Shopaholic & Baby (19 page)

“Don’t you have appointments with her?” Suze looks surprised.

“I have, but the last two times I’ve been to the clinic she was with a client in labor, and I got seen by one of her assistant doctors.”

“She’s avoiding you.” Suze gives a knowing nod and slurps on her straw, her brow furrowed. “Bex, I know this is a really dreadful thing to suggest…but what about looking at Luke’s texts?”

“I already have,” I admit.

“And?” Suze looks agog.

“They’re in Latin.”

“Latin?”

“They both studied Latin at university,” I say resentfully. “It’s their ‘thing.’ I don’t understand a word of it. But I wrote one down.” I reach in my pocket and unfurl a small bit of paper. “This is it.”

We both look at the words in silence.

Fac me laetam: mecum hodie bibe!

“I don’t like the sound of that,” says Suze at last.

“Nor do I.”

We both regard the words for a few moments longer, then Suze sighs and pushes the paper back toward me. “Bex, I hate to say it…but you should be on your guard. In fact, you should strike back. If she can spend all this time with Luke, then so can you. When was the last time you did something romantic, just the two of you?”

“Dunno. Not for ages.”

“Well, then!” Suze slaps the table triumphantly. “Go to his office and take him out for lunch as a surprise. He’d love that.”

That’s a good idea. I never want to bother Luke at work, because he’s so busy. But if Venetia can do it, then why can’t I?

“OK, I’ll try it,” I say, cheering up. “And I’ll let you know how it goes. Thanks, Suze.” I drain my smoothie and put my glass down with a flourish. “So.”

“So.” Suze meets my eyes. “Are you ready?”

“I think so.” I feel a squirm of nerves. “Let’s go!”

I pull the gender predictor box toward me along the counter and tug at the plastic wrapping, my hands trembling a little. In a matter of minutes I’ll know. This is almost as exciting as the birth itself!

I secretly think it’s a boy. Or maybe a girl.

“Hey, Bex, wait,” says Suze suddenly. “How will you fool Luke?”

“What do you mean?”

“When they deliver the baby! How will you convince him you didn’t know the sex beforehand?”

I stop ripping at the plastic. That’s a good point.

“I’ll just act surprised,” I say at last. “I’m really good at acting—look.” I put on my most astonished expression. “It’s a…boy!”

Suze pulls a face. “Bex, that was terrible!”

“I wasn’t ready,” I say hastily. “Let’s try again.” I concentrate for a moment, then gasp. “It’s a girl!”

Suze is shaking her head and wincing. “Totally fake! Bex, you need to get
into
your character. You need to use some Method.”

Oh no. Here we go. Suze went to drama school for a term before university, so she thinks she’s practically Judi Dench. (It wasn’t a real drama school, like RADA. It was a private one where your father pays and you do cooking in the afternoon. But we don’t mention that.)

“Stand up,” she instructs me. “Do some loosening-up exercises….” She rolls her head around and shakes out her arms. Reluctantly, I copy her. “Now, what’s your motivation?”

“Fooling Luke,” I remind her.

“No! Your
interior
motivation. Your
character
.” Suze closes her eyes for a moment, as if communing with the spirits. “You’re a new mother. You’re seeing your baby for the first time. You’re delighted…yet surprised…. The sex is not what you expected…. You’ve never been so amazed in your
life
…. Really
feel
it….”

“It’s…a
boy
!” I clutch at my chest. Suze is whirling her arms at me.

“More, Bex! Again, with passion!”

“It’s a boy! My God, it’s a BOY!!!” My voice resounds around the kitchen, and a spoon falls off the counter onto the floor.

“Hey, that was pretty good!” Suze looks impressed.

“Really?” I’m panting.

“Yes! You’ll definitely fool him. Let’s do the test.”

As I head to the sink for some water, Suze rips the box open and pulls out a syringe.

“Ooh, look,” she says cheerfully. “You have to have an injection.”

“An
injection
?” I look round in dismay.

“‘The blood test is quick and easy to perform,’” she reads aloud from the leaflet. “‘Simply ask a doctor, nurse, or other qualified person to take a vial of blood from a vein.’ Here’s the needle,” she adds, taking out a plastic box. “I’ll be the doctor.”

“Right.” I nod, trying to hide my qualms. “Er, Suze…have you ever actually done an injection before?”

