Shopaholic & Baby
Page 69
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I take another sip, feeling my heart rate subside. I should have gone to France to have the baby. Or anywhere but Venetia Carter. Maybe I should just forget this whole hospital thing and have the baby in a shop, like I always planned. At least I’d feel relaxed and happy. At least I’d get free clothes.
“I don’t know what to do.” I put the wineglass down and look miserably from Suze to Jess. “I’ve already tried talking to Luke. He said nothing was going on and they were just friends. But they didn’t look like just friends to me.”
“How exactly was he holding her hand?” Suze frowns intently. “Could it just have been friendly? Is Venetia a touchy-feely person?”
“She’s…” I think back. I remember her squeezing my arm, brushing a hand down my arm. “Quite,” I allow at last.
“Well, maybe that’s all it is! Maybe she’s just one of those people that gets too close.”
“Do you have any other evidence?” asks Jess.
“Not yet.” I fiddle with a bread stick wrapper, wondering whether to tell them. “I followed him the other day.”
“You did what?” Suze looks aghast. “What if he’d seen you?”
“He did see me. I pretended I was shopping.”
“Bex…” Suze clutches her hair. “What if nothing’s going on? Just seeing them holding hands isn’t proof. You don’t want to ruin all the trust between you and Luke.”
“So, what should I do?” I look from face to face. “What should I do?”
“Nothing,” says Suze firmly. “Bex, I know Luke loves you. And he hasn’t done anything really incriminating, has he? It would be different if he’d lied to you, or if you’d seen them kissing….”
“I agree.” Jess nods vigorously. “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Becky.”
“But…” I trail off, winding the wrapper tightly around my fingers. I don’t know how to explain it; I just have a bad feeling. It’s not just the texting, or the dinners. It’s not even seeing them just now. It’s something about her. It’s something in her eyes. She’s a predator.
But if I say that to the others, they’ll say I’m imagining it.
“All right,” I say at last. “I won’t do anything.”
“Let’s order,” says Suze firmly, shoving a menu at me.
“There’s a set menu,” says Jess, putting a typed sheet on top of the à la carte. “It’s more economical, if we only have two courses and don’t choose any of these ridiculous items with truffles.”
I immediately want to retort that truffles are my favorite food and who cares how much they cost? But the trouble is, I kind of agree. I’ve never got the whole thousand-pounds-for-a-truffle thing.
Oh God. Please don’t say I’m starting to agree with Jess.
“And you can help me think of how to get my own back on Lulu,” adds Suze, passing the bread basket.
“Ooh,” I say, cheering up. “How come?”
“She’s been asked to do a TV program,” Suze says with disdain. “One of those makeover shows where she goes to the house of some crap mother and tells them how to cook healthily for their children. And she’s asked me to be the first crap mother!”
“No!”
“She’s already put my name forward to the production company!” Suze’s voice rises in indignation. “They phoned me up and said was it true that I only fed my children canned food and that none of them could speak?”
“What a nerve!” I take a roll and spread some butter on it. There’s nothing like having someone else to hate, to make you forget your problems.
We have a great lunch, the three of us, and by the end of it I feel so much better. We all decide Lulu is the absolute pits. (Jess has never met Lulu, but I give her a pretty good description.) And then Jess relays her own problems. She told Tom about Chile and it didn’t go too well.
“First he thought I was joking,” she says, crumbling a roll into little bits. “Then he thought I was testing his love. So he proposed.”
“He proposed?” I say in an excited squeak.
“Obviously, I told him to stop being so ridiculous,” says Jess. “And now…we’re not really talking.” She says it in a matter-of-fact way, but I can see the sadness in her eyes. “Just one of those things.” She takes a deep gulp of wine, which is really unlike Jess. I glance at Suze, who gives me an anxious frown.
“Jess, are you sure about Chile?” I say tentatively.
“I don’t know what to do.” I put the wineglass down and look miserably from Suze to Jess. “I’ve already tried talking to Luke. He said nothing was going on and they were just friends. But they didn’t look like just friends to me.”
“How exactly was he holding her hand?” Suze frowns intently. “Could it just have been friendly? Is Venetia a touchy-feely person?”
“She’s…” I think back. I remember her squeezing my arm, brushing a hand down my arm. “Quite,” I allow at last.
“Well, maybe that’s all it is! Maybe she’s just one of those people that gets too close.”
“Do you have any other evidence?” asks Jess.
“Not yet.” I fiddle with a bread stick wrapper, wondering whether to tell them. “I followed him the other day.”
“You did what?” Suze looks aghast. “What if he’d seen you?”
“He did see me. I pretended I was shopping.”
“Bex…” Suze clutches her hair. “What if nothing’s going on? Just seeing them holding hands isn’t proof. You don’t want to ruin all the trust between you and Luke.”
“So, what should I do?” I look from face to face. “What should I do?”
“Nothing,” says Suze firmly. “Bex, I know Luke loves you. And he hasn’t done anything really incriminating, has he? It would be different if he’d lied to you, or if you’d seen them kissing….”
“I agree.” Jess nods vigorously. “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Becky.”
“But…” I trail off, winding the wrapper tightly around my fingers. I don’t know how to explain it; I just have a bad feeling. It’s not just the texting, or the dinners. It’s not even seeing them just now. It’s something about her. It’s something in her eyes. She’s a predator.
But if I say that to the others, they’ll say I’m imagining it.
“All right,” I say at last. “I won’t do anything.”
“Let’s order,” says Suze firmly, shoving a menu at me.
“There’s a set menu,” says Jess, putting a typed sheet on top of the à la carte. “It’s more economical, if we only have two courses and don’t choose any of these ridiculous items with truffles.”
I immediately want to retort that truffles are my favorite food and who cares how much they cost? But the trouble is, I kind of agree. I’ve never got the whole thousand-pounds-for-a-truffle thing.
Oh God. Please don’t say I’m starting to agree with Jess.
“And you can help me think of how to get my own back on Lulu,” adds Suze, passing the bread basket.
“Ooh,” I say, cheering up. “How come?”
“She’s been asked to do a TV program,” Suze says with disdain. “One of those makeover shows where she goes to the house of some crap mother and tells them how to cook healthily for their children. And she’s asked me to be the first crap mother!”
“No!”
“She’s already put my name forward to the production company!” Suze’s voice rises in indignation. “They phoned me up and said was it true that I only fed my children canned food and that none of them could speak?”
“What a nerve!” I take a roll and spread some butter on it. There’s nothing like having someone else to hate, to make you forget your problems.
We have a great lunch, the three of us, and by the end of it I feel so much better. We all decide Lulu is the absolute pits. (Jess has never met Lulu, but I give her a pretty good description.) And then Jess relays her own problems. She told Tom about Chile and it didn’t go too well.
“First he thought I was joking,” she says, crumbling a roll into little bits. “Then he thought I was testing his love. So he proposed.”
“He proposed?” I say in an excited squeak.
“Obviously, I told him to stop being so ridiculous,” says Jess. “And now…we’re not really talking.” She says it in a matter-of-fact way, but I can see the sadness in her eyes. “Just one of those things.” She takes a deep gulp of wine, which is really unlike Jess. I glance at Suze, who gives me an anxious frown.
“Jess, are you sure about Chile?” I say tentatively.
