Mini Shopaholic (Shopaholic #6)
Page 24I fold my arms and glare at Mum. ‘Who ordered sushi?’
‘I may have added a few items to the menu,’ says Mum, looking a bit evasive. ‘Just for variety.’
‘But it’s a Russian theme!’
I feel like stamping my foot. What is the point of having a theme if people ignore it and set up their own totally different theme, without even telling you?
‘We can have two themes, love!’ suggests Mum brightly.
‘No we can’t!’
‘It can be Japanese-Russian fusion.’ She nods triumphantly. ‘All the celebrities do fusion these days.’
‘But—’ I halt, mid-stream.
Japanese-Russian fusion. Actually, that’s quite cool. In fact, I wish I’d thought of it.
‘You can put some chopsticks in your hair. You’ll look lovely!’
‘Well, OK,’ I say at last, a bit grudgingly. ‘I suppose we could do that.’ I get out my phone and quickly text Suze and Danny:
Immediately I get a ping back from Suze:
Japanese?? How do I do that??? Sx
Chopsticks in hair? I reply.
Mum has already produced some black lacquer chopsticks and is trying to stick them into my hair. ‘We need a kirby grip,’ she says, tutting. ‘Now, what about Luke?’
‘He won’t wear chopsticks in his hair.’ I shake my head. ‘Whatever the theme is.’
‘No, silly!’ Mum clicks her tongue. ‘I meant, is he nearly here?’
We both instinctively glance at our watches. Luke has sworn he won’t be late for the christening about sixty-five times.
I mean, he won’t. He wouldn’t be.
God knows what this mammoth, mega work crisis is. He won’t say anything about it, or even which client it is. But something must have gone fairly pear-shaped, because he’s barely even been home in the last couple of days, and when he’s called he’s only spoken for about three seconds before ringing off again. I take out my phone again and text him:
R u nearly back?? Where r u????
Doing best. L
Doing best? What’s that supposed to mean? Is he in the car or not? Don’t say he hasn’t even left the office. I feel a sudden pain under my ribs. He can’t be late for his own daughter’s christening. He can’t.
‘Where’s Luke?’ Dad comes past. ‘Any sign of him yet?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Cutting it a little fine, isn’t he?’ Dad raises his eyebrows.
‘He’ll be here!’ I muster a confident smile. ‘There’s still plenty of time.’
But he doesn’t arrive and he doesn’t arrive. The caterers have finished setting up. Everything’s ready. By twenty to twelve I’m standing with Minnie in the hall, staring out at the drive. I was texting him every five minutes but I’ve given up now. I feel a bit dreamlike. Where is he? How can he not be here?
‘Love, we need to go.’ Mum has come up softly behind me. ‘Everyone will be arriving at the church.’
‘But …’ I turn to see her face all creased up anxiously. She’s right. We can’t let everyone down. ‘OK. Let’s go.’
As we leave the house I get out my phone and start to text yet again, my vision a little blurred.
I buckle Minnie into her little seat in Dad’s car and slide in beside her. I can tell that Mum and Dad are almost killing themselves with restraint, not laying into Luke.
‘I’m sure he’s got a good reason,’ says Dad at last, as he pulls out of the drive. There’s silence, as obviously none of us can think of what that reason might be.
‘What was it again, love?’ ventures Mum. ‘Some crisis?’
‘Apparently.’ I’m staring rigidly out of the window. ‘Something huge. But it might not happen. That’s all I know.’ My phone suddenly pings.
Becky, so sorry. Can’t explain. Still here. Will take helicopter asap. Wait for me. L
I stare at my phone in slight disbelief. Helicopter? He’s coming by helicopter?
All of a sudden I feel a bit cheered up. In fact, I almost forgive him for disappearing off and being so mysterious. I’m about to tell Mum and Dad (very casually) about the helicopter, when the phone bleeps again.
May be a little while yet. Shit about to hit fan. What shit? I text back, feeling prickles of frustration. What fan?
But there’s no reply. Aargh, he’s so annoying. He always has to be so mysterious. It’s probably just some boring old investment fund that made slightly fewer zillions of pounds than it was supposed to. Big deal.