Shopaholic to the Stars

by Sophie Kinsella

  He’s sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a beer, and his face is resolutely turned away from me. As I look at him, I feel a kind of plunging inside. We aren’t right. We aren’t us. It’s not that we’ve rowed again, it’s almost worse. We’re not making proper eye contact, and neither of us has mentioned our talk this morning. The only time I’ve seen Luke smile today was earlier on, when he was on the phone with Gary, his colleague.

  Gary is in New York right now but flying back to London tomorrow morning. They were talking about the Treasury meeting and Luke seemed all fired up. He kept dropping in ‘Number 10’ and ‘policy’ and I could tell his brain was whizzing with ideas. He kept laughing at things that Gary said, and he seemed in a better mood than he has been for days.

  I really, really hate to say it … but I think the truth is that high finance suits him better than movie stars.

  Dad is still out, which I’m a bit relieved about, because he’d only want to join in the intervention and start telling Elinor she’d be a nice-looking girl if she’d get a bit of meat on her bones. And I haven’t heard from Suze since I saw her this morning, except for one text asking me to pick up the children from their activity clubs. I know she came back again to the house earlier, because Mitchell told me. Apparently she was still with Alicia and still looking for Tarquin. She went around the house yelling, ‘Tarkie! Tarquin, where are you?’ and then she drove off again. That’s all he had to say about Suze. He then proceeded to give me a full report on all the security breaches he had identified that day (two, both consisting of the little boy next door throwing his Frisbee into our garden).

  I think Mitchell will be glad to leave. He was so bored today, he mended our barbecue, which he showed me proudly. I didn’t even know it was broken, to be honest. In fact, I must tell Luke.

  ‘By the way, Mitchell mended the barbecue,’ I say, awkwardly breaking the silence.

  ‘I was going to do that,’ says Luke at once, his jaw tight. ‘You didn’t have to ask Mitchell.’

  ‘I didn’t ask Mitchell! I didn’t even know it was broken …’ I trail off, in slight despair. I’ve got to get him in a better mood before Elinor arrives.

  ‘Look, Luke …’ I bite my lip. ‘Are we OK?’

  There’s a pause, then Luke raises his shoulders in a shrug. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean this!’ I say in frustration. ‘Not looking at each other! Being all prickly!’

  ‘Are you surprised?’ says Luke heatedly. ‘I’ve spent the day managing fall-out from Sage and Lois’s stunt. A job which might have been easier if I’d known all along that it was a fake.’

  ‘Shhh!’ I say, glancing at the open door. ‘Jeff might hear!’

  ‘Right at this moment, I couldn’t care less who hears,’ says Luke curtly.

  He looks totally fed up, and I know a lot of it is my fault.

  ‘Luke, I feel really bad for you,’ I say, reaching a hand out to his. ‘And I’m so sorry. I should have told you about Sage and Lois when you asked. But please look at me.’

  Luke takes another slug of beer and finally meets my eyes.

  ‘Becky, life is tricky enough without us having secrets from each other,’ he says. ‘We should be on the same side.’

  ‘I am on your side!’ I say fervently. ‘Of course I am. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve been trying to be independent … trying to get my career going …’

  ‘I get that.’ He sighs. ‘And I don’t mean we can’t be our own people. If you have to spend time out here for your career, then that’s what you have to do and we’ll make it work.’ He gives me a strained smile. ‘I can’t pretend I look forward to life without you – but if it’s really your dream, I’m not going to stand in your way.’ He hesitates, spinning the beer bottle round in his fingers, then plants it firmly on the table. ‘But we have to be honest with each other. We have to, Becky. Honesty is the foundation of everything.’

  ‘I know,’ I gulp. ‘I know it is.’

  Oh God, should I quickly tell him about Elinor coming here tonight? Explain everything? Give him my reasons, tell the whole story, try to make him understand …

  But it’s too late. As I’m drawing breath, the doorbell rings shrilly and I feel a clutch of nerves at my stomach. She’s here. Help. She’s here.

  ‘I’ll go,’ I say breathlessly, and make for the door before Luke can move. ‘Jeff, I’ll go!’ I call as I hear his heavy tread coming from the TV room. ‘I know who it is!’

  I gave Elinor the code for the gate earlier and told Mitchell to put Echo away for the night.

