Shopaholic & Sister (27 page)

“Well, hello,” he says in his Cockney rasp. “Mrs. Brandon. We meet again.”

“Hell-Hello!” I say. “Gosh! What a . . . lovely surprise!”

“Still enjoying the bag?” He smiles briefly.

“Er . . . yes! It’s fab!”

I have to get him out of here. I have to get him out of here.

“I’ve come to talk about my hotel with your husband,” he says pleasantly. “Will that be possible?”

“Right!” I swallow. “Of course. Great! The only thing is, Luke’s a bit tied up, unfortunately. But would you like a drink? We could go to a bar . . . have a really nice chat. . . . You could tell me all about it. . . .”

Yes. Genius. I’ll hustle him out . . . buy him a few drinks. . . . Luke will never know. . . .

“I don’t mind waiting,” he says, easing his huge frame down into a leather chair. “If you’ll let him know I’m here.” There’s a glint in his eyes. “I gather he’s recovered from his illness?”

“Yes! He’s . . . he’s a lot better! Thanks for the flowers!”

I glance at Janet, who’s been following this exchange in confusion.

“Shall I ring up and tell Luke?” she says, reaching for the phone.

“No! I mean . . . don’t worry! I’ll pop up myself,” I say, my voice shrill.

I start walking toward the lifts. OK. I can still deal with this. I get Luke out of the building the back way by telling him somebody’s spilled water on the foyer floor and it’s really slippery. Yes. And we get in the car . . . then I pretend I’ve forgotten something, and I go
back
to Nathan Temple, and I say—

“Becky?”

I leap about ten feet and look up. Luke is coming down the stairs, two steps at a time. His face is glowing and he’s putting on his coat.

“So, is the car here yet?” He peers at my frozen expression in surprise. “Sweetheart . . . are you all right?”

Or I could tell Luke everything.

When this is over, I promise myself, I will never tell him a lie again. I will be honest and straight and truthful. Plus I will learn to make waffles.

“Er . . . Luke?” I manage at last.

“Yes?”

“There’s . . . there’s something I have to tell you.” I swallow hard. “I should have told you ages ago, but . . . I didn’t . . . and I was dealing with it, but—”

Suddenly I realize that Luke isn’t listening to a word. His eyes are darkening as they focus beyond me, on Nathan Temple.

“Is that—” He shakes his head in disbelief. “What’s
he
doing here? I thought Gary was getting rid of him.”

“Luke—”

“Hold on, Becky. This is important.” He pulls out his phone and taps in a number. “Gary,” he says in low tones. “What’s Nathan Temple doing in our foyer? You were supposed to be dealing with it.”

“Luke—” I try again.

“Sweetheart, wait a minute.” He turns back to the phone. “Well, he’s here. Larger than life.”

“Luke, please, listen—” I tug his arm urgently.

“Becky, whatever it is, can’t it wait till later?” Luke says with a touch of impatience. “I have a problem here that I have to sort out—”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” I say in desperation. “It’s about your problem! It’s about Nathan Temple!”

“How can it be to do with Nathan Temple? Becky, you don’t even
know
Nathan Temple!”

“Er . . . well . . . actually . . . yes, I do.” I bite my lip. “Kind of.”

Slowly Luke closes up his phone. “You ‘kind of’ know Nathan Temple?”

“Here’s Mr. Brandon!” A voice rings out and we both look up to see that Janet at the reception desk has spotted us. “Luke, you’ve got a visitor!”

“Just coming, Janet,” Luke calls back with a professional smile. He turns to me, still smiling. “Becky, what the fuck has been going on?”

“It’s . . . It’s a bit of a long story,” I say, my face hot.

“Were you planning to share this story with me at any stage?” Luke’s smile is fixed in place, but there’s a definite edge to his voice.

“Yes! Of course! I was just . . . waiting for the right moment.”

“Do you think
this
might possibly be a good moment? Bearing in mind he’s a few fucking yards away?”

“Er . . . yes! Absolutely.” I cough nervously. “Well. It all began . . . er . . . in a shop, as it happens—”

“Too late,” interrupts Luke in an undertone. “He’s coming.”

I follow Luke’s gaze to see that Nathan Temple has got out of his chair and is advancing toward us.

“So, here he is.” His hoarse voice greets us. “The elusive Luke Brandon. You’ve been keeping your husband from me, young lady, haven’t you?” He wags a mock-accusing finger at me.

