Mini Shopaholic

by Sophie Kinsella

  ‘No,’ I say hurriedly. ‘She can’t call you Grandmother or Gran-muff or anything like that. She’ll only say it at home and Luke will find out. He doesn’t know I’m here.’ I feel the tension creep into my voice. ‘And he can’t know. OK?’

  Elinor is silent. She’s waiting for me to continue, I realize. I really am calling all the shots here.

  ‘She can call you …’ I search in my mind for something innocuous and impersonal. ‘Lady. Minnie, this is Lady. Can you say “Lady”?’

  ‘Lady.’ Minnie gazes at Elinor uncertainly.

  ‘I’m Lady,’ says Elinor after a pause, and I feel a sudden twinge of pity for her, which is ridiculous, because this is all her own fault for being such an ice-queen bitch. Still, it’s a bit tragic to be sitting in a hotel suite, being introduced to your own grandchild as ‘Lady’.

  ‘I bought an amusement.’ Elinor gets up abruptly and heads into the bedroom. I take the opportunity to brush down Minnie’s skirt and cram an éclair into my mouth. God, that’s delicious.

  ‘Here you are.’ Elinor stiffly proffers a box.

  It’s a jigsaw of an Impressionist painting. Two hundred pieces.

  For God’s sake. There is no way on earth Minnie can do a puzzle like this. She’s more likely to eat it.

  ‘Lovely!’ I say. ‘Maybe we could do it together!’

  ‘I’m fond of jigsaws,’ says Elinor, and my jaw nearly drops open. This is a first. I’ve never heard Elinor say she’s fond of anything before.

  ‘Well … er … let me open it …’

  I open the box and shake the pieces on to the table, fully expecting Minnie to snatch them and post them into the teapot or something.

  ‘The only way to do a jigsaw is to be methodical,’ says Elinor to Minnie. ‘First we turn the pieces over.’

  As she begins doing so, Minnie grabs a handful.

  ‘No,’ says Elinor, and shoots Minnie one of those chilly glances which used to make me want to shrivel. ‘Not like that.’

  For a moment, Minnie is motionless, the pieces still clutched in her tiny hand, as though working out just how serious Elinor is. Their eyes are fixed on each other and they both look deadly determined. In fact …

  Oh my God, they look like each other.

  I think I’m going to hyperventilate or pass out or something. I’ve never seen it before – but Minnie has the same eyes and tilt of her chin and the same imperious stare.

  My worst fear has come true. I’ve given birth to a mini-Elinor. I grab a tiny meringue and munch it. I need the sugar, for the shock.

  ‘Give the pieces to me,’ says Elinor to Minnie – and after a pause, Minnie hands them over.

  How come Minnie’s behaving so well? What is up?

  Elinor has already begun arranging the pieces on the table, her gaze focused. Blimey. She’s serious about liking jigsaw puzzles, isn’t she?

  ‘How is Luke?’ she says, without looking up, and I stiffen.

  ‘He’s … he’s … fine.’ I take a sip of tea, suddenly wishing it was laced with brandy. Just the mention of Luke has made me jumpy. I shouldn’t be here; Minnie shouldn’t be here; if Luke ever found out … ‘We’ll have to go soon,’ I say abruptly. ‘Minnie, five more minutes.’

  I can’t believe I’m acting with such confidence. In the past it was always Elinor sweeping in and out on her own terms, and the rest of us dancing attendance around her.

  ‘Luke and I had a … disagreement.’ Elinor’s head is resolutely bowed over the pieces.

  I’m a bit thrown. Elinor doesn’t usually bring up tricksy family subjects.

  ‘I know,’ I say shortly.

  ‘There are elements of Luke’s character I find …’ She pauses again. ‘Hard to comprehend.’

  ‘Elinor, I really can’t get into this,’ I say uncomfortably. ‘I can’t talk about it. It was between you and Luke. I don’t even know what happened, except that you said something about Annabel—’

  Is it my imagination, or does Elinor twitch slightly? Her hands are still shuffling jigsaw pieces but her eyes are distant. ‘Luke was devoted to … that woman,’ she says.

  That woman again. Yes, and that’s exactly what he calls you, I feel like saying.

  But of course I don’t. I just sip my tea, watching her with more and more curiosity. Who knows what’s going on underneath that lacquered hair. Has she been thinking about her row with Luke all this time? Has she finally realized how she’s wrong-footed herself? Has she finally realized what she’s been missing out on?

