I gape at Luke in surprise. His face is glowing. He looks like he’s won the Lottery. What on earth …
Oh my God. Elinor’s done it!
OK, now I’m dying to check my texts.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Luke says politely to Mrs Grayson. ‘I’ve been called back to my office on unavoidable business. But Becky can stay and do the tour.’
‘No!’ I jump to my feet as though I’ve been scalded. ‘I mean … I’d rather see it with you, darling. I’m so sorry, Mrs Grayson …’
‘That’s quite all right,’ she says, smilingly. ‘And may I say again what a pleasure it is to see you, Professor? You know, your advice regarding little Ernest Cleath-Stuart was invaluable.’
Beside me, I can sense Luke prick up his ears. ‘What’s this?’ he says politely.
‘All in a day’s work,’ I say hastily. ‘It was nothing to speak of …’
‘I have to disagree! Professor Bloomwood cleverly spotted the potential of one of my pupils at St Cuthbert’s,’ Harriet Grayson tells Luke. ‘A young boy who was having a few … difficulties, shall we say? But he’s really come out of himself since we gave him the art award. He’s a different child!’
‘Ah.’ Luke nods in sudden understanding. ‘I see.’ His eyes are softer as they meet mine. ‘Well, Professor Bloomwood’s very good at that kind of thing.’
We head along the corridors and out of the school without speaking, slide into the car and look at each other for a moment in the silence.
‘So.’ Luke raises a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Professor.’
‘Luke—’
‘Don’t tell Suze.’ He nods. ‘I got it. And Becky … good for you. Except we can never send Minnie to this school now, you realize?’
‘I know,’ I say gloomily. ‘And I really liked it.’
‘We’ll find another.’ He squeezes my knee, then reaches for his phone and dials. ‘Hi, Gary? I’m coming straight in. I know, incredible news!’
Surreptitiously I turn on my BlackBerry and it bleeps with incoming texts, the first from Elinor.
I have spoken to Bernard. Kind regards, Elinor.
Just like that. Sorted, with no fuss. The more I get to know Elinor, the more I realize she’s an incredible woman. I think Luke must have got some of her genes. The determined, steely, crush-every-obstacle ones. Not that I’ll ever say that to him.
‘So, what’s up?’ I say innocently as Luke starts the car. ‘What’s the big excitement at work?’
‘You remember that trip to Paris?’ Luke looks over his shoulder to reverse. ‘It’s off, I’m afraid. We’re not meeting Christian Scott-Hughes after all – we’re meeting the main man, this afternoon. Sir Bernard just decided to give us half an hour, out of the blue! Sir Bernard Cross himself!’
‘Wow!’ It’s lucky I’m good at acting. ‘How amazing!’
‘It’s unheard of.’ Luke nods, his eyes on the road. ‘Everyone’s in a state of shock.’
‘Well, congratulations! You deserve it!’
Thx Elinor, I’m texting back. You are a total STAR!!!!!!!!
‘What I do think …’ Luke pauses as he negotiates a tricky roundabout, ‘… is that someone has pulled some strings for us. This kind of thing doesn’t just happen out of the blue.’ He glances at me. ‘Someone, somewhere is behind it. Someone influential.’
My heart seems to jump right into my mouth. For a moment my throat is too tight with panic to answer.
‘Really?’ I say at last. ‘Who would do that?’
‘I don’t know. Difficult to say.’ He frowns thoughtfully for a moment, then flashes me a tiny grin. ‘But whoever it is, I love them.’
For the rest of the afternoon I’m on tenterhooks. It’s all going to plan – as long as each bit of the plan works out. As long as the meeting goes well; as long as Luke doesn’t decide to go to Paris anyway; as long as no one at the office blabs …
I’m trying to do a seating plan, but honestly, it’s worse than Sudoku, and I’m too preoccupied to concentrate. Janice keeps coming in and fussing about where exactly the marquee entrance will be, and Minnie jams a pencil in the DVD player halfway through Finding Nemo. So basically it’s five o’clock and I haven’t got beyond table three when there’s the sound of a key in the front door. Hastily I gather up my table charts and shove them in the cupboard behind Dad’s Sounds of the Seventies CD collection. When Luke comes in, I’m sitting on the sofa, reading a book which I’ve just grabbed off the floor.
