“Hi, Becky.” I look up to see Jasmine coming toward us, holding an armful of scarves and hats, her cheeks pink with exertion.
“Hey, Jasmine! Isn’t this amazing? What’s it like upstairs?”
“Mayhem.” She rolls her eyes. “Customers everywhere. Thank God we’ve got the extra staff.”
“Isn’t it cool?” I beam, but Jasmine gives an unenthusiastic scowl.
“I preferred it the way it was. We’re all going to have to stay late tonight, you know. I haven’t had a moment to myself.”
“This way, the shop may not go bust,” I point out, but Jasmine doesn’t look impressed.
“Whatever…” Her face suddenly snaps in shock. For a moment she’s speechless. “Becky…have you had your eyebrows done?”
I wondered when she was going to notice!
“Oh,” I say casually. “Yes, I have. Nice, aren’t they?” I smooth one down with my finger.
“Where did you go?” she demands.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” I tell her in tones of regret. “It’s a bit of a secret. Sorry about that.”
Jasmine’s chin is set in fury. “Tell me where you went!”
“No!”
“Jasmine!” a girl is calling from the escalators. “Have you got those scarves for the customer?”
“You found out where I go, didn’t you?” she spits. “You must have spied on me.”
“How could I have done that?” I say innocently, glancing at my reflection in a nearby mirror. My eyebrows do look pretty spectacular, though I say it myself. It’s this Indian woman in Crouch End who does them. You go to her house and she threads and plucks and it takes forever. But it’s worth it.
“Jasmine!” the girl calls louder.
“I’ve got to go.” Jasmine shoots me a last, evil look.
“Bye then!” I say cheerily. “I’ll bring the baby in to see you.”
Jess has been following the whole conversation, looking utterly bemused. “What’s the big deal about eyebrows?” she says as Jasmine stalks off.
I survey Jess’s eyebrows. They’re brown and tufty and it’s obvious that no pair of tweezers, brush, or eyebrow pencil has ever been near them.
“I’ll show you one day,” I say as my phone starts to ring. I take it out and flip it open. “Hello?”
“Hi,” says Luke’s voice in my ear. “It’s me. I gather the launch is a huge success. It’s just been on the news. Well done, darling!”
“Thanks! It is pretty amazing….” I take a few steps away from Jess and turn in behind a rack of chiffon beaded shrugs. “So…what’s the latest?” I add in a lower voice.
“We’ve had the meeting. I’ve just come out of it.”
“Oh my God.” I clutch the phone tighter. “And how did it go?”
“Couldn’t have been worse.”
“That good, huh?” I try to joke, but my heart sinks. I was so hoping Luke might be able to salvage the situation.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever stood up to Iain before. He doesn’t like it. Jesus, they’re a bunch of unpleasant thugs.” I can hear the anger in Luke’s voice. “They think they own the world.”
“They practically do own the world,” I point out.
“They don’t own me.” Luke sounds resolute. “Or my company.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m talking to the whole staff this afternoon.” He pauses and I picture him at his desk in his shirtsleeves, tugging at his tie to loosen it. “But it looks like we’re going to pull out of the deal. There’s no way we can work with these people.”
So that’s it. The whole Arcodas-deal-conquering-the-world dream is ended. All Luke’s hopes and plans dashed. I feel a growing, overwhelming fury at Iain Wheeler. How dare he treat people so badly and just get away with it? He needs someone to expose him.
“Luke, I have to go,” I say with sudden resolve. “I’ll see you later. We’ll talk about it tonight.”
I switch off, quickly search through my phone numbers, and speed-dial. After four rings there’s a reply.
“Dave Sharpness.”
“Oh, hi, Mr. Sharpness,” I say. “It’s Becky Brandon here.”
“Mrs. Brandon!” His hoarse voice lifts. “What a delight to hear from you again! I hope you’re keeping well?”
“Er…fine, thanks.” Two girls walk past, and I edge away to an empty spot behind a display of wigs.