  I’ve never known such a mystery as Elinor. I’d so love to climb inside her head, just once, and see what makes her tick.

  ‘I only met her once.’ Elinor raises her head with a questioning expression. ‘She did not seem particularly refined. Or elegant.’

  ‘Is that what you said to Luke?’ I can’t help exclaiming furiously. ‘That Annabel wasn’t refined or elegant? No wonder he walked out on you. She’s died, Elinor! He’s devastated.’

  ‘No,’ says Elinor, and now there’s a definite little spasm under her eye. It must be the only square millimetre which isn’t Botoxed. ‘That is not what I said. I am merely trying to understand his overreaction.’

  ‘Luke never overreacts!’ I retort angrily.

  OK, this isn’t quite true. I have to admit Luke has been known to overreact to things on occasion. But honestly. I feel like hitting Elinor over the head with her silver teapot.

  ‘He loved her,’ she says now – and I can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question.

  ‘Yes! He loved her!’ I glare at Elinor. ‘Of course he did!’

  ‘Why?’

  I stare at her suspiciously, wondering if she’s trying to score some kind of point – but then I realize she’s serious. She’s actually asking me why.

  ‘What do you mean, why?’ I snap in frustration. ‘How can you ask why? She was his mother!’

  There’s a sharp silence. My words seem to be sitting in the still air. I can feel a prickly, awkward feeling creeping over me.

  Because, of course, Annabel wasn’t Luke’s mother. Strictly speaking, Elinor’s his mother. The difference is, Annabel knew how to be a mother.

  Elinor has no idea what being a mother is about. If she did, she wouldn’t have abandoned Luke and his father in the first place, when Luke was still tiny. If she did, she wouldn’t have turned away that day he came to New York aged fourteen. I’ll never forget him telling me about the way he waited outside her apartment building, desperate to meet the mythical, glamorous mother he never saw. The way she came out at last, immaculate and beautiful like a queen. He told me that she saw him across the street, that she must have known exactly who he was … but pretended she didn’t. She just got in a taxi and disappeared. And they never saw each other again till he was an adult.

  So of course he got a bit obsessed with Elinor. And of course she let him down, again and again. Annabel totally understood it and was endlessly patient and supportive – even when Luke grew up and became in thrall to Elinor. She knew he was dazzled by his natural mother; she knew he’d get hurt by her. All she wanted to do was protect him as much as she could, just like any mother would.

  Whereas Elinor … about anything.

  Half of me wants to say, ‘You know what, Elinor? Forget it, you’ll never understand.’ But the other half wants to rise to the challenge. I want to try and make her understand, even if it turns out to be impossible. I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. I feel like I’m about to explain a foreign language to her.

  ‘Annabel loved Luke,’ I say at last, folding my napkin into pleats. ‘Unconditionally. She loved him for all his good points and all his flaws. And she didn’t want anything in return.’

  In all the time I’ve known Luke, Elinor has only been interested in him when he could do something for her or raise money for her stupid charity, or cast her some reflected glory. Even the wedding she put on for us in the Plaza was all about her and her position in society.

&n
bsp; ‘Annabel would have done anything for Luke.’ I’m staring determinedly down at my napkin. ‘And she would never have expected any reward or result. She was proud of his success, of course she was, but she would have loved him whatever he’d done. Whatever he’d achieved. He was just her boy and she loved him. And she never switched that love off. I don’t think she could.’

  I’m feeling a bit tight around the throat. Even though we hardly ever saw her, Annabel’s death hit me, too. Sometimes I can’t quite believe she isn’t here any more.

  ‘And by the way, just so you know, she was elegant and refined,’ I can’t help adding, a little savagely. ‘Because when Luke started spending more time in New York, and getting to know you, she never said anything but positive things about you. She loved Luke so much, she’d rather do that and have him happy than ever let him know she was hurt. That’s a pretty elegant and refined way to behave, if you ask me.’

  To my horror my eyes are damp. I shouldn’t have got into this. I wipe them furiously and take Minnie’s hand.

  ‘We’ve got to go, Min. Thanks for the tea, Elinor.’

  I’m scrabbling for my bag. I have to get out of here. I don’t bother putting Minnie’s coat on but just grab it, and we’re nearly at the door when Elinor’s voice hits the back of my head.