‘Hi, how was it?’ I look up.
‘Great. Really good.’ Luke is glowing even more triumphantly than he was this morning. ‘Sir Bernard’s a great guy. He was on side, wanting to listen, interested. We raised a lot of thought-provoking side issues …’
‘Fantastic!’ I smile – but I can’t quite relax yet. I have to be sure. ‘So … you definitely won’t need to go to Paris on Friday?’
‘Afraid not. Although we could still go if you wanted?’ Luke adds.
‘No!’ Relief sends my voice shooting sky-high. ‘God, no! Let’s just … stay here. Chill out. Not do anything.’ I’m babbling, but I can’t help it. ‘So, a good day all round.’ I beam at him. ‘We should open some champagne.’
‘Yes. Apart from one thing.’ Luke frowns briefly. ‘I had to give my assistant a verbal warning. Not really the way I wanted to end the afternoon. I may have to let her go.’
What? My smile falls away.
‘You mean Bonnie? But … why? You said you wouldn’t say anything. What did she do?’
‘Oh, it’s very disappointing.’ Luke sighs. ‘For months she seemed the perfect assistant. I couldn’t fault her. But then she started making the inappropriate comments that I mentioned to you before. I’ve recently noticed she seems very distracted. And now I’m sure she’s been making illicit phone calls of some kind.’
Oh God, oh God. This is all because of me and the party.
‘Everyone’s allowed to make the odd phone call,’ I say quickly, but Luke shakes his head.
‘It’s more than that. I have my suspicions. At best she’s moonlighting; at worst, stealing company information.’
‘She wouldn’t do anything like that!’ I say in horror. ‘I’ve met her. She’s obviously completely honest.’
‘Darling, you’re very trusting.’ Luke shoots me a fond smile. ‘But I’m afraid you’re wrong. Something’s going on. I came across Bonnie dealing with a pile of paperwork that quite clearly had nothing to do with Brandon Communications. Not only that, she looked as guilty as sin when I appeared and she hid some papers under the desk. She obviously didn’t expect me back for a while. So I had to have a stern word.’ He shrugs. ‘Not pleasant for either of us, but there you go.’
‘You were stern?’ I say in horror.
I can just picture what happened. Bonnie was going through the guest list with me this afternoon. That must be what she hid under the desk. I thought she rang off rather hastily.
‘What exactly did you say?’ I demand. ‘Did she get upset?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes!’ I feel a surge of frustration. You stupid idiot! I feel like yelling. Did it never occur to you that she might be helping to organize your surprise birthday party?
I mean, obviously I’m glad it didn’t occur to him. But still. I just hope Bonnie’s OK. She’s so mild-mannered and sweet, I can’t bear the idea of Luke upsetting her.
‘Becky …’ Luke seems perplexed. ‘What’s the problem?’
I can’t say anything else. I’ll give myself away.
‘Nothing.’ I shake my head. ‘No problem. I’m sure you were right. It’s just … a shame.’
‘OK,’ Luke says slowly, giving me a slightly odd look. ‘Well, I’ll go and change. Nanny Sue will be here before too long.’
The instant he’s gone, I dash into the downstairs cloakroom, speed-dial Bonnie’s number, and get voicemail.
‘Bonnie!’ I exclaim. ‘Luke just told me he gave you some kind of verbal warning. I’m so sorry. You know
he doesn’t understand. He’ll feel terrible when he finds out. Anyway, the good news is, Paris is definitely off! So everything’s finally falling into place. Have you told all the Brandon C lot yet? Call me as soon as you have a chance.’
As I ring off, I hear the doorbell.
Great. That must be Nazi Sue.
Today Nanny Sue’s wearing her official blue uniform. Sitting on the sofa, with a cup of tea and a laptop open beside her, she looks like she’s a policewoman come to arrest us.
‘So,’ she begins, looking from me to Luke and then smiling down at Minnie, who’s sitting on the floor with a puzzle. ‘It was a pleasure to spend some time with Becky and Minnie.’
I don’t reply. I’m not falling for her so-called friendly overtures. This is how she always starts on her TV show. She’s all nicey-nicey and then she goes in for the kill and by the end everyone’s sobbing on her shoulder and saying ‘Nanny Sue, how can we be better people?’
