Mini Shopaholic

‘Tarquin!’ Luke practically explodes. ‘Of course 60 per cent is not bloody reasonable! And that is why you need a new business adviser you can trust, and that is why I’m setting up a meeting for you with some consultants I can highly recommend, and I’m coming along to make sure you understand everything …’ He taps at his BlackBerry – then stops as it starts buzzing like an angry bee. ‘Sorry, a few messages coming in …’ He peers at the screen, his face jolts in surprise and he taps something back.

‘I knew Luke would never really say yes.’ Suze makes a rueful face at me. ‘He’d never abandon his business.’

‘I know.’ I nod, although secretly I feel a bit let down. I’d already mentally moved into a Scottish castle and called our second baby Morag.

‘Well, you must please let me buy you a titchy,’ Tarquin is saying to Luke in those posh, stilted tones of his. ‘Or lunch? Or could I offer you a weekend’s shooting? Or … or … a summer in our house in France? Or …’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Luke suddenly says in a low voice. He seems stunned by whatever he’s reading on the BlackBerry.

‘What?’ I say, alert. ‘What is it?’

Luke looks up and for the first time seems to realize that we’re all watching him.

‘Nothing.’ He puts on the smooth smile which means he’s not about to discuss it. ‘Becky, I must go. I’ll be late tonight, I’m afraid.’

‘You can’t go!’ I say in dismay. ‘What about our second Christmas? What about Jess and Tom?’

‘Give them my love.’ He’s already out of the room.

‘What’s up?’ I call after him. ‘What’s the crisis?’ But he doesn’t answer, and a moment later I hear the front door bang.

‘Who’s that at the door?’ Mum’s voice travels down the hall. ‘Is somebody there?’

‘It’s only Luke,’ I call back. ‘He’s got to go into work, there’s been an emergency—’

‘No it’s not!’ I can hear the front door opening and Dad’s voice raised. ‘Jess! Tom! Welcome!’

Jess is here? Oh my God!

I hurry into the hall, followed by Suze, and there she is. As tall and thin and toned as ever, with a deep tan and cropped hair bleached by the sun, in a grey hoody over faded black jeans.

‘Becky.’ She hugs me, dropping her mammoth rucksack. ‘Good to see you. We just saw Luke rushing off. Hi, Suze.’

‘Welcome back! Hi, Tom!’

‘Has anyone texted Janice?’ Mum hurries out of the kitchen. ‘Does Janice know?’

‘I’ll call over the fence,’ says Dad. ‘Much quicker than sending a text.’

‘Quicker than a text?’ retorts Mum. ‘Nonsense! Texts are instant, Graham. It’s called modern technology.’

‘You think you could send a text more quickly than I could call over the fence?’ replies Dad, scoffingly. ‘I’d like to see you try. By the time you get your phone out—’

‘By the time you’ve walked across, I’ll have sent the text!’ Mum’s already whipped her phone out.

‘Janice!’ Dad yells as he hurries across the drive. ‘Janice, Tom is here! You see?’ he calls back triumphantly to Mum. ‘Good, old-fashioned, instant communication. The human voice.’

‘I’d forgotten what your parents are like,’ says Tom in an amused undertone to me, and I grin back. He’s looking good. Edgier than before, unshaven and leaner round the cheeks. It’s as though he’s finally grown into his face. Plus he’s chewing gum, so the breath isn’t an issue. ‘Jane,’ he adds, ‘I’m heading home anyway, so you really don’t need to text my mum—’

Mum ignores him. ‘You think texts are quicker, don’t you, Becky love?’ she says firmly as she taps at her phone. ‘You tell your father to stop living in the Dark Ages.’

But I don’t reply. I’m too transfixed by Jess’s left hand as she undoes her hoody zip. She’s wearing a ring! On her fourth finger! OK, it’s not exactly a Cartier solitaire. It’s made of bone or wood or something, with what looks like a tiny grey pebble set in it.

Still, it’s a ring! On her engagement finger!

I catch Suze’s eye, and she’s obviously noticed it too. This is so cool. Another family wedding! Minnie can be a bridesmaid!

‘What is it?’ Mum looks alertly from Suze to me. ‘What are you – Oh!’ She suddenly clocks the ring too.