  My heart is hammering as I swing open the heavy front door. And there she is. My mother-in-law. The first thing I see is the nervous look in her eye. The second thing I see is the dress. She’s in a dress. A wrap dress. Elinor Sherman is wearing a wrap dress?

  I blink in astonishment. I’ve never seen Elinor in anything other than a suit, or perhaps a very structured evening gown. Where did she even get this? She must have gone out to buy it specially.

  It’s not the greatest fit. She’s so skinny, it swathes her body a little too loosely. And I wouldn’t have chosen that brown and cream print for her. But the point is, she’s in it. She made the effort. It’s as if she’s taken off her armour.

  Her hair is different, too. I can’t quite work out how, because Elinor’s hair has always been a mystery to me. It’s not so much hair as a helmet. (Sometimes I even wonder if it’s a wig.) But tonight it’s looser in some way. Softer.

  ‘You look great!’ I whisper, and squeeze her bony hand. ‘Well done! OK. Ready?’

  As we walk towards the kitchen I feel sick with apprehension, but I force myself to keep going. I can do this. I need to do this. We can’t go the rest of our lives with Elinor an outcast.

  And we’re in. I retrieve the heavy key from the drawer where I’ve been keeping them safe from Minnie and hastily lock the door. Then I turn to face Luke, breathing hard.

  I don’t know what I was expecting … I don’t know what I was hoping …

  OK, I do know what I was hoping. I was secretly hoping that Luke would look up, and his face would turn from shock to rueful understanding to wise acceptance, and he’d say something simple like, ‘Mother. It’s time for peace. I see that now.’ And we wouldn’t need the intervention at all.

  But that’s not what happens. He stares at Elinor in shock, but his expression doesn’t change. Or if it does, it gets worse. As he turns to me, shock veers to icy fury. For the first time ever, his expression actually scares me.

  ‘You’re joking,’ he says, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it. ‘You’re fucking joking.’

  ‘I’m not joking,’ I say, my voice trembling.

  Luke gazes at me a moment more, then strides to the kitchen door, without even glancing at Elinor.

  ‘I’ve locked it,’ I call after him. ‘This is an intervention!’

  ‘A what?’ He wheels round, his hand on the door handle.

  ‘An intervention. We have a problem and we need to fix it and we’re not leaving this room till we do,’ I say more bravely than I feel.

  For a while no one moves. Luke has fixed his eyes on mine and it’s as though we’re having a private, silent conversation. It’s as though I can hear his words: You didn’t. You didn’t.

  And I’m replying: I did. I so did.

  At last, Luke swings round to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. He pours a glass and hands it to Elinor, saying abruptly, ‘What do you want?’

  My heart sinks. He sounds like a sulky toddler.

  ‘She’s your mother,’ I say. ‘Don’t speak to her like that.’

  ‘She’s not my mother,’ says Luke harshly.

  ‘I’m not his mother,’ echoes Elinor, even more harshly, and I see the surprise flash through Luke’s eyes.

  They’re so similar. I mean, that’s the irony. They look like they’ve come out of the same Russian-doll set, standing rigid, their chins tight and their eyes steely with determination.

>   ‘I forfeited the right to be your mother many years ago,’ Elinor says, more quietly. ‘I know that, Luke. But I would like to be Minnie’s grandmother. And your … friend.’ She glances at me and I give her an encouraging nod.

  I know how hard this must be for Elinor. It so doesn’t come naturally. But honestly, with her hair loosened, holding a glass of wine, using the word ‘friend’, she sounds almost normal. She takes a tentative step towards Luke, and I long for him to see her the way I do. But he’s prickling all over with suspicion. He doesn’t want to see.

  ‘I still don’t get it,’ he says. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘She’s here because this is nuts!’ I say, unable to stay quiet. ‘You’re flesh and blood. You’re connected, OK, whether you like it or not. And one day you’ll both be dead!’

  OK, that just popped out. Not sure where I was going with that.

  ‘We’ll both be dead?’ says Luke disbelievingly. ‘Why the hell is that relevant?’

  ‘Because …’ I flounder for a moment. ‘Because you’ll be in heaven or floating around in the sky, or wherever, OK?’

  Luke raises an eyebrow. ‘Floating in the sky.’