‘Now.’ She taps at the laptop and a video screen appears with ‘Minnie Brandon’ in black letters above it. ‘As you know, I filmed our morning together, as is my common practice. Just for my own records, you understand.’
‘What?’ I gape at her. ‘Are you serious? Where was the camera?’
‘On my lapel.’ Nanny Sue looks equally taken aback and turns to Luke. ‘I thought you’d informed Becky?’
‘You knew? You didn’t tell me anything!’ I round on Luke. ‘I was being filmed the whole time and you didn’t tell me?’
‘I thought it better not to. I thought if you knew, you might …’ He hesitates. ‘Act unnaturally. Put on a show.’
‘I would never put on a show,’ I retort, outraged.
Nanny Sue is scrolling through the images, pausing every now and again, and I catch a glimpse of myself talking stagily about organic Play-Doh.
‘That bit’s not relevant,’ I say hastily. ‘I’d fast-forward.’
‘So, what did you think, Nanny Sue?’ Luke is leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped anxiously on his knees. ‘Did you spot any major problems?’
‘Unfortunately, I did notice something that concerned me,’ Nanny Sue says seriously. ‘I’ll show you now … can you both see the screen?’
What did she notice? Whatever it was, she’s wrong. I’m feeling a burning indignation. What gives her the right to come into our house and film us and tell us what’s wrong with our daughter? Who said she was an expert, anyway?
‘Wait!’ I exclaim, and Nanny Sue stops the footage in surprise. ‘Plenty of children have spirit, Nanny Sue. But it doesn’t mean they’re spoiled. It doesn’t mean they’ve got problems. Human nature is a varied and beautiful thing. Some people are timid and some are feisty! Our daughter is a wonderful human being and I’m not having her spirit crushed at some … oppressive boot camp! And Luke agrees!’
‘I agree too.’ Nanny Sue’s voice takes me by surprise.
‘What?’ I say feebly.
‘I don’t think Minnie has problems in the slightest. She could do with more structure and discipline in her life, but otherwise she is just a lively, normal toddler.’
‘Normal?’ I stare at Nanny Sue stupidly.
‘Normal?’ exclaims Luke. ‘Is it normal to squirt ketchup at people?’
‘For a two-year-old, yes.’ Nanny Sue looks amused. ‘Entirely normal. She’s just testing the boundaries. Incidentally, when did she last squirt ketchup at anybody?’
‘Well …’ Luke looks at me a little uncertainly. ‘Actually … I don’t remember now. Not for a while.’
‘She is wilful. And at moments, she does seem to have the upper hand. I suggest that I spend a day with you and give you some advice on controlling her wilder ways. But I really don’t want you thinking that you have a problem child. Minnie is a normal child. A lovely child, in fact.’
I’m so taken aback I can’t find a reply.
‘She’s very intelligent,’ adds Nanny Sue, ‘which will be a challenge as she grows older. Intelligent children can often test their parents the most …’
She starts talking about boundaries again but I’m too chuffed to listen properly. Minnie’s intelligent! Nanny Sue said my child was intelligent! A genuine expert off the telly!
‘So, you’re not going to recommend any boot camps?’ I cut into her speech joyfully.
‘Ah, now, I didn’t say that.’ Nanny Sue’s face turns graver. ‘As I said, I did pick up something in my observations. And it worried me. Watch this.’
She presses a button and the film starts – but to my surprise, it’s not Minnie on the screen. It’s me. I’m in the taxi on the way to the discount mall and the camera is zooming in on my hands.
‘Where are you?’ Luke peers at the screen. ‘In a taxi?’
‘We … went out. Do we need really to see this?’ I make to close down the screen, but Nanny Sue smoothly moves it out of my reach.
‘We could pop into this new mall instead of the softplay,’ I can hear myself saying on screen.
‘Becky, I’d like you to look at your hands.’ Nanny Sue points with a pencil. ‘They’re shaking. Look at your fingers twitching. They began when we first saw the sign for the shopping mall, and I don’t believe they stopped until you’d bought something.’
‘I’ve just got twitchy fingers.’ I give a casual little laugh. But Nanny Sue is shaking her head.
‘I don’t want to alarm you, Becky … but has it ever occurred to you that you might have an addiction to shopping?’
A sudden snort comes from Luke, which I ignore.
