Shopaholic and Sister
Page 80

They’re gazing at each other adoringly over the plate of Swiss roll slices. I might as well not be in the room.
“Ahem.” I clear my throat and they both come to.
“Yes! Well. We still have a lot to learn,” says Mum, offering me the plate. “That’s why we’re going on this cruise.”
“Right,” I say after a pause. “Yes. The… therapy cruise.” The first time Mum told me about this I thought she had to be joking. “So the idea is you sail round the Mediterranean and everyone has therapy sessions.”
“It’s not just therapy!” says Mum. “There are sightseeing expeditions too.”
“And entertainment,” puts in Dad. “Apparently they have some very good shows. And a black-tie dinner dance.”
“All our chums from the center are going,” adds Mum. “We’ve already organized a little cocktail party for the first night! Plus…” She hesitates. “One of the guest speakers specializes in reunions with long-lost family members. Which should be particularly interesting for us.”
I feel an uncomfortable twinge. I don’t want to think about long-lost family members. Mum and Dad are exchanging looks.
“So… you didn’t really hit it off with Jess,” ventures Dad at last.
Oh God. I can tell he’s disappointed.
“Not really,” I say, looking away. “We’re just… not very similar people.”
“And why should you be?” says Mum, putting a supportive hand on my arm. “You’ve grown up totally apart. Why should you have anything more in common with Jess than with… say…” She thinks for a moment. “Kylie Minogue.”
“Becky’s got far more in common with Jess than with Kylie Minogue!” exclaims Dad at once. “Kylie Minogue’s Australian, for a start.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” says Mum. “We’re all in the Commonwealth, aren’t we? Becky would probably get on very well with Kylie Minogue. Wouldn’t you, darling?”
“Er…”
“They’d have nothing to say to each other,” says Dad, shaking his head. “I’m telling you.”
“Of course they would!” retorts Mum. “They’d have a lovely conversation! I expect they’d become great friends!”
“Now, Cher,” says Dad. “That’s an interesting woman.”
“Becky doesn’t want to be friends with Cher!” Mum says indignantly. “Madonna, maybe…”
“Yes, well, the day I meet Kylie Minogue, Cher, or Madonna, I’ll let you know, OK?” I say, a little more snappily than I meant to.
Mum and Dad turn to survey me. Then Mum glances at Dad.
“Graham, go and give Luke his coffee.” She hands a mug to Dad, and as soon as he’s gone, she gives me a searching look.
“Becky, love!” she says. “Are you all right? You seem a bit tense.”
Mum’s sympathetic face makes my composure crumble. Suddenly all the worries I’ve been trying so hard to bury start rising to the surface.
“Don’t worry about Jess,” she says kindly. “lt doesn’t matter in the least if you two girls don’t get on. Nobody will mind!”
I busy myself with the coffeepot, hoping to stem the tears I can feel right behind my eyes.
“It’s not Jess,” I say. “At least, it’s not just Jess. It’s… Luke.”
“Luke?” says Mum in astonishment.
“Things aren’t going too well at the moment. In fact…” My voice starts to wobble. “In fact… I think our marriage is in trouble.”
Oh God. Now I’ve said it aloud it sounds totally true. Our marriage is in trouble.
“Are you sure, love?” Mum looks perplexed. “You both seem very happy to me!”
“Well, we’re not! We’ve just had this horrible huge row!”
Mum bursts into laughter.
“Don’t laugh!” I say indignantly. “It was awful!”
“Of course it was, love!” she says. “You’re coming up to your first anniversary, aren’t you?”
“Er… yes.”
“Well, then. That’s the time for your First Big Row! You knew that, didn’t you, Becky?”
“What?” I say blankly.
“Your First Big Row!” She tuts at my expression. “Dear me! What do the women’s magazines teach you girls nowadays!”
“Er… how to put on acrylic nails?”
“Well! They should be teaching you about happy marriages! All couples have a First Big Row at around a year. A big argument, then the air is cleared, and everything’s back to normal.”