  ‘Yes. And you’ll look back at your life, and you won’t remember any one argument or one hurtful comment, you’ll remember the relationships you had. You’ll see a great big pattern to your life. And your pattern is all wrong, Luke. Don’t let one false stitch spoil your pattern.’

  Luke doesn’t react. Is he even listening?

  ‘Do you realize that by cutting off contact with your mother, you’re spoiling Minnie’s pattern, too?’ I warm to my theme. ‘And what about my pattern? You know, life isn’t just about your own pattern, Luke. All the patterns weave together, and they make, like, a worldwide web of patterns, like, an über-pattern, and—’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Luke expostulates. ‘Enough with the bloody patterns!’

  I stare at him, feeling hurt. I was rather proud of my pattern theory. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Elinor retreating towards the door. She’s not trying to escape, is she?

  ‘Where are you going?’ I grab her. ‘Tell him about the cottage.’

  ‘Cottage?’ Luke manages to make the word ‘cottage’ sound highly suspicious and sinister. I nudge Elinor to speak. Honestly, these two really don’t help themselves.

  ‘Dirk Greggory has died,’ says Elinor. ‘You were fond of his cottage, I think. It will be possible for us to visit one last time before his daughter sells it. But I will have to let the family know.’

  ‘Oh.’ Luke sounds taken aback. ‘I see.’

  ‘I have a photograph of you there,’ says Elinor to my surprise, and opens her bag.

  She produces an ancient-looking crocodile case, and snaps open the stiff clasps. I immediately see an old black-and-white print of some gorgeous-looking man, which Elinor bundles out of view. She leafs past about five more pictures, then removes a photo and hands it to Luke. ‘You remember this?’

  I peer at the photograph with curiosity and see a younger-looking Luke standing on a wide, sandy beach, dressed in a polo shirt and rolled-up cotton trousers, with bare feet. He’s holding a wooden spade and laughing. His hair is longer than it is today, and it’s rumpled in the wind. I feel a tiny stab of jealousy. I wish I’d known him then.

  Luke gives the photo the barest glance. ‘That was a long time ago.’

  ‘You were twenty-three. It feels like only a year or two ago.’ Elinor places a different photo on top, without saying anything. This time Elinor is in the shot too. She’s wearing such a hideous-looking mustard-coloured halterneck and slacks combo, I nearly gasp. But her sunglasses are quite cool, and the setting is amazing. The pair of them are standing on a boat, with nothing but ocean in the background.

  ‘You carry photographs around with you?’ I can’t help saying incredulously. Elinor immediately looks as though I’ve tapped into her secret source of weakness.

  ‘A few,’ she says, her face closing up. ‘On occasion.’

  She’s like a snail, I think in fascination. Every time you touch her, she retreats. But the point is, snails can be tamed.

  Actually, can snails be tamed? OK, she’s not a snail, she’s a … tortoise. No. A meerkat? No. Oh, fuck knows what she is. The point is, this picture seems to have gripped Luke. I can’t tell if he’s gazing at the sea or the boat or Elinor’s revolting outfit, but something has got to him.

  ‘Minnie would love it there.’ He glances up at me. ‘So would you. It’s a magical place. The sand, the sea … You wouldn’t believe it.’

  ‘You could easily charter a boat,’ puts in Elinor.

  ‘Minnie should learn to sail.’ Luke has that gleamy, distant look he gets when he’s making plans. ‘Becky, you need to learn to sail too.’

  Luke’s mentioned the whole sailing thing quite a few times in our marriage, and so far I’ve managed to avoid it.

  ‘Can’t wait!’ I say brightly.

  The oven pings and we all jump. It’s as though we’ve come back to life. For an awful moment I think Luke’s going to snap back into his cold, angry self and tell Elinor to leave. But instead he looks up from the photo and surveys each of us in turn. He walks over to the window, heaves a deep sigh and rubs his face with the flat of his hands.

  I know it’s all going on inside his head. He hates to be rushed; we just have to let him get there. Elinor is following my lead. She’s standing absolutely still, barely even breathing.

  ‘Look … maybe this has gone on long enough,’ Luke says at last. ‘I’d like to … start again.’

  As the words leave his mouth, I practically collapse in relief. Elinor doesn’t move very much at all, but I’ve learned to read her too. The two lines at her jaw have relaxed, which is the equivalent of her going ‘Phew!’