‘Shopping?’ I echo at last, as though I’m not even certain what the word means. ‘Er … I don’t think so …’
‘Look at the tension in your jaw.’ She gestures at the screen. ‘Look at the way you’re tapping the seat.’
Honestly. Aren’t people allowed to tap seats any more?
‘You have an air of desperation about you,’ persists Nanny Sue. ‘To my eyes, this is a disproportionate reaction.’
‘No it’s not!’ I realize I sound too defensive and immediately backtrack. ‘Look, I hadn’t been shopping for a while, it’s a new discount mall, I’m only human! They were giving away free gifts! They had Jimmy Choo at 50 per cent off! And Burberry! Anyone would be twitchy!’
Nanny Sue looks at me for a moment as though I’ve been speaking gibberish, then turns to Luke.
‘I’m starting a new series of adult programmes. We’re going to be tackling all sorts of disorders, from addiction to anger—’
‘Wait a minute.’ I cut her off in disbelief. ‘You’re saying you want me to go to boot camp? Luke, can you believe this?’
I turn to him, waiting for him to laugh and say, ‘What a ludicrous idea.’ But he has an anxious frown.
‘Becky, I thought you said you weren’t going to shop for a while. I thought we’d made an agreement.’
‘I didn’t shop for myself,’ I say impatiently. ‘I only bought a few essential clothes for Minnie. And they were all on sale!’
‘Your life is your own concern, of course,’ Nanny Sue is saying. ‘However, my worry is that Minnie may pick up your tendencies. She already has an advanced knowledge of brand names, she seems to have an unlimited amount of money to spend—’
This is the final straw.
‘That is not true!’ I exclaim indignantly. ‘She only spends her pocket money. It’s all written down in a special book, which I showed you!’ I reach into my bag and produce Minnie’s pocket-money book. ‘Remember?’ I thrust it at Nanny Sue. ‘I mean, yes, she has the odd little advance, but I’ve explained to her she’ll need to pay it back.’
Nanny Sue leafs through the book for a moment, then gives me an odd look.
‘How much pocket money does she have?’
‘Fifty pence a week,’ says Luke. ‘For now.’
Nanny Sue has produced a calculator from her own bag and is tapping at it.
‘Then according to my sums …’ She looks up calmly. ‘Minnie has spent her “pocket money” unt
il the year 2103.’
‘What?’ I stare at her, discomfited.
‘What?’ Luke grabs the book from her and starts flipping through. ‘What the hell has she bought?’
‘Not that much …’
The year 2103? Can that be right? I’m trying to do frantic sums in my head as Luke examines the entries in Minnie’s book like the Gestapo.
‘Six dolls?’ He jabs at a page. ‘In one day?’
‘They were a matching set,’ I say defensively. ‘And they’ve got French names! It’ll help her language!’
‘What’s this?’ He’s already on another page. ‘Junior Dolce boots?’
‘She wore them the other day! Those little suede ones. You said how nice she looked!’
‘I didn’t know they cost two hundred quid!’ he erupts. ‘I mean, Jesus Christ, Becky, she’s a little kid. Why does she need designer boots?’
He looks really shocked. To be honest I’m a bit shocked myself. Maybe I should have added up what she was spending a bit better.
‘Look, OK, I’ll stop …’
Luke isn’t even listening to me. He’s turned back to Nanny Sue.
‘You’re saying that if we don’t cure Becky, Minnie could turn into a shopaholic herself?’
I’ve never known him look so anxious.
‘Well, addictive behaviour is known to run in families.’ They’re both talking as though I’m not even here.
‘I’m not addicted,’ I say furiously. ‘And neither is Minnie!’ I snatch the pocket-money book from him. Nanny Sue must have added it up wrong. We can’t have spent that much.
Minnie has been hoovering her way efficiently through the shortbread biscuits on the coffee table, but now she notices the pocket-money book.
‘Pocket money?’ Her eyes light up. ‘Shops?’ She starts tugging at my hand. ‘Starbucks-shops?’
‘Not now,’ I say hurriedly.
‘Shops! Shops!’ Minnie is tugging at my hand in frustration, as though if I just understood, I’d do what she wanted. It’s the same look Dad got in France, that time we wanted to buy an electric fan and all the French shop assistants stared blankly as he shouted ‘Fan! Fan! Electrique!’ and whirled his hands around.