“Of course not!” I laugh shrilly. “Er . . . Luke, do you know Nathan Temple? We met in Milan, um . . . remember, darling?” I give a bright, fake smile as if I’m a dinner party hostess and this is all perfectly normal.

“Good evening, Mr. Temple,” says Luke calmly. “How nice to meet you properly.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Nathan Temple claps Luke on the back. “So, you’re feeling better, I hope.”

Luke’s eyes flicker toward me, then immediately back to Nathan Temple.

“I’m feeling quite well,” he replies. “May I ask what this . . . unexpected visit is regarding?”

“Well,” says Nathan Temple, reaching in his coat pocket for a monogrammed silver cigar case. “Seems you won’t take calls from my office.”

“I’ve been very busy this week,” Luke replies without flinching. “I do apologize if my secretaries have failed to pass on your messages. Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?”

“My hotel project,” says Nathan, offering Luke a cigar. “
Our
hotel project, I should say.”

Luke starts to reply, but Nathan Temple lifts a hand to stop him. He carefully lights his cigar and puffs on it a few times. “Forgive me for turning up here out of the blue,” he says at last. “But when I want something . . . I don’t hang around. I go and get it. Much like your good wife here.” His eyes twinkle. “I’m sure she told you the story.”

“I think she was probably saving up the best part,” Luke says with a tight smile.

“I like your wife,” Nathan Temple says affably. He blows out a cloud of smoke and runs appraising eyes over me. “You want to come to work for me anytime, sweetheart, you just give me a ring.”

“Gosh!” I say, a bit thrown. “Er . . . thanks!”

I glance apprehensively at Luke. A vein is throbbing in his forehead.

“Becky,” he says in polite, measured tones. “Might we have a little word? Do excuse us for a moment,” he adds.

“No problem.” Nathan Temple nods at his cigar. “I’ll finish this up. Then we can talk.”

Luke marches me into a little meeting room and closes the door. Then he turns to me, his face all tight and businesslike.

Suddenly I’m scared.

“OK, Becky, start from the beginning. No—” He interrupts himself. “Cut to the middle. How do you know Nathan Temple?”

“I met him when we were in Milan. I was in this shop and he . . . he did me this favor.”

“He did you a
favor
?” Luke looks taken aback. “What kind of favor? Were you taken ill? Did you get lost?”

My mind is scurrying around, trying to think of the best way to put it. I’m not sure there is one.

“There was this . . . handbag,” I say at last.

“A handbag?” Luke looks taken aback. “He bought you a handbag?”

“No! I bought it. But he got me to the top of the list. He was really sweet! And I was really grateful. . . .” I’m twisting my hands into knots. “So then when we were back in England he phoned up and said he wanted you to be involved with his hotel. . . .”

“And what did you say?” says Luke, his voice dangerously quiet.

“The thing is”—I swallow—“I thought you’d love to do a hotel launch.”

The door suddenly bursts open and Gary comes into the room.

“What’s going on?” he says, wide-eyed. “What’s Nathan Temple doing here?”

“Ask Becky.” Luke gestures toward me. “It seems she’s been having quite the correspondence with him.”

“I didn’t know who he was!” I say defensively. “I had no idea! He was just this lovely Cockney man who got me my bag . . .”

“Bag?” says Gary, his eyes swiveling from me to Luke. “What bag?”

“Becky appears to have offered my services to Nathan Temple in return for a handbag,” says Luke curtly.

“A
handbag
?” Gary looks stunned.

“It wasn’t just any old handbag!” I exclaim, rattled. “It was a limited edition Angel bag! There’s only a few of them in the whole world! It was on the cover of
Vogue
! All the movie stars want one and everything!”

Both men look at me as though I’m speaking Martian.

“And anyway,” I say, my face burning, “I thought doing a hotel launch would be fab! It’s five-star and everything! You’d get to meet celebrities!”

“
Celebrities
?” echoes Luke, suddenly losing it. “Becky, I don’t
need
to meet those kind of celebrities! I don’t need to be launching some tacky criminal’s hotel! I need to be here, with my team, focusing on my new client’s needs.”

“I didn’t realize!” I say desperately. “I thought it was a brilliant networking coup!”

“Calm down, boss,” Gary says to Luke soothingly. “We haven’t promised him anything—”

“She has.” Luke gestures toward me, and Gary now seems at a total loss.

“I didn’t . . . promise exactly.” My voice shakes a little. “I just said . . . you’d be delighted.”

“You realize how much harder this makes it for me?” Luke is holding his head in his hands. “Becky, why didn’t you
tell
me? Why didn’t you tell me about it in Milan?”