  ‘I would like that,’ she says in a low voice. ‘I meant what I said.’

  ‘I know. And I didn’t mean what I said.’ Luke smiles, a rueful boyish smile that makes my heart constrict. It hasn’t been easy for him, losing one mother and loathing the other. ‘Come here.’ He pecks Elinor on the cheek. ‘You’ll stay for supper?’

  ‘Well …’ Elinor shoots a questioning look at me and I nod.

  ‘May I have the key back now?’ Luke says to me.

  ‘I suppose so,’ I say teasingly, and hand it to him.

  ‘And you must meet Minnie,’ he adds to Elinor. ‘She won’t be asleep yet; I’ll get her up. Minnie!’ he calls, unlocking the kitchen door. ‘There’s someone for you to meet! You haven’t seen her since she was a baby,’ he adds to Elinor as he strides out. ‘You’ll get such a shock.’

  Minnie.

  Shit. Minnie. As far as Luke is concerned, Minnie and Elinor are strangers. Elinor and I meet eyes, and I can tell we’ve had exactly the same thought.

  OK. Don’t panic. It’ll be fine. I just need to think quickly … I need to head this off … think … think …

  I can hear Minnie pattering down the stairs, and Luke following her and saying, ‘Now, Minnie, I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘Surprise!’ replies Minnie. ‘Present?’

  ‘No, not a present, a person, and here she is …’

  The kitchen door opens and Minnie stands in the doorway, a tiny figure in her frilled white nightdress and rabbit slippers.

  ‘Ladeeeeee!’ she cries joyously.

  ‘This is your grandmother!’ says Luke with a flourish. ‘Minnie, this lady is my mother. Would you like to say hello?’

  Minnie isn’t listening. She rushes over, flings herself at Elinor’s legs and then starts trying to open her bag.

  ‘Ladeeeeee!’ she says. ‘Daddy, is Ladeeeee!’ She finds a puzzle in Elinor’s bag and pulls it out in triumph. ‘Puzzle, Ladeee! Do it at the table,’ she enunciates carefully as she climbs on to a chair. ‘At the table.’

  Luke is staring at them both in utter bewilderment.

  ‘She … knows her,’ he says. ‘Minnie, darling, do you know your grandmother?’

&n
bsp; ‘Not “gran-mudder”,’ says Minnie scornfully. ‘Is Ladeeee.’

  ‘She knows you.’ He addresses Elinor directly. ‘How could she know you? She hasn’t seen you since she was a baby.’

  ‘She doesn’t know Elinor!’ I say quickly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! She’s just being friendly.’ But my voice sounds false even to my own ears.

  I can see the truth dawning on Luke’s face.

  ‘She used to talk about seeing a “Lady”,’ he says slowly. ‘We didn’t know what she was talking about.’ He whips round to me, suddenly pale with fury. ‘That was my mother, wasn’t it? Becky, what have you been doing behind my back? And no more lying.’

  He sounds so self-righteous, I feel a surge of outrage. He has no idea. No bloody idea.

  ‘OK, I did take Minnie to see Elinor!’ I cry. ‘Because she’s her grandmother and they should get to know each other! But before you get so high and mighty, do you want to know what else we were doing, Luke?’

  ‘Rebecca,’ says Elinor, in a tone of dreadful warning, but I ignore her.

  ‘We were planning your surprise party! You thought that was Suze and Tarquin? Well, it wasn’t! It was your mother. She organized the whole thing and paid for it, and she wouldn’t take any credit, but she should! Because it was her. It was Elinor.’

  I break off, breathing hard. At last. At last. I’ve been carrying that secret around like a heavy weight, ever since the night of the party.

  ‘Is this true?’ Luke sounds shaken. I’m not sure if he’s asking me or Elinor, but in any case, Elinor doesn’t answer. She looks dry-frozen. All the warmth has vanished and her eyes have dwindled to dark, burning points.

  ‘That is not why I came here, for you to discover that fact, Luke,’ she says, her voice an angry rasp. ‘It is not why I came here. You were not supposed to discover … you were never supposed to know …’ Her face is trembling and as I watch I’m suddenly appalled. Is she—

  No.

  Is she about to cry?

  ‘Elinor,’ I say desperately. ‘Elinor, I’m sorry, but he had to know—’