burst a blood vessel?” Suze stares at me. “Where?”

“On her . . . chin.”

There’s silence. Suze is standing still in the street, her expression slowly changing. “Bex—”

“Let’s go and look at baby clothes!” I say hurriedly. “There’s that really sweet shop on the King’s Road . . .”

“Bex, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“There is! I can tell. You’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You did call the American wedding off, didn’t you?”

“I . . .”

“Bex?” Her voice is as stern as I’ve ever heard it. “Tell me the truth.”

Oh God. I can’t lie any more.

“I . . . I’m going to,” I say weakly.

“You’re going to?” Suze’s voice rises in dismay. “You’re
going to
?”

“Suze—”

“I should have known! I should have guessed! But I just assumed you must have called it off, because your mother kept on organizing her wedding, and no one said anything about New York, and I thought, oh, Bex must have decided to get married at home after all . . .”

“Suze, please. Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly. “Just stay calm . . . breathe deeply . . .”

“How can I not worry about it!” cries Suze. “How can I not worry? Bex, you promised me you were going to sort this out weeks ago! You promised!”

“I know! And I’m going to. It’s just . . . it’s been so difficult. Deciding between them. They both seemed so perfect, in completely different ways—”

“Bex, a wedding isn’t a handbag!” says Suze incredulously. “You can’t decide you’ll treat yourself to two!”

“I know! I know! Look, I’m going to sort it out—”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because you’re all lovely and serene and happy!” I wail. “And I didn’t want to spoil it with my stupid problems.”

“Oh, Bex.” Suze gazes at me silently—then puts an arm round me. “So . . . what are you going to do?”

I take a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell Elinor the New York wedding is all off. And I’m going to get married here in England.”

“Really? You’re completely sure about that?”

“Yes. I’m sure. After seeing Mum and Dad . . . and Mum was so sweet . . . and she has no idea what I’ve been planning behind her back . . .” I swallow hard. “I mean, this wedding is everything to her. Oh God, Suze, I feel so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to get married at the Plaza. I don’t want to get married anywhere else except at home.”

“You won’t change your mind again?”

“No. Not this time. Honestly, Suze, this is it.”

“What about Luke?”

“He doesn’t care. He’s said all along, it’s up to me.”

Suze is silent for a moment. Then she reaches in her bag for her mobile phone and thrusts it at me.

“OK. If you’re going to do it, do it now. Dial the number.”

“I can’t. Elinor’s in a Swiss clinic. I was planning to write her a letter—”

“No.” Suze shakes her head firmly. “Do it now. There must be someone you can call. Call that wedding planner, Robyn, and tell her it’s off. Bex, you can’t afford to leave it any longer.”

“OK,” I say, ignoring the leap of apprehension inside me. “OK, I’ll do it. I’ll . . . I’ll call her.”

I lift up the phone—then put it down again. Making the decision in my head was one thing. Actually making the call is another.

What’s Robyn going to say? What’s everybody going to say? I wouldn’t mind a little time, just to think through exactly what I’m going to tell them . . .

“Go on!” says Suze. “Do it!”

“All right!”

With trembling hands I lift the phone and dial 001 for America—but the display remains blank.

“Oh . . . dear!” I exclaim, trying to sound upset. “I can’t get a signal! Oh well, I’ll just have to phone later—”

“No you won’t! We’ll keep walking till you get one. Come on!” Suze starts marching toward the King’s Road and I scuttle nervously along behind her.

“Try again,” she says as we reach the first pedestrian crossing.

“Nothing,” I quaver. God, Suze looks incredible, like the prow of a ship. Her blond hair is streaming out behind her, and her face is flushed with determination. How come she’s got so much energy, anyway? I thought pregnant women were supposed to take it easy.

“Try again!” she repeats after every three hundred feet. “Try again! I’m not stopping till you’ve made that call!”

“There’s nothing!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Frantically I punch at the buttons, trying to trigger a signal. “Look!”

“Well, keep trying! Come on!”

“I am! I am!”

“Oh my God!” Suze gives a sudden shriek and I jump in terror.

“I’m trying! Honestly, Suze, I’m trying as hard as I—”

“No! Look!”

I stop still, and turn round. She’s stopped still on the pavement, ten yards behind me, and there’s a puddle of water at her feet.

“Suze . . . don’t worry,” I say awkwardly. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“No! You don’t understand! It’s not . . .” She stares at me wildly. “I think my waters have broken!”

“Your what?” I feel a thud of pure fright. “Does that mean . . . Are you going to—”

This can’t be happening.

“I don’t know.” I can see panic rising on Suze’s face. “I mean, it’s possible . . . But it’s four weeks early! It’s too soon! Tarkie isn’t here, nothing’s ready . . . Oh God . . .”

I’ve never seen Suze look so scared before. A choking dismay creeps over me, and I fight the temptation to burst into tears. What have I done now? As well as everything else, I’ve sent my best friend into premature labor.

“Suze, I’m so sorry,” I gulp.

“It’s not your fault! Don’t be stupid!”

“It is! You were so happy and serene, and then you saw me. I should just stay away from pregnant people—”