“Oh, yes.” She nods confidently. “I’ve injected a sheep. Come on!” She’s fitting the needle to the syringe. “Roll up your sleeve!”

A sheep?

“So, what do we do with the vial of blood?” I ask, playing for time.

“We send it away to the lab,” says Suze, reaching for the leaflet. “‘Your results will be posted to you in anonymous, discreet packaging. Please expect them within’”—she turns the page—“‘approximately ten to twelve weeks.’”

What?

“Ten to twelve weeks?” I grab the leaflet from her. “What good is that? I’ll have
had
it by then.” I turn the pages over, trying to find some express delivery option, but there isn’t one. At last I give up and subside onto a bar stool in disappointment. “Twelve weeks. There’s no point even doing it!”

Suze sighs and sits down beside me. “Bex, didn’t you read any of the instructions before you bought this test? Didn’t you find out how it worked?”

“Well…no,” I admit. “I thought it would be like a pregnancy stick test. With a blue line and a pink line.”

Stupid rubbishy test. It cost me forty quid too. What a total rip-off. I mean, do they think pregnant women are
that
desperate to know what sex their baby is? It’s only a few months to wait, for goodness’ sake. And it’s not like it matters. As long as it’s a healthy baby, then really, what is the—

Suze breaks into my thoughts. “Shall we do the ring test again? See what it says?”

“Ooh!” I look up, brightening. “Yes, let’s.”

We do the ring test five times, and decide the odds are 3–2 on it being a boy. So we make a great big list of boys’ names and Suze tries to persuade me to call it Tarquin Wilfrid Susan. Yup. I don’t think so.

By the time she’s bundled up all the children, fed them lots of fish oil capsules (to counteract the dumbing-down effect of TV), and left, I feel a lot better. She’s right—Luke and I just need to spend a bit more time together. And I’ve thought of a much better plan than taking him out to lunch. I mean, he goes to boring old business lunches all the time. I want to do something different. Something
romantic
.

So the next day at work, I phone down to the Food Hall and order a picnic basket of all Luke’s favorite food. I’ve already checked with Mel, his assistant, and he hasn’t got any appointments booked for lunchtime. (I didn’t tell her why I was asking, because there’s no way she’d keep it secret.) My plan is to surprise him and have a picnic lunch in his office and it’ll be all intimate and lovely! I’ve even got them to put in a bottle of champagne, a checked cloth, and a plastic “picnic” candelabra from Homewares, just to set the scene.

As I set off for Luke’s office at lunchtime I’m feeling quite excited. It’s been ages since we did something spontaneous like this! Plus I haven’t been to Brandon Communications for weeks, and I’m looking forward to seeing everyone. There’s been the most amazing buzz at the company, ever since they won the Arcodas pitch. The Arcodas Group is so huge, and so different from all the financial clients they normally deal with, it’s been the biggest challenge they’ve ever faced. (I know this from helping Luke write his motivational speeches.)

But then, what is life without new adventures and new dreams? Brandon Communications is the best in the business, stronger and more dynamic every year, thriving on new enterprises. Together they can take on any challenge, meet it, and conquer it. As a team. As a
family
. (I wrote that bit.)

I arrive at the offices just before one, and sidle across the marble foyer to Karen, the receptionist. She’s talking to her colleague Dawn in a low voice, and she looks all pink and upset. I hope nothing’s wrong.

“It’s not right,” I can hear her saying in a guarded voice as I approach the desk. “It’s just not right. No one should behave like that, boss or no boss. I know I’m old-fashioned—”

“It’s not,” Dawn interrupts her. “It’s having respect for your fellow human beings.”

“Respect.” Karen nods vigorously. “How
she’s
feeling, poor thing…”

“Have you seen her? Since…” Dawn trails off meaningfully.

Karen shakes her head. “No one has.”

I’m following their conversation with slight unease. What are they talking about? Who’s “she”?

“Hi!” I say, and they both jump.

“Becky! Goodness!” Karen looks quite flustered at the sight of me. “What are you…Did we know you were coming today?” She starts leafing through the papers on her desk. “Dawn, is it in the appointment book?”

In the appointment book? Since when do I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?

“I just thought I’d surprise Luke. He’s free at lunchtime; I’ve already checked. So I thought we could have a nice picnic in his office!” I nod at the basket hanging on my arm.