  ‘I would like to see Minnie again.’

  In spite of myself, I turn to look at her. She’s sitting bolt upright in the chair, her face as pale and expressionless as ever. I can’t tell if she even heard anything I just said, let alone whether it went in.

  ‘I would …’ She seems to be speaking with a struggle. ‘I would appreciate your kindness if you were to arrange another meeting between me and Minnie.’

  She would ‘appreciate my kindness’. God, how the tables have turned.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say after a pause. ‘Maybe.’

  Thoughts are jumbling round my head. This wasn’t supposed to be the beginning of some regular arrangement. It was supposed to be a one-off. I already feel like I’ve betrayed Luke. And Annabel. And everyone. What am I even doing here?

  But at the same time I can’t rid myself of that image: Minnie and Elinor staring silently at each other with the same mesmerized gaze.

  If I don’t ever let them see each other, am I just repeating what happened with Luke? Will Minnie get a complex and blame me for not ever letting her see her grandmother?

  Oh God, it’s all too complicated. I can’t cope. I want a normal, straightforward family where grannies are kindly creatures who sit by the fire and do knitting.

  ‘I just don’t know,’ I say again. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘Goodbye, Minnie.’ Elinor stiffly lifts a hand like the Queen.

  ‘Bye-bye, Lady,’ says Minnie brightly.

  The little pocket of Minnie’s dress is stuffed with jigsaw pieces, I suddenly notice. I should take them out and give them back to Elinor, because otherwise she might spend ages trying to do a jigsaw that’s incomplete. And that would be really annoying and frustrating for her, wouldn’t it?

  So as a mature, adult person, I really should give them back.

  ‘Bye, then,’ I say, then head out of the door and pull it shut.

  All the way home I’m swamped with guilt and paranoia. I cannot tell a soul where I was today. No one would understand and Luke would be devastated. Or furious. Or both.

  As I head into the kitchen, I’m braced for an instant quiz on where Minnie and I have been all afternoon, but Mum just looks up from her seat at the table and says, ‘Hello, love.’ There’s something about her high-pitched, edgy tone which makes me give her a second glance. Her cheeks are a suspect pink colour, too.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Everything OK?’ My eyes drop to the navy-blue sock in her hand. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Well!’ Clearly she’s just been waiting for me to ask. ‘I would have thought it was obvious! I’m darning your father’s socks, since we’re too impecunious to afford any new clothes …’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’ Dad strides into the kitchen behind me.

  ‘… but now he says they’re unwearable!’ Mum finishes. ‘Does that look unwearable to you, Becky?’

  ‘Er …’

  I examine the sock she thrusts at me. Not to be rude about Mum’s darning, but it does look a bit lumpy, with great big stitches in bright-blue wool. I wouldn’t fancy putting it on.

  ‘Couldn’t you get some new socks at the pound shop?’ I suggest.

  ‘New socks? And who’s supposed to pay for those, may I ask?’ demands Mum shrilly, as though I’ve suggested Dad gets the finest bespoke monogrammed socks from Jermyn Street.

  ‘Well … er … they only cost a pound …’

  ‘I’ve ordered some from John Lewis,’ says Dad with an air of finality.

  ‘John Lewis!’ Mum’s voice shrills even higher. ‘We can afford John Lewis now, can we? I see, it’s one rule for you, Graham, and another for me. Well, as long as I know where I stand …’

  ‘Jane, don’t be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that a pair of socks isn’t going to ruin us …’

  Surreptitiously I take Minnie by the hand and lead her out of the kitchen.

  Mum and Dad are so scratchy at the moment, Mum in particular. Luckily, I gave Minnie supper at Pizza Express on the way home, so she just needs to have her bath and some milk. Then, when she’s in bed I can log on to my secret email account and see if there are any replies yet …

  ‘Becky.’ Luke’s voice makes me jump like a scalded cat. There he is, coming down the stairs. What’s he doing home this early? Does he know about Elinor? What does he suspect?

  Stop it. Stay calm, Becky. He doesn’t suspect anything. He had a meeting with a client in Brighton, that’s all.

  ‘Oh, hi there!’ I say brightly. ‘Minnie and I were just … out.’

  ‘That would make sense.’ Luke gives me a quizzical glance. ‘How’s my girl?’ He reaches the bottom of the stairs and swings Minnie up into his arms.

