Shopaholic & Sister (38 page)

“I’m fine,” I say at last, gulping. “Really. I fell down the mountain. But I was with my sister. She took care of me.”

“Your sister.” Suze loosens her grip and slowly turns to Jess, who’s standing, watching awkwardly, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

“This is Jess,” I say. “Jess . . . this is Suze.”

The two look at each other through the driving rain. I can’t tell what each of them is thinking.

“Hi, Becky’s sister,” Suze says at last, and holds out her hand.

“Hi, Becky’s best friend,” Jess replies, and takes it.

There’s a crashing sound, and we all look up to see Tarquin making his way toward us down the slope, in some amazingly cool-looking army gear, including a hat with a headlamp on it.

“Tarquin,” I say. “Hi.”

“Jeremy’s coming down with the fold-up stretcher,” he says cheerfully. “Nasty fright you gave us all, Becky.” Into his mobile phone he says, “Luke? We’ve found her.”

The mountain seems to wobble. Suze quickly sticks out an arm for me to lean on.

Luke?

“How come . . .” My lips are suddenly trembling so much I can hardly form the words. “How come Luke . . .”

“He’s stuck in Cyprus because of bad weather,” says Suze, “but he’s been on the other end of the line the whole time. God, he’s been in a state.”

“Here you are, Becky,” Tarquin says, holding out the phone to me.

I almost can’t take it. I’m keyed up with nerves.

“Is he still . . . angry with me?” I falter.

Suze just looks at me for a moment, the rain pounding down on her hair and running down her face.

“Bex, take it from me. He’s not angry with you.”

I lift the phone up to my ear, wincing slightly as it presses on my bruised face.

“Luke?”

“Oh my God! Becky. Thank Christ.”

He’s all distant and crackly and I can hardly make him out. But as soon as I hear his familiar voice, it’s like the whole of the last few days comes to a head. Something is welling up inside me. My eyes are hot and my throat feels choked.

I want him. I want him, and I want to go home.

“Thank God you’re safe.” Luke sounds more overwrought than I’ve ever heard him. “I was out of my mind. . . .”

“I know,” I say with a gulp. “I’m sorry. . . .” Tears are spilling over onto my cheeks. I can barely speak. “Luke, I’m really sorry for everything—”

“Don’t be sorry.
I’m
sorry. Jesus. I thought . . .” He stops, and I can hear him breathing hard. “Just . . . don’t ever go missing again, OK?”

“I won’t.” I wipe my eyes furiously with my hand. “God, I wish you were here.”

“I’ll be there. I’ll be out as soon as the storm passes. Nathan’s offered me his private jet. He’s been absolutely tremendous. . . .” To my dismay, his voice is descending into a hissing crackle.

“Luke?”

“. . . hotel . . .”

He’s breaking up. Nothing is making any sense.

“I love you,” I call hopelessly as the phone goes dead. I look up to see all the others watching with compassion. Tarquin pats my shoulder kindly with a dripping hand.

“Come on, Becky. We’d better get you into the helicopter.”

THE HOSPITAL IS all a bit of a blur. There’s lots of light and noise and being asked questions and wheeled around on a trolley, and eventually it turns out I’ve broken my ankle in two places and they’ve got to set my leg—plus give me stitches where I cut my forehead and check I haven’t got tetanus or mad cow disease or anything. While they’re doing all that, they give me an injection of some stuff that makes me feel a bit dopey, and when everything’s done I flop back on my pillows, suddenly exhausted. God, it’s nice to be somewhere clean and warm and white.

In the distance I can hear someone reassuring Jess that she didn’t do any damage by moving me, and then telling Suze several times that a full body scan won’t be needed in this case, and no, they’re not being cavalier with my health. And as it happens, he
is
the top man in the county.

“Becky?” I look up in a daze, to see Tarquin advancing toward my bed, holding out a mobile phone. “Luke again.”

“Luke?” I say into the receiver. “Hi! Guess what? I’ve got a broken leg!” I look admiringly at my plaster cast, which is propped up on a support. I have
always
wanted a plaster cast.

“I heard. My poor darling. Are they looking after you OK? Do you have everything you need?”

“Er . . . I think so. You know . . .” With no warning I give a huge yawn. “Actually . . . I’m pretty tired. I might go to sleep.”

“I wish I was there.” Luke’s voice is gentle and loving. “Becky . . . just tell me one thing. Why did you go running off to the North without telling anyone?”