“Is there another matter we might be able to help you with?” Dave Sharpness is saying. “Our surveillance operatives have undergone full retraining, you’ll be pleased to hear. And I can offer you a twenty percent discount on all investigations—”
“No!” I cut him off. “Thanks. What I need is that dossier you did for me. I shredded it. But now…I need it. Do you have a copy you could get to me?”
Dave Sharpness gives his throaty chuckle.
“Mrs. Brandon, if I could count the number of ladies I’ve known who destroy some vital piece of evidence in a fit of pique. Then, when the divorce court looms, they’re on the phone wondering if we keep copies….”
“I’m not getting divorced!” I say, trying to keep my patience. “I need it…for a different reason. Do you have a copy?”
“Well, now. Ordinarily, Mrs. Brandon, I would have a copy to you within the hour. However…” He pauses.
“What’s wrong?” I say anxiously.
“Unfortunately, there’s been a slight mishap with the client secure storage facility.” Dave Sharpness exhales. “Our office manager, Wendy, and a pot of coffee. I won’t go into details, but some of our archives are…well, to put it bluntly, a bit of a mess. We’ve had to throw a lot of it out.”
“But I need it! I need everything you’ve got on Iain Wheeler. You know, that guy you thought was my husband? Any photos, or evidence of those hushed-up cases…”
“Mrs. Brandon, I’ll do my best. I’ll have a search through, see what I’ve got….”
“And can you courier it round as soon as you find anything?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I really do appreciate it.”
I switch off the phone, my heart beating fast. I’ll get that evidence. And if it’s all ruined, I’ll just commission another investigation. We’ll bring Iain Wheeler down.
Jess appears again through the crush, holding a Danny Kovitz balloon. She looks a bit surprised to see me lurking behind the wigs.
“Hi, Becky,” she says, as I come out into the main throng. “I just saw Suze and she’s trying on about a hundred things. D’you feel like a cup of tea?”
“Actually…I feel a bit tired,” I say, as a customer nearly elbows me in the stomach. “I might head home soon and have a rest. I’ll just say good-bye to everyone….”
“Good idea.” Jess nods vigorously. “Save your energy for tomor—” She stops.
“Tomorrow?” I say, puzzled. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
“I mean…for the baby.” Jess’s eyes slide away evasively. “For the birth. Whenever it is.”
What on earth is she…
And then it hits me. She’s in on the secret too. That’s what she let slip!
My surprise baby shower is tomorrow!
SURPRISE BABY SHOWER—POSSIBLE OUTFITS
1. Pink PARTY glittery T-shirt, maternity jeans, silver shoes
PROS: Will look fab.
CONS: Won’t look like I was surprised.
2. Nightie and dressing gown, no makeup, hair ratty
PROS: Will look surprised.
CONS: Will look crap.
3. Juicy Couture jogging tracksuit
PROS: Will look informal yet sleek. Like Hollywood celebrity relaxing at home.
CONS: Do not fit into Juicy Couture jogging tracksuit.
4. Maternity “Ginger Spice” Union Jack dress and matching wig, bought in summer sale, 90% off
PROS: Have not had a chance to wear it yet.
CONS: No one else may be in fancy dress.
* * *
KENNETH PRENDERGAST
Prendergast de Witt Connell Financial Advisers
Forward House
394 High Holborn
London WC1V 7EX
Mrs. R Brandon
37 Maida Vale Mansions
Maida Vale
London NW6 0YF
3 December 2003
Dear Mrs. Brandon,
Thank you for your letter.
I cannot agree with any of your points and will answer only by saying that investment is not supposed to be “fun.” I assure you that I would not change my mind if I could see your collection of 1930s lipstick cases. And I doubt very much they—or any part of your portfolio—will “make you a million.”
Yours sincerely,
Kenneth Prendergast
Family Investment Specialist
* * *
NINETEEN
IF ONLY I KNEW what time I was being surprised.
