Shopaholic & Baby
Page 9
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I want to go to Venetia Carter. I don’t care what Luke thinks.
In sudden defiance I pull out my mobile again and reach for the brochure. I move to a quiet corner of the shop and carefully punch in the number.
“Good afternoon, Venetia Carter’s office,” a woman’s very posh voice answers.
“Oh, hello!” I say, trying to sound as charming as I can. “I’m having a baby in December, and I’ve heard how wonderful Venetia Carter is, and I just wondered if there was any possible chance of me arranging an appointment with her, possibly?”
“I’m sorry,” the woman says in a firm but polite tone. “Dr. Carter is fully booked for the present.”
“But I’m really desperate! And I really think I need a holistic water birth. And I live in Maida Vale, and I’d be willing to pay over the odds.”
“Dr. Carter is absolutely—”
“I’d just like to add that I’m a personal shopper, and I’d be pleased to offer Dr. Carter my complimentary services.” The words come tumbling out. “And my husband has a PR company and he could do some free PR for her! Not that she probably needs it, of course,” I add hastily. “But if you could just ask her? Please?”
There’s silence.
“Your name is?” says the woman at last.
“Rebecca Brandon,” I say eagerly. “And my husband is Luke Brandon of Brandon Communications, and—”
“Hold on, please, Mrs. Brandon. Venetia—” Their conversation is cut off by a brisk rendition of The Four Seasons.
Please let her say yes. Please let her say yes….
I can hardly breathe as I wait. I’m standing next to a display of white knitted rabbits, crossing my fingers as hard as I can, clutching all my pendants for good measure, and sending silent prayers to the goddess Vishnu, who has been very helpful to me in the past. “Mrs. Brandon?”
“Hello!” I drop all my pendants. “I’m here!”
“It’s likely that Dr. Carter will have an unexpected vacancy on her books. We’ll be able to let you know within the next few days.”
“OK,” I gasp. “Thanks very much!”
REGAL AIRLINES
HEAD OFFICE PRESTON HOUSE • 354 KINGSWAY • LONDON WC2
4TH
Mrs Rebecca Brandon 37 Maida Vale Mansions Maida Vale
London NW6 0YF
14 August 2003
Dear Mrs. Brandon,
Thank you for your letter, and the enclosed flight itineraries, doctor’s note, and scan pictures.
I agree that your unborn child has taken many flights with Regal Airlines. Unfortunately it does not qualify for air miles, since it did not buy a ticket for any of these flights.
I am sorry to disappoint and hope you choose Regal Airlines again soon.
Yours sincerely,
Margaret McNair
Customer Service Manager
THREE
I HAVEN’T MENTIONED ANYTHING more about Venetia Carter to Luke.
For a start, it’s not definite yet. And for another start, if marriage has taught me one thing, it’s to not bring up tricky subjects when your husband is stressed out launching offices simultaneously in Amsterdam and Munich. He’s been away all week, and only arrived back last night, exhausted.
Besides which, changing doctors isn’t the only tricky subject I need to broach. There’s also the very slight scratch on the Mercedes (which was not my fault — it was that stupid bollard) and the two pairs of shoes I want him to get from Miu Miu when he goes to Milan.
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m sitting in the office, checking my bank statement on my laptop. I only discovered online banking a couple of months ago — and it has so many advantages. You can do it any time of day! Plus, they don’t send bank statements out by post, so no one (e.g., your husband) can see them lying around the house.
“Becky, I’ve had a letter from my mother.” Luke comes in, holding the post and a mug of coffee. “She sends her regards.”
“Your mother?” I try to hide my horror. “You mean Elinor? What does she want?”
Luke has two mothers. His lovely, warm stepmother, Annabel, who lives in Devon with his dad and who we visited last month. And his ice-queen of a real mother, Elinor, who lives in America and abandoned him when he was little and in my opinion should be excommunicated.
“She’s touring Europe with her art collection.”
“Why?” I ask blankly. I have a vision of Elinor in a coach, a bundle of paintings under her arm. It doesn’t seem very her, somehow.
“The collection is currently on loan to the Uffizi, then a gallery in Paris—” Luke breaks off. “Becky, you didn’t think I meant she was taking her pictures on holiday.”