The room is very still.

“Because the Angel bag cost two thousand euros,” I say at last in a tiny voice. “I thought you’d be cross.”

“Jesus Christ . . .” Luke sounds at the end of his tether.

“And then I didn’t want to bother you! You were so busy with the Arcodas pitch. . . . I thought I’d deal with it myself. And I
was
dealing with it.”

“ ‘Dealing with it,’ ” echoes Luke incredulously. “How were you dealing with it?”

“I told Nathan Temple you were ill,” I gulp.

Comprehension dawns on Luke’s face.

“The bunch of flowers,” he says in even tones. “Was that from Nathan Temple?” Oh God.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“He sent you flowers?” says Gary in disbelief.

“And a fruit basket,” says Luke shortly.

Gary gives a sudden snort of laughter.

“It’s not funny,” says Luke, his voice like whiplash. “We’ve just won the biggest pitch of our lives. We should be out celebrating. Not having to deal with bloody Nathan Temple sitting in our foyer.” He sinks into a chair.

“We don’t want to make an enemy of him, Luke,” says Gary, pulling a small face. “Not if he’s going to buy the
Daily World
.”

Luke’s face is tense and motionless. I don’t dare say a word.

Then abruptly he stands up. “We can’t sit here all day. I’ll go and see him. If I have to do the job I have to do the job.” He gives me a look. “I just hope the handbag was worth it, Becky. I really hope it was worth it.”

I feel a sudden stab of pain.

“Luke, I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really sorry. I never meant . . . I never realized—”

“Yeah, Becky,” he interrupts in weary tones. “Whatever.”

He leaves the room, followed by Gary. And I just sit there. Suddenly there’s a tear rolling down my cheek. Everything was so perfect. And now it’s all ruined.

THIS HAS BEEN the worst week of our entire marriage.

I’ve barely seen Luke, he’s been so tied up with work. He’s had meetings every day with the Arcodas Group, plus there’s been a huge crisis with one of his banking clients, and one of his main account managers was rushed to the hospital with meningitis. It’s all been total mayhem.

And today, instead of having a chance to relax and regroup, he’s got to fly out to Cyprus to visit Nathan Temple’s hotel and start planning the launch. A launch which he doesn’t want to do, but has to—because if he pulls out with some excuse, Nathan Temple might get offended. According to all the business press, it’s looking likely that Nathan Temple’s going to buy the
Daily World
newspaper. So as Luke said, he can’t afford to antagonize him.

“Can I do anything?” I say nervously as I watch him put shirts into a suitcase.

“No,” he says shortly. “Thanks.”

This is how he’s been all week. All quiet and scary and barely looking me in the eye. And when he does look me in the eye, he looks so fed up that I feel a bit sick.

I’m trying really hard to keep positive and look on the bright side. I mean, it’s probably totally normal for couples to have blips like this. Just like Mum said. This is the Second Big Row of our marriage, and the air will clear again and everything will be fine. . . . Except I’m not sure the Second Big Row should come two days after the First Big Row. And I’m not sure it should last a whole week.

I tried e-mailing Mum on her cruise ship to ask her advice, but I got a message back saying that the Mind Body Spirit cruise was a retreat from the outside world, and no passengers could be contacted until next Friday, when they dock in Athens.

Luke zips up his suit carrier and disappears into the bathroom without even looking at me. He’ll be gone in a few minutes. We can’t leave each other like this. We just can’t.

He comes out again and dumps his shaving kit in his suitcase.

“It’s our first anniversary soon, you know.” I’d been hoping Luke and I could do something romantic, like a candlelight picnic. “We should . . . plan something.”

“I’m not even sure if I’ll be back in time,” says Luke.

He sounds like he doesn’t care, either. Our first anniversary and he’s not even interested. Suddenly my head is hot and I can feel tears pushing at my eyes. The whole week has been awful and now Luke’s leaving and he won’t even smile at me.

“You don’t have to be so unfriendly, Luke,” I say in a rush. “I know I’ve made a mess, but I didn’t mean to. I’ve said I’m sorry about a zillion times.”

“I know,” says Luke in the same old weary tones.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“What do you expect
me
to do, Becky?” he retorts in sudden exasperation. “Say it doesn’t matter? Say I don’t mind that just when I should be putting all my efforts into the Arcodas Group, I find myself flying off to some godforsaken island?” He clicks his case shut. “You want me to say I’m
happy
to be associated with some tacky hotel?”