It’s eight o’clock the following morning, and I’m dressed and made up and all ready. In the end I went for a pink wrap dress and suede boots. Plus I had my nails done last night, and bought some flowers and tidied the flat up a bit.
Best of all, I rooted through all my old boxes of stuff till I found this gorgeous card I once bought in New York. It has a little crib on it, with tiny presents dotted around—and glittery writing saying: Thanks for Throwing Me a Surprise Baby Shower, Friends! I knew I’d have a need for it one day.
I also found a somber gray one saying, Sorry to Hear of Your Business Troubles, but I ripped that one up. Stupid card.
I haven’t heard anything from Dave Sharpness yet. And I haven’t mentioned it to Luke, even though I’m bursting to. I don’t want to raise his hopes until I know I have the evidence.
Luke’s in the kitchen, drinking a strong black coffee before he leaves for work. I wander in and watch him for a moment. His jawline is tense and he’s stirring sugar into his espresso cup. He does that only when he needs a five-thousand-volt boost of energy.
He notices me and gestures to the bar seat opposite. I heave myself up and rest my elbows on the granite.
“Becky…we need to talk.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” I say at once. “You know you are.”
Luke nods. “You know, I already feel free. They were oppressing me. They were oppressing the whole company.”
“Exactly! You don’t need them, Luke! You don’t need to run around after some arrogant, think-they-own-the-world company….”
Luke lifts a hand. “It’s not as simple as that. There’s something I need to tell you.” He pauses, stirring his coffee round and round, his face intent. “Arcodas haven’t paid us.”
“What?” I stare at him, uncomprehending. “You mean…at all ?”
“Once, right at the beginning. But nothing since. They owe us…well, a lot.”
“But they can’t not pay you! People have to pay their bills! I mean, it’s against the—”
I break off, reddening. I’ve just remembered a few store card bills stuffed into my dressing table drawer, which I might not totally have paid yet.
But that’s different. I’m not a huge multinational company, am I?
“They’re notorious for this. We’ve been chasing them, threatening them….” Luke rubs his brow. “While we were still doing business, we were confident we’d get the money. Now, we may have to sue.”
“Well then, sue!” I say defiantly. “They won’t get away with it!”
“But in the meantime…” Luke lifts his cup, then puts it down again. “Becky, to be honest, things aren’t great. We expanded fast. Too fast, in hindsight. I have leases to pay, salaries to pay…we’re hemorrhaging money. Until we manage to get back on our feet again, cash flow is going to be an issue.”
“Right.” I gulp. Hemorrhaging money. That’s about the worst expression I’ve ever heard. I have a sudden horrible vision of money pouring out of a great hole, day after day.
“We’ll need to borrow more than I thought to buy the house.” Luke winces and takes a gulp of coffee. “It may delay things by a few weeks. I’ll call the agent today. I should be able to square it with everyone.”
He drains his cup and I notice a deep stress groove running between his brows which wasn’t there before. Bastards. They gave that to him.
“You still did the right thing, Luke.” I grab his hand and hold it tight. “And if it means losing a bit of money, well…so what?”
Just wait. Just you wait, Iain bloody Wheeler.
On impulse I get down off my stool, go round to Luke’s side of the counter, and put my arms around him as best as I can. The baby’s so huge it doesn’t really have room to jump around anymore, but it’s still squirming every now and then.
Hey, baby, I telegraph it silently. Don’t come out till I’ve had my baby shower, will you?
I read the other day that a lot of mothers experience a genuine communication with their unborn babies, so I’m trying to send it the odd little message of encouragement.
Tomorrow would be fine. Maybe lunchtime?
If you make it out in less than six hours, I’ll give you a prize!
“I should have listened to you, Becky.” Luke’s wry voice takes me by surprise. “You were the one protesting against Arcodas in the first place. And you never liked Iain.”
“Loathed him.” I nod.
No, I’m not telling you what the prize is. Wait and see.
There’s a ring at the buzzer and he lifts the receiver. “Hi, bring it up.” To me he says, “It’s a package.”