In sudden defiance I pull out my mobile again and reach for the brochure. I move to a quiet corner of the shop and carefully punch in the number.
“Good afternoon, Venetia Carter’s office,” a woman’s very posh voice answers.
“Oh, hello!” I say, trying to sound as charming as I can. “I’m having a baby in December, and I’ve heard how wonderful Venetia Carter is, and I just wondered if there was any possible chance of me arranging an appointment with her, possibly?”
“I’m sorry,” the woman says in a firm but polite tone. “Dr. Carter is fully booked for the present.”
“But I’m really desperate! And I really think I need a holistic water birth. And I live in Maida Vale, and I’d be willing to pay over the odds.”
“Dr. Carter is absolutely—”
“I’d just like to add that I’m a personal shopper, and I’d be pleased to offer Dr. Carter my complimentary services.” The words come tumbling out. “And my husband has a PR company and he could do some free PR for her! Not that she probably needs it, of course,” I add hastily. “But if you could just ask her? Please?”
There’s silence.
“Your name is?” says the woman at last.
“Rebecca Brandon,” I say eagerly. “And my husband is Luke Brandon of Brandon Communications, and—”
“Hold on, please, Mrs. Brandon. Venetia—” Their conversation is cut off by a brisk rendition of The Four Seasons.
Please let her say yes. Please let her say yes….
I can hardly breathe as I wait. I’m standing next to a display of white knitted rabbits, crossing my fingers as hard as I can, clutching all my pendants for good measure, and sending silent prayers to the goddess Vishnu, who has been very helpful to me in the past. “Mrs. Brandon?”
“Hello!” I drop all my pendants. “I’m here!”
“It’s likely that Dr. Carter will have an unexpected vacancy on her books. We’ll be able to let you know within the next few days.”
“OK,” I gasp. “Thanks very much!”
REGAL AIRLINES
HEAD OFFICE PRESTON HOUSE • 354 KINGSWAY • LONDON WC2
4TH
Mrs Rebecca Brandon 37 Maida Vale Mansions Maida Vale
London NW6 0YF
14 August 2003
Dear Mrs. Brandon,
Thank you for your letter, and the enclosed flight itineraries, doctor’s note, and scan pictures.
I agree that your unborn child has taken many flights with Regal Airlines. Unfortunately it does not qualify for air miles, since it did not buy a ticket for any of these flights.
I am sorry to disappoint and hope you choose Regal Airlines again soon.
Yours sincerely,
Margaret McNair
Customer Service Manager
THREE
I HAVEN’T MENTIONED ANYTHING more about Venetia Carter to Luke.
For a start, it’s not definite yet. And for another start, if marriage has taught me one thing, it’s to not bring up tricky subjects when your husband is stressed out launching offices simultaneously in Amsterdam and Munich. He’s been away all week, and only arrived back last night, exhausted.
Besides which, changing doctors isn’t the only tricky subject I need to broach. There’s also the very slight scratch on the Mercedes (which was not my fault — it was that stupid bollard) and the two pairs of shoes I want him to get from Miu Miu when he goes to Milan.
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m sitting in the office, checking my bank statement on my laptop. I only discovered online banking a couple of months ago — and it has so many advantages. You can do it any time of day! Plus, they don’t send bank statements out by post, so no one (e.g., your husband) can see them lying around the house.
“Becky, I’ve had a letter from my mother.” Luke comes in, holding the post and a mug of coffee. “She sends her regards.”
“Your mother?” I try to hide my horror. “You mean Elinor? What does she want?”
Luke has two mothers. His lovely, warm stepmother, Annabel, who lives in Devon with his dad and who we visited last month. And his ice-queen of a real mother, Elinor, who lives in America and abandoned him when he was little and in my opinion should be excommunicated.
“She’s touring Europe with her art collection.”
“Why?” I ask blankly. I have a vision of Elinor in a coach, a bundle of paintings under her arm. It doesn’t seem very her, somehow.
“The collection is currently on loan to the Uffizi, then a gallery in Paris—” Luke breaks off. “Becky, you didn’t think I meant she was taking her pictures on holiday.”
