Mini Shopaholic

EIGHTEEN

So much has happened. There are only three days to go. I can’t quite believe it. And finally, finally, everything is on track.

Elinor has the most amazing contacts in the world. She can just make things happen. She points her bony finger and it’s instantly done. At least, she points her bony finger at an assistant, and he gets it instantly done.

So she’s not exactly a riot. We don’t exactly high-five each other when we get a result. And she doesn’t seem to understand the function of chocolate, let alone want to share the odd KitKat. But the plus points are:

1.She wants Luke’s party to be fabulous.

2.She’s thrown a million smart parties before.

3.She has loads and loads and loads of money.

I mean, money’s just not an issue any more. Even Suze has been quite wide-eyed at the way Elinor doles it out without a flicker. Jess, of course, can’t cope. Jess puts her hands over her ears and says, ‘I don’t want to know.’ And then she takes them off again and lectures Elinor on sustainability and responsible sourcing. To my amazement, Elinor always listens gravely – and a few times she’s even agreed to Jess’s suggestions. (Although not the one about knitting woolly hats out of recycled yarn which we hand out to guests, so we won’t need heaters. Thank God.)

Honestly, the party’s going to be just …

I mean, it’ll be the most …

No. I won’t say anything more. I don’t want to jinx it.

It’s even been quite fun, the five of us having our top-secret meetings. (Me, Suze, Jess, Bonnie and Elinor.) Elinor always leaves first and the rest of us wait breathlessly till she’s out of earshot, then erupt with hysteria at something she said or did. I mean, she’s still totally ice-queen most of the time. But even so, she’s almost starting to feel – in a weird way – like one of the gang.

Luke has no idea. None. He still thinks I’m at work two and a half days a week and I haven’t put him right.

The only unresolved issue is the meeting with Christian Scott-Hughes. Bernard Cross has been at some retreat in Sweden and uncontactable. But he’s back today. Elinor has stated she’s going to get on the phone to him this morning and won’t take no for an answer. And I believe her.

So the biggest challenge left is keeping the party secret from Luke until Friday. But we’ve got this far; we can make it to Friday, surely. Today, Bonnie’s finally revealing to Luke’s entire staff that there isn’t a conference, it’s a surprise party instead. There’s bound to be a big buzz, and we decided I should keep Luke out of the office on some pretext. So we’re going to see a possible school for Minnie this morning. (I told Luke we’d already left it really late, and he had to come too because otherwise they’d think we weren’t committed parents and no, I couldn’t just tell him about it later.)

‘Ready?’ Luke hurries down the stairs, looking immaculate in a navy suit and his really expensive cashmere coat from Milan.

‘Yes, ready.’ I finish doing my lipstick and survey myself in the hall mirror. The school we’re going to see today has a red and navy uniform, so I’m wearing red and navy too, to show how keen we are. (I nearly bought the crested hat off the website, but then I thought that was going a bit far.)

‘Nanny Sue just called,’ Luke adds. ‘She’s coming at six o’clock.’

‘Fine,’ I say after a pause. There’s no point trying to argue Luke out of Nanny Sue. I’ve already tried.

‘Good luck at the school!’ says Janice, who has come over to look after Minnie. ‘Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine, just the two of us!’ I glance over and she gives me the tiniest of winks.

I’ve already exchanged about ten secret texts with Janice since breakfast. The marquee guys are coming over to prepare her garden this morning, but neither of us mentions that, obviously.

As I’m heading out of the door, Janice pulls me back with an urgent whisper.

‘Love, I heard from your mother yesterday.’

‘Oh, really?’

The estate agents are having a nightmare finding us a rental place, so Mum and Dad are still living it up in the The West Place, having mud wraps and champagne cocktails every day, I expect.

‘She told me she’s not invited to the party.’ Janice peers at me anxiously. ‘That can’t be true, Becky, love?’

That is so Mum. Trying to get everyone on her side. And anyway, it’s not true. She’s had an invitation.

‘Why does she want to come, anyway?’ I know I sound sulky but I can’t help it. ‘She said it would be a fiasco.’