Shopaholic and Sister

“Cosmo!” she suddenly barks. I follow her gaze and see a toddler blundering into the string quartet. “Come away, darling!”

“Cosmo! Great name,” I say, trying to be friendly. “Like, after the magazine?”

“The magazine?” She stares at me as though I’m a total imbecile. “Actually, it comes from the ancient Greek word kosmos. Meaning ‘perfect order.’ ”

I feel prickles of embarrassment and resentment. How was I supposed to know that?

Anyway, she’s the stupid one, because how many people have heard of Cosmo magazine? About a million. And how many have heard of some old Greek word? About three. Exactly.

“Do you have children?” she says with polite interest.

“Er… no.”

“Do you keep horses?”

“Er… no.”

There’s silence. Lulu seems to have run out of questions. I guess it’s my turn.

“So… how many children do you have?”

“Four,” she replies. “Cosmo, Ludo, Ivo, and Clarissa. Two, three, five, and eight.”

“Wow. That must keep you busy.”

“Oh, it’s a different world when you have children,” she says smugly. “Everything changes. You can’t imagine.”

“I probably can,” I say with a laugh. “I helped out Suze when Ernie was newborn. So I know what it’s like—”

“No.” She gives me a patronizing smile. “Until you’ve actually been a mother you have no idea. None at all.”

“Right,” I say, feeling squashed.

How can Suze be friendly with this woman? How?

Suddenly there’s a rattling at the library door and Suze appears. She’s holding a baby in one arm and her mobile in the other and is a picture of consternation.

“Hi, Suze!” I say quickly. “I was just bringing you a glass of champagne!” I hold it out to her, but Suze doesn’t seem to notice.

“Lulu, Wilfie’s got a rash!” she says anxiously. “Have yours ever had this?”

“Let’s have a look,” says Lulu, expertly taking the baby out of Suze’s grasp. She examines him for a moment. “I think it’s heat rash.”

“Really?”

“It looks like nettle rash to me,” I say, trying to join in. “Has he been near any nettles recently?”

No one seems interested in what I think.

“You want Sudocrem,” says Lulu. “I’ll get some for you, if you like. I’m popping to the chemist’s later on.”

“Thanks, Lulu. You’re an angel!” Suze takes Wilfie back gratefully, just as her mobile rings.

“Hi!” she says into it. “At last! Where are you?” As she listens, her whole face crumples in dismay. “You’re joking!”

“What’s wrong?” Lulu and I say simultaneously.

“It’s Mr. Happy!” wails Suze, turning to Lulu. “He’s got a flat tire! He’s by Tiddlington Marsh.”

“Who’s Mr. Happy?” I say in bewilderment.

“The entertainer!” says Suze desperately. “There’s a whole roomful of children in there, just waiting for him!” She gestures to a pair of double doors, beyond which I can see lots of children in party dresses and smart little shirts, racing about and throwing cushions at each other.

“I’ll zip along and pick him up,” Lulu says, putting down her glass. “At least we know where he is. I’ll only be ten minutes. Tell him to stay put and look out for the Range Rover.”

“Lulu, you’re a total star,” says Suze, subsiding in relief. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jealousy burns through me. I want to be the one who helps Suze.

“I don’t mind picking him up!” I say. “I’ll go!”

“You don’t know where it is,” Lulu says kindly. “Better if I go.”

“What about the children?” Suze glances nervously toward the room, where the sound of screaming kids is getting louder.

“They’ll just have to wait. If there isn’t an entertainer, there isn’t an entertainer.”

“But—”

“I’ll entertain them!” I say, before I can stop myself.

“You?” They both turn and gape at me.

“Yes, me,” I say confidently.

Ha. I’ll show them who’s the most supportive friend to Suze.

“Bex… are you sure about this?” Suze says, looking anxious.

“No problem!” I say.

“But—”