I blink at the phone. He doesn’t know why?

“Because I needed help, of course,” I say matter-of-factly. By now, I’ve almost come to terms with the situation. “Our marriage was in tatters. Jess was the only person I could turn to.”

Luke seems to be struck dumb.

“Our marriage was in what?” he says at last.

“Tatters!” My voice wobbles. “You know it was! It was awful! You didn’t even kiss me goodbye!”

“Darling, I was pissed off. We had a row! That doesn’t mean our marriage is in tatters.”

“Oh. Well, I thought it was. I thought it was all over. I thought you wouldn’t care where I was.”

“Oh, Becky.” Luke’s voice has gone all strange, like he’s trying not to laugh. Or possibly cry. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through?”

“No.” I bite my lip, hot with shame. “Luke, I’m really sorry. I . . . I didn’t think . . . I never realized—”

He cuts me off. “Anyway, you’re safe. That’s all that matters now. You’re safe.”

I’m feeling totally guilty. He’s being so nice about it. But what kind of hell have I put him through? And there he is, stuck on Cyprus . . . In a rush of emotion I clutch the phone more tightly to my ear.

“Luke . . . come home. I know you’re hating it out there. I know you’re miserable. And it’s all my fault. Just leave stupid Nathan Temple and his horrible hotel. Find some excuse. You can blame me.”

There’s a bit of a pause.

“Yesss,” says Luke. “There’s something I need to say about that. I think that quite possibly—” He breaks off again. “You were right. And I was . . . wrong.”

What
? Did I hear that properly?

“I was prejudiced,” Luke says. “Now that I’ve gotten to know Nathan, he’s a very bright guy. Great commercial mind. We’re getting on well.”

“You’re getting on
well
? But . . . what about him having a conviction?”

“Ah,” says Luke, sounding sheepish. “Nathan explained about that. He was defending one of his motel staff from a drunken guest when it happened. He ‘went a little far,’ as he put it. He says it was a mistake. And I believe him.”

My head is throbbing. I can’t quite take all this in.

“In a lot of ways he’s a guy after my own heart,” Luke continues. “He told me the other night why he set up his motel chain. It was after he was refused entry to a smart hotel because he wasn’t wearing a tie. He went straight to a pub and sketched out a business plan for Value Motels. Had twenty up and running in a year. You have to admire that drive.”

“I don’t believe it,” I say, rubbing my forehead in a daze. “You
like
him.”

“I do like him.” Luke pauses. “And . . . he’s been tremendous over this whole affair. Couldn’t have been kinder. He stayed up all night with me, listening for news.”

I wince in guilt as I imagine the two of them in dressing gowns, waiting by the phone.

God, I am never, ever going to disappear again.

I mean, not that I was planning to. But, you know.

“What about the hotel?” I ask. “Is it tacky?”

“The hotel is supremely tacky,” Luke says, sounding cheerful. “But you were right. It’s top-quality tack.”

I can’t help a little giggle, which turns into an enormous yawn. I can really feel the drugs kicking in now.

“So . . . I was right all along,” I say, my voice bleary. “It was a brilliant networking coup.”

“It was a brilliant networking coup,” agrees Luke. “Becky . . . I’m sorry.” He suddenly sounds more serious. “For that and . . . a lot of things.” He hesitates. “I realize you’ve had it hard these last few weeks. I got too obsessed with the Arcodas deal. I haven’t supported you. And I didn’t appreciate what a crash it was for you, coming back to Britain.”

As his words filter into my brain they sound weirdly familiar.

Has he been talking to Jess?

Has Jess been . . .
sticking up
for me?

Suddenly I realize Luke is still talking.

“And another thing,” he’s saying. “I finally read through your pink folder on the plane. And I liked your idea. We should approach David Neville and see if he wants to sell.”

“You really liked my idea?” Through my stupor I feel a glow of delight.

“I really did. Although I have no idea where you’ve picked up all this specialist knowledge on business expansion—”

“At Barneys! I told you!” I sink contentedly into my pillows. “David’ll want to sell—I know he will. He’s really regretting having gone on his own. And they want another baby. . . .” I can hardly get the words out, I’m so tired. “And Judy says she just wants him to have a normal sara . . . salary . . .”

“Sweetheart, we’ll talk about it another time. You should rest.”

“All right.” My eyelids are getting really heavy now and it’s a struggle to keep them open.

