“Mrs. Brandon, I’ll do my best. I’ll have a search through, see what I’ve got….”

“And can you courier it round as soon as you find anything?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I really do appreciate it.”

I switch off the phone, my heart beating fast. I’ll get that evidence. And if it’s all ruined, I’ll just commission another investigation. We’ll bring Iain Wheeler down.

Jess appears again through the crush, holding a Danny Kovitz balloon. She looks a bit surprised to see me lurking behind the wigs.

“Hi, Becky,” she says, as I come out into the main throng. “I just saw Suze and she’s trying on about a hundred things. D’you feel like a cup of tea?”

“Actually…I feel a bit tired,” I say, as a customer nearly elbows me in the stomach. “I might head home soon and have a rest. I’ll just say good-bye to everyone….”

“Good idea.” Jess nods vigorously. “Save your energy for tomor—” She stops.

“Tomorrow?” I say, puzzled. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I mean…for the baby.” Jess’s eyes slide away evasively. “For the birth. Whenever it is.”

What on earth is she…

And then it hits me. She’s in on the secret too. That’s what she let slip!

My surprise baby shower is tomorrow!

SURPRISE BABY SHOWER — POSSIBLE OUTFITS

1. Pink PARTY glittery T-shirt, maternity jeans, silver shoes

PROS: Will look fab.

CONS: Won’t look like I was surprised.

2. Nightie and dressing gown, no makeup, hair ratty

PROS: Will look surprised.

CONS: Will look crap.

3. Juicy Couture jogging tracksuit

PROS: Will look informal yet sleek. Like Hollywood celebrity relaxing at home.

CONS: Do not fit into Juicy Couture jogging tracksuit.

4. Maternity “Ginger Spice” Union Jack dress and matching wig, bought in summer sale, 90 % off

PROS: Have not had a chance to wear it yet.

CONS: No one else may be in fancy dress.

KENNETH PRENDERGAST

Prendergast de Witt Connell Financial Advisers

Forward House 394 High Holborn

London WC1V 7EX

Mrs R Brandon 37 Maida Vale Mansions Maida Vale

London NW6 0YF

3 December 2003

Dear Mrs. Brandon,

Thank you for your letter.

I cannot agree with any of your points and will answer only by saying that investment is not supposed to be “fun.” I assure you that I would not change my mind if I could see your collection of 1930s lipstick cases. And I doubt very much they — or any part of your portfolio — will “make you a million.”

Yours sincerely,

Kenneth Prendergast

Family Investment Specialist

NINETEEN

IF ONLY I KNEW what time I was being surprised.

It’s eight o’clock the following morning, and I’m dressed and made up and all ready. In the end I went for a pink wrap dress and suede boots. Plus I had my nails done last night, and bought some flowers and tidied the flat up a bit.

Best of all, I rooted through all my old boxes of stuff till I found this gorgeous card I once bought in New York. It has a little crib on it, with tiny presents dotted around — and glittery writing saying: Thanks for Throwing Me a Surprise Baby Shower, Friends! I knew I’d have a need for it one day.

I also found a somber gray one saying, Sorry to Hear of Your Business Troubles, but I ripped that one up. Stupid card.

I haven’t heard anything from Dave Sharpness yet. And I haven’t mentioned it to Luke, even though I’m bursting to. I don’t want to raise his hopes until I know I have the evidence.

Luke’s in the kitchen, drinking a strong black coffee before he leaves for work. I wander in and watch him for a moment. His jawline is tense and he’s stirring sugar into his espresso cup. He does that only when he needs a five-thousand-volt boost of energy.

He notices me and gestures to the bar seat opposite. I heave myself up and rest my elbows on the granite.

“Becky…we need to talk.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” I say at once. “You know you are.”

Luke nods. “You know, I already feel free. They were oppressing me. They were oppressing the whole company.”

“Exactly! You don’t need them, Luke! You don’t need to run around after some arrogant, think-they-own-the-world company….”

Luke lifts a hand. “It’s not as simple as that. There’s something I need to tell you.” He pauses, stirring his coffee round and round, his face intent. “Arcodas haven’t paid us.”




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