I’m expecting them to say, “What a lovely idea!” But instead, Karen and Dawn both look kind of nervous.

“Right!” says Karen at last. “Well. Let’s just…see if…” She presses a couple of buttons on her switchboard. “Hello, Mel? It’s Karen at reception here. I have Becky here. Becky Brandon. She’s here to…surprise Luke.” There’s quite a long silence, during which Karen listens intently. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do that.” She looks up and smiles at me. “Take a seat, Becky. Someone will be with you shortly.”

Take a seat? Someone will be with me? What on earth has
happened
to them?

“Why don’t I just go straight up?” I suggest.

“We’re…not quite sure where Luke is.” Karen definitely looks shifty. “It’s probably better if you…” She clears her throat. “Adam will be down shortly.”

I don’t believe this. Adam Farr is head of corporate communications at Brandon C. He’s the guy they always summon for tricky situations. Luke says Adam is the consummate expert at handling people.

I’m being handled. Why am I being handled? What’s going on?

“Do take a seat, Becky!” Karen says, but I don’t move.

“I couldn’t help overhearing you earlier,” I say casually. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not!” Karen’s reply is too swift, as though she’s been waiting for me to ask. “We were talking about…something on TV last night. Weren’t we, Dawn?”

Dawn is nodding agreement, but her eyes are edgy.

“What about you?” says Karen. “Keeping well, are you, Becky?”

“Not long to go, is it?” puts in Dawn.

I try to think of a natural, friendly reply—but how can I? This whole conversation is fake. Just then, the lift doors open and Adam Farr strides out.

“Rebecca!” He has his corporate smile on and is slipping a BlackBerry into his pocket. “What a pleasure to see you!”

This guy may be the smoothest operator in the company. But he is
not
fobbing me off.

“Hi, Adam,” I say almost curtly. “Is Luke around?”

“He’s just finishing up a meeting,” says Adam without missing a beat. “Let’s go up and get you a coffee. I know everyone will be thrilled you’ve dropped by—”

“What meeting?” I interrupt him, and I swear I see Adam flinch.

“On finance,” he says after an infinitesimal pause. “Very dull, I’m afraid. Shall we?”

Adam ushers me into the lift and we travel up for a while in silence. Now that I’m up close to him, I can detect signs of strain in him, beneath the confident, business-y manner. There are shadows under his eyes, and he keeps tapping his fingertips together in the same rhythmic pattern, like a nervous tic.

“So…how’s life?” I say. “You must all be really busy, with the expansion and everything.”

“Absolutely.” He nods.

“And is it fun, working on all these different Arcodas projects?”

There’s silence. I can see Adam’s fingers tapping together faster and harder.

“Of course,” he says at last, and nods again. The lift doors open, and he shows me out before I can say anything else.

A few Brandon C staff are standing there, waiting for the lift, and I smile and say “Hi!” to the faces I know—but no one smiles back. At least not a genuine smile. Everyone seems taken aback to see me, and there are a few fake little flashes of teeth, and a couple of people say, “Hi, Becky,” and then look down awkwardly. But nobody stops to talk. Not even to ask about the baby.

Why is everyone being so
weird
? Over by the water cooler I can see a couple of girls talking in lowered voices and glancing at me when they think I’m not looking.

My stomach starts to churn. Oh God. Have I been totally naive? What do they know? What have they seen? A sudden vision comes to me, of Luke ushering Venetia down the corridor to his office, closing the door, and saying, “Please don’t disturb us for an hour.”

“Becky!” Luke’s resounding voice makes me jump. “Are you OK? What are you doing here?” He’s striding down the corridor toward me, flanked by his second-in-command, Gary, on one side, and some guy I don’t know on the other, with a bunch of people following in their wake. They all look fairly stressed out.

“I’m fine!” I say, trying to sound cheerful. “I just thought…we could have a picnic in your office.”

Now that I say it, in front of all his staff, it sounds really stupid. I feel like Pollyanna, holding this stupid wicker basket. There’s even a pink stripy bow tied round the handle, which I should have torn off.

“Becky, I have a meeting.” Luke shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“But Mel said you didn’t have anything booked!” My voice is more shrill than I intended. “She said you’d be free!”

Gary and the others glance at each other and melt away, leaving Luke and me alone. My cheeks are prickling with humiliation. Why should I be made to feel stupid and in everyone’s way, just for dropping in to see my husband?