“Let’s start over,” Luke says softly. “When I get back. No more tatters. OK?”

“What’s that?” a tart voice interrupts. It’s the head nurse, approaching. “Mobile phones are
not
allowed on the wards. And you need some sleep, young lady!”

“OK,” I quickly say into the phone. “OK.”

The nurse removes the phone from my fingers and my eyes crash shut.

When I open them again, everything is different. The room is dim. The chatter has gone. It must be nighttime.

I’m absolutely parched, and my lips are painfully dry. I remember there was a jug of water on my nightstand, and I’m trying to sit up and get it when I knock something onto the floor with a clatter.

“Bex? Are you OK?” I look over to see Suze in a chair by my bed. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and leaps up. “D’you want something?”

“Some water,” I croak. “If there is any.”

“Here you are.” Suze pours me out a glassful and I drink it thirstily. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m . . . fine.” I put the glass down, feeling a lot better, then look around the dim, curtained cubicle. “Where is everyone? Where’s Jess?”

“She’s OK. The doctors looked her over and then Tarkie took her home. But they wanted to keep you in for observation.”

“Right.” I rub my dry face, wishing I had some moisturizer with me. Then suddenly I notice the time on Suze’s wristwatch.

“It’s two o’clock!” I look up in consternation. “Suze, why are you here? You should be in bed!”

“I didn’t want to go.” She bites her lip. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Shh!” hisses a voice from the other side of my curtain. “Keep the noise down!”

Suze and I look at each other in surprise—and suddenly I can feel the laughter rising. Suze sticks out her tongue at the curtain, and I give a helpless snuffle.

“Have some more water,” says Suze in a lower voice. “It’ll keep your skin hydrated.” She pours another glassful and perches on the side of my bed. For a while neither of us speaks. I take a few more sips of water, which is lukewarm and tastes of plastic.

“This reminds me of when Ernie was born,” says Suze. “Do you remember? You stayed with me all night then.”

“God, yes.” I have a sudden memory of a teeny, tiny Ernie in Suze’s arms, all pink and wrapped in a blanket. “That was some night.” I meet her eyes and she smiles.

“You know, when the twins were born . . . it didn’t feel quite right, you not being there.” Suze is still smiling, but her eyes are sheeny. “I know that sounds really stupid—”

“No. It’s not.” I look down at the white hospital sheet, pleating it hard between my fingers. “I’ve really missed you, Suze.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Her voice is a little husky. “And I . . . I need to say something. I’m sorry for the way I behaved when you got back.”

“No,” I say at once. “Don’t be silly. I overreacted. You had to make other friends while I was gone. Of course you did. I was . . . stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid.” Suze won’t meet my eye. “It was me. I was envious.”

“
Envious
?” I’m utterly dumbfounded.

“There you were, all tanned and glamorous, with your Angel bag.” Her voice trembles a little. “And there I was, stuck in the country with three kids. You came swanning in with all these stories about your amazing round-the-world honeymoon, and I felt really . . . drab.”

“Suze, you could never be drab!” I say in dismay. “Never in a million years!”

“So I was thinking.” She looks at me, her face determined. “When you’re better, let’s go to Milan for the weekend. Just you and me. What do you think?”

“What about the babies?”

“They’ll be fine. Tarkie’ll look after them. It can be my late birthday treat.”

“What about the spa?” I say cautiously. “Wasn’t that your treat?”

For a moment Suze contemplates the floor.

“The spa was OK,” she says at last. “But it wasn’t the same as with you. No one’s like you, Bex.”

“So do you hate Lulu now?” I ask hopefully.

“Bex!” Suze gives a shocked giggle. “No, I don’t
hate
her. But . . .” She breaks off. “As I said, no one’s like you, Bex.”

I can’t quite find a reply, so I reach for my water glass again—and find myself looking at a small packet on the nightstand.

“Jess left you that,” says Suze, looking a bit puzzled. “She said we might want to eat it.”

I can’t help smiling. It’s Kendal Mint Cake.

“It’s kind of . . . a private joke,” I say. “I don’t think she’s expecting me to eat it.”

There’s quiet for a while, apart from the noise of a trolley being wheeled along in the distance, and the thwump of double doors opening and closing.

“So . . . you really have got a sister,” says Suze at last. I can hear the wistfulness in her voice. For a few moments I look through the dimness at her familiar, anxious, lovely face.