  ‘Lady,’ says Minnie seriously.

  ‘Lady?’ Luke tickles her chin. ‘Which lady, poppet?’

  ‘Lady.’ Her eyes are huge and reverent. ‘Puzz-le.’

  Aargh! Since when did Minnie know how to say ‘puzzle’? Why does she have to expand her vocabulary now? What other words will she suddenly come out with? ‘Elinor’? ‘Ritz Hotel’? ‘Guess what, Daddy, I went to see my other grandmother today’?

  ‘Puzz-le.’ She suddenly plucks the puzzle pieces out of her pocket and presents them to Luke. ‘Lady.’

  ‘How funny!’ I laugh quickly. ‘We were looking at puzzles in a toy shop and there was one of the Mona Lisa. That must be why she’s saying “puzzle” and “lady”.’

  ‘Tea,’ adds Minnie.

  ‘And we had tea,’ I chime in desperately. ‘Just us. Just the two of us.’

  Don’t say ‘Grand-muff’, for God’s sake don’t say ‘Grand-muff’ …

  ‘Sounds good.’ Luke drops Minnie to the floor. ‘By the way, I just had a phone message from Michael’s assistant.’

  ‘Michael!’ I say absently. ‘That’s great. How is he?’

  Michael is one of our oldest friends and lives in the States. He was Luke’s business partner for ages, but now he’s more or less retired.

  ‘I don’t know. It was a bit strange.’ Luke takes out a Post-it and gives it a puzzled glance. ‘It was a bad line, but I think the assistant said something about 7 April? About not being able to make a party?’

  Party?

  Party?

  The world seems to freeze. I’m pinioned, staring at Luke in horror. My heart seems to be thumping loudly inside my head.

  What was Michael’s assistant doing phoning? She was supposed to email. It’s supposed to be a secret. Did I not write that big enough? Did I not make it clear?

  ‘Has he invited us to something?’ Luke looks perplexed. ‘I don’t remember getting an invitation.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I manage, after what seems like six hours. ‘Sounds li
ke the message got garbled.’

  ‘We couldn’t make it out to the States anyway.’ Luke is frowning at the message. ‘It’s just not feasible. And I think I’ve got something on that day. A training conference or something.’

  ‘Right.’ I’m nodding frantically. ‘Right. Well, why don’t I get back to Michael about it?’ I take the Post-it from Luke, trying very hard not to snatch it. ‘Just leave it to me. I want to ask after his daughter, anyway. She sometimes comes to The Look, when she’s in town.’

  ‘Of course she does. Where else would she go?’ Luke gives me a disarming smile, but I can’t return it.

  ‘So … would you mind giving Minnie her bath?’ I try to speak calmly. ‘I’ve just got a quick call I need to make.’

  ‘Sure.’ Luke heads for the stairs. ‘C’mon, Min, bath time.’

  I wait until they’ve reached the landing, then leg it outside to the drive, speed-dialling Bonnie’s number.

  ‘Disaster! Catastrophe!’ I barely even wait for her to say hello. ‘One of the guests’ assistants rang up about the party! She left a message with Luke! I mean, I managed to save the situation … but what if I hadn’t?’

  ‘Oh, goodness.’ Bonnie sounds shocked. ‘How unfortunate.’

  ‘I wrote on the invitation, “Don’t call”!’ I’m gabbling almost hysterically. ‘How much clearer could I have been? What if other people start calling? What do I do?’

  ‘Becky, don’t panic,’ says Bonnie. ‘I’ll have a think about this. How about we have breakfast tomorrow to formulate a plan? I’ll tell Luke I’m coming in late.’

  ‘OK. Thanks so much, Bonnie. See you tomorrow.’

  Slowly my pulse-rate starts subsiding. Honestly, organizing a surprise party is like doing sudden hundred-metre sprints with no warning the whole time. They should offer it instead of personal training.

  Ooh, maybe I’ll end up super-fit with no effort. That would be cool.

  I put my phone away and am heading back into the house when I become aware of the grinding sound of an engine. A big white van is pulling into the drive, which is weird.

  ‘Hi.’ I approach hesitantly. ‘Can I help you?’

  A guy in a T-shirt leans out of the cab of the van. He’s in his late forties, with dark stubble and a massive tattooed forearm.