I stiffen. “A courier package?”
“Uh-huh.” He shrugs his coat on. “Are you expecting something?”
“Kind of.” I swallow. “Luke…you might want to see this package. It could be important.”
“It’s not more bed linen, is it?” Luke doesn’t look enthusiastic.
“No! It’s not bed linen! It’s—” I break off as the doorbell rings. “You’ll see.” I hurry into the hall.
“Package for you. Please sign here,” mumbles the courier as I open the door. I scribble on his electronic pad, grab the Jiffy bag, and turn to see Luke coming into the hall.
“Luke, I have something pretty major here.” I clear my throat. “Something which could…change things. And you need to be open-minded about where I got it….”
“Shouldn’t you give that to Jess?” Luke is squinting at the Jiffy bag.
“Jess?” I follow his gaze and for the first time see Miss Jessica Bertram typed on the label.
I feel a plunge of disappointment. It isn’t from Dave Sharpness after all, it’s some stupid thing for Jess.
“How come Jess is getting parcels delivered here?” I say, unable to hide my frustration. “She doesn’t live here!”
“Who knows?” Luke shrugs. “Sweetheart, I need to get going.” He runs his eyes over my swollen stomach. “But I’ll have my mobile on, and my pager…. If there are any signs at all…”
“I’ll call.” I nod, turning the Jiffy bag over in my fingers. “So, what am I supposed to do with this?”
“You can give it to Jess—” Luke stops himself. “Sometime. Whenever you see her next.”
Hang on a minute. The overcasual way he said that…
“Luke, you know, don’t you?” I exclaim.
“Know what?” His mouth twitches suspiciously as he picks up his briefcase.
“You know! About the…you know!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Luke looks as though he wants to laugh. “By the way, Becky, on a completely unrelated matter…could you possibly be in at around eleven this morning? We’re expecting the gas man.”
“No, we’re not!” I point at him, half-accusing, half-giggling. “You’re setting me up!”
“Have a wonderful time.” Luke kisses me, and then he’s out the door and I’m left alone.
I linger in the hall for a bit, just looking at the door. I almost wish I’d gone in with Luke today, to show moral
support. He looks so stressed. And now he’s got to face all his staff. And his finance people.
Hemorrhaging money. My stomach gives a nasty flip. No. Stop it. Don’t think about it.
There’s still two hours to go before eleven, so I put on a Harry Potter DVD to distract myself, and open a box of chocolate snowmen, just because it’s the festive season. It’s got to the bit where Harry sees his dead parents in the mirror, and I’m reaching for a tissue, when I happen to glance out the window—and see Suze. She’s standing in front of our building, in the little car park next to the landscaped garden, and she’s looking straight up at the window.
Immediately I duck down out of view. I hope she didn’t spot me.
After a few moments I cautiously raise my head again and she’s still standing there. Only she’s been joined by Jess! In slight excitement I glance at my watch. Ten forty. Not long now!
The only thing is, they both seem quite perturbed. Suze is gesturing with a frown, and Jess is nodding. They must have a problem. I wonder what it is. And I can’t even help.
As I’m watching, Suze gets out her phone. She dials, and as the phone in the flat rings, I jump guiltily and move away from the window.
OK. Act casual. I take a deep breath, then lift the receiver.
“Oh, hi, Suze!” I say, in my most natural manner. “How are you doing? You’re probably in Hampshire on your horse or somewhere.”
“How did you know it was me?” says Suze suspiciously.
Shit.
“We’ve got…Caller ID,” I fib. “So, how are you?”
“I’m great!” says Suze, sounding totally stilted. “Actually, Bex, I was just reading this article about pregnant women, and it said you should go for a twenty-minute walk every day for health. So I was thinking maybe you should go on one. Like…now. Just round the block.”
She wants to get me out of the way! Right. What I’ll do is play along but not make it look too obvious.
“A twenty-minute walk,” I say in thoughtful tones. “That sounds like a good idea. Maybe I will.”
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