‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think …’ I begin.
‘Oh, you think?’ she says furiously. ‘Well, you wait till you see it! And I don’t know why you’re defending him, Bex. He’s screwed you over, too.’
I think Suze must be going a bit deranged. How on earth could Danny have screwed me over in an interview about his new collection?
‘OK, Suze,’ I say patiently. ‘How has Danny screwed me over?’
‘Luke’s party. He’s blabbed.’
I have never moved as fast as I do now. Within thirty seconds I’m upstairs and online, clicking feverishly till I get to the right page. And there it is, right under the moody black and white photo of Tarkie chopping logs in a tight white T-shirt with his kilt slung almost obscenely low. (He does have good abs, Tarkie. I never realized.)
‘Kovitz is in talks to launch a furniture line and lifestyle website,’ reads the interview. ‘Does this fashion whirlwind ever have any downtime? “Sure,” laughs Kovitz. “I like to party. I’m heading to Goa for a couple weeks then I’m coming back for a surprise party. Actually, it’s for Luke Brandon, the husband of Rebecca Brandon, who brought this whole collaboration together.” Thus the fashion world comes full circle.’
I read it three times, breathing faster and faster.
I am going to kill Danny. Kill him.
From: Becky Brandon
Subject: URGENT MESSAGE!!!!!
Date: 13 March 2006
Dear Reader of Style Central
Whilst reading the latest issue of Style Central you may have noticed a small reference by Danny Kovitz to a surprise party for my husband Luke Brandon.
May I please ask you very sincerely to FORGET THIS and PUT IT FROM YOUR MIND. If by any chance you know my husband, please do not mention it. It is supposed to be a SURPRISE.
If you could rip out the page and destroy it, that would be even better.
With sincere thanks
Rebecca Brandon (née Bloomwood)
People Who Know About Party
Me
Suze
Tarquin
Danny
Jess
Tom
Mum
Dad
Janice
Martin
Bonnie
Those three women who were listening at the next-door table
Gary
Janice’s plumber
Rupert and Harry at The Service
Erica
Marketing directors of Bollinger, Dom, Perignon, Bacardi, Veuve Clicquot,
Party Time Beverages, Jacob’s Creek, Kentish English Sparkling Wine Cliff
Manicurist (I was so stressed out, I had to talk to someone, and she promised not to blab)
165 invited guests (not including Brandon C lot)
500 readers of Style Central
Total = 693
Oh God.
SIXTEEN
Why did he have to mention it? Why?
And Suze is right, one of those pictures of Tarkie is totally inappropriate.
I left Danny about twenty messages, all getting more and more irate, until at last he called, when I was giving Minnie a bath, and left a message trying to defend himself. He has such a nerve.
‘Becky, OK, look. That guy was totally out of line. I told him off the record! We were just chatting after the interview! Anyway, what does it matter? Nobody reads Style Central. No one Luke knows, anyway.’
To be fair, that’s true. And that’s the one thing that gives me comfort: Style Central only has about five hundred readers. I mean, they’re all very cool and important and influential in fashion and design, but the point is, they don’t know Luke.
First thing the following morning, I got in touch with the editor and begged him to let me contact all the subscribers, and eventually he agreed to pass on an email asking them not to let on. Two weeks have passed and nothing seems to have seeped out yet. I think I’ve contained the outbreak. But I still can’t relax.
In fact I’m in a bit of a state all round. I’m not sleeping well, and my hair looks terrible. In one sense the party is more under control than it was, because I’ve booked all the things I hadn’t thought about, like heaters and loos and flooring. But everything costs so much money. All my credit cards are starting to bounce and it’s getting a bit scary. I had a really nasty conversation with the Portaloo lady yesterday (I must be more careful about answering the phone), who wanted to know why my deposit was being held up and wasn’t at all sympathetic about my recent emergency root canal.
I just hadn’t realized … I mean, I hadn’t quite planned …
Anyway. Today is the big day. I’m going to march in, wearing my smartest prospective-board-member suit and killer heels. Trevor’s back from his holiday and I’ve got an appointment at eleven to see him. And I’m going to ask for the Employee of the Year money, plus a raise. Payable immediately.