Suddenly my mind goes blank. Shit, and it was going so well.

“… if you’re too cowardly to tell me these things yourself, then maybe it’s better for both of us if we simply…”

I’m really struggling here. I should have written it all down before I began.

“… if we just call it a day. Or perhaps that’s what you think you’ve already done,” I finish, breathing hard.

“Becky?” Suddenly Luke’s deep voice is in my ear, and I jump with fright.

“Yes?” I say, trying to sound dignified.

“What is all this gibberish you’re spouting on my machine?” he asks calmly.

“It’s not gibberish!” I reply indignantly. “It’s the truth!”

“ ‘If you’re single, then I’m single’? What’s that supposed to be? Lyrics to a pop song?”

“I was talking about you! And the fact that you’ve told the whole world you’re single.”

“I’ve done what?” says Luke, sounding amused. “When did I do that?”

“It’s in Tatler!” I say furiously. “This month!” I grab for the magazine and flip it open. “Britain’s top movers and shakers. Number thirty-four, Luke Brandon.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” says Luke. “That thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” I exclaim. “That thing! And it says you’re single. How do you think it felt for me to see you’d said you were single?”

“It quotes me, does it?”

“Well… no,” I say after a pause. “It doesn’t exactly quote you. But I mean, they must have phoned you up and asked you—”

“They did phone me up and ask me,” he says. “And I said no comment.”

“Oh.” I’m silenced for a moment, trying to think clearly. OK, so maybe he didn’t say he was single — but I’m not at all sure I like “no comment.” Isn’t that what people say when things are going really badly?

“Why did you say no comment?” I say at last. “Why didn’t you say you were going out with me?”

“My darling,” says Luke, sounding a little weary, “think about it. Do you want our private life splashed all over the media?”

“Of course not.” I twist my hands into a complicated knot. “Of course not. But you…” I stop.

“What?”

“You told the media when you were going out with Sacha,” I say in a small voice.

Sacha is Luke’s ex-girlfriend.

I can’t quite believe I just said that.

Luke sighs.

“Becky, Sacha told the media about us. She would have had People magazine photographing us in the bath if they’d been interested. That’s the kind of girl she was.”

“Oh,” I say, winding the telephone cord round my finger.

“I’m not interested in that kind of thing. My clients can do what they like, but personally, I can’t think of anything worse. Hence the no comment.” He pauses. “But you’re right. I should have thought. I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” I say awkwardly. “I suppose I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“So are we OK?” says Luke, and there’s a warm, teasing note to his voice. “Are we back on course?”

“What about New York?” I say, hating myself. “Is that all a mistake, too?”

There’s a long, horrible silence.

“What have you heard about New York?” says Luke at last — and to my horror, he sounds all businesslike and distant.

Oh God. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth closed?

“Nothing really!” I stammer. “I… I don’t know. I just…”

I tail off feebly, and for what seems like hours, neither of us says anything. My heart is pounding hard, and I’m clutching the receiver so hard, my ear’s starting to hurt.

“Becky, I need to talk to you about a few things,” says Luke finally. “But now is not the time.”

“Right,” I say, feeling a pang of fright. “What… sort of things?”

“Not now. We’ll talk when I get back, OK? Saturday. At the wedding.”

“Right,” I say again, talking brightly to hide the nerves in my voice. “OK! Well, I’ll… I’ll see you then, then…”

But before I can say any more, he’s gone.

MANAGING YOUR MONEY

A Comprehensive Guide to

Personal Finance

By Rebecca Bloomwood

COPYRIGHT © REBECCA BLOOMWOOD