Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 24
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“Sushi, sir,” says the waitress.
“Sushi?” He peers at her with bloodshot eyes. “What?”
“Rice and raw salmon, sir. Japanese.”
“Bloody stupid idea.”
To my relief he stalks off again, and I’m about to take a piece of sushi myself, when I hear a familiar earsplitting noise.
“Please! Pleeeease!”
Oh God. It’s Minnie.
For a long time, my daughter’s favorite word was “mine.” Now, after intensive training, we’ve got her on to the word “please.” Which you’d think would be an improvement.
I swivel around wildly and finally spot Minnie. She’s balanced on a stone bench, tussling with Suze’s son Wilfrid over a red plastic truck.
“Pleeease!” she’s yelling crossly. “Pleeease!” Now, to my horror, she starts hitting Wilfrid with the truck, yelling with each blow: “Please! Please! Please!”
The trouble is, Minnie hasn’t really absorbed the spirit of the word “please.”
“Minnie!” I exclaim in horror, and run toward her across the lawn. “Give the truck to Wilfie.” Luke is coming toward her, too, and we exchange wry looks.
“Please truck! Pleeease!” she cries, clutching it harder. A few people gathered around start to laugh, and Minnie beams at them. She is such a show-off, but she’s so adorable with it, it’s hard to stay cross.
“Hey, Becky,” says a cheerful voice behind me, and I turn to see Ellie, who is Suze’s nanny and absolutely brilliant. (There’s also Nanny, who looked after Tarkie when he was little and has never left. But she just potters around and tells people to wear undershirts.) “I’m taking the other children to watch from the steps there.” She points at a bank on the other side of the lake. “They’ll get a better view. Does Minnie want to come?”
“Oh, thanks,” I say gratefully. “Minnie, if you want to go to the steps with the others, you have to give the truck to Wilfie.”
“Steps?” Minnie pauses at this new word.
“Yes! Steps! Exciting steps.” I grab the truck from her and give it back to Wilfie. “Go with Ellie, sweetheart. Hey, Tarquin!” I call, as I see him hurrying by. “This all looks spectacular.”
“Yes.” Tarquin seems a bit desperate. “Well, I hope so. There’s a water-pressure problem. Whole area’s affected. Terrible timing for us.”
“Oh no!”
“Turn it up,” Tarkie says feverishly into his walkie-talkie. “Whatever it takes! We don’t want a feeble little gush, we want a spectacle!” He looks up at us and grimaces. “Fountains are trickier blighters than I realized.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Luke says reassuringly. “It’s a marvelous idea.”
“Well, I hope so.” Tarkie wipes his face, then checks the countdown clock, which reads 4:58. “Crikey. I must go.”
The crowd is getting bigger and there are now two local TV news crews interviewing people. Luke takes a couple of glasses of wine and hands me one, and we clink glasses. As we near the cordoned-off VIP area, I can see Suze talking animatedly to Tarquin’s business manager, Angus.
“Tarkie must surely have business interests in the States,” she’s saying. “I’m certain he needs to do a trip out there. Don’t you agree?”
“It’s really not necessary, Lady Cleath-Stuart,” Angus says, looking surprised. “All the U.S. investments are taken care of.”
“Do we have any investments in California?” persists Suze. “Like an orange grove or something? Because I think we should visit them. I’ll go, if you like.” She looks over at me and winks, and I beam back. Go, Suze!
The earl and countess are making their way to the front of the crowd now, forging a path with their shooting sticks and staring critically at the lake.
“If he wanted to build something,” the earl is saying, “what’s wrong with a folly? Tuck it away somewhere. But a fountain? Bloody stupid idea.”
I stare at him angrily. How dare they come along and be so critical?
“I disagree,” I say coolly. “I believe this fountain will be a major landmark in the country for centuries to come.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” He fixes his baleful gaze on me, and I lift my chin. I’m not afraid of some old earl.
“Yes,” I say defiantly. “Today will be unforgettable. You’ll see.”
“Sixty! Fifty-nine!” the loudspeaker guy starts chanting, and I feel a rush of excitement. At last! Tarkie’s fountain! I clutch Suze’s hand and she beams back excitedly.
“Sushi?” He peers at her with bloodshot eyes. “What?”
“Rice and raw salmon, sir. Japanese.”
“Bloody stupid idea.”
To my relief he stalks off again, and I’m about to take a piece of sushi myself, when I hear a familiar earsplitting noise.
“Please! Pleeeease!”
Oh God. It’s Minnie.
For a long time, my daughter’s favorite word was “mine.” Now, after intensive training, we’ve got her on to the word “please.” Which you’d think would be an improvement.
I swivel around wildly and finally spot Minnie. She’s balanced on a stone bench, tussling with Suze’s son Wilfrid over a red plastic truck.
“Pleeease!” she’s yelling crossly. “Pleeease!” Now, to my horror, she starts hitting Wilfrid with the truck, yelling with each blow: “Please! Please! Please!”
The trouble is, Minnie hasn’t really absorbed the spirit of the word “please.”
“Minnie!” I exclaim in horror, and run toward her across the lawn. “Give the truck to Wilfie.” Luke is coming toward her, too, and we exchange wry looks.
“Please truck! Pleeease!” she cries, clutching it harder. A few people gathered around start to laugh, and Minnie beams at them. She is such a show-off, but she’s so adorable with it, it’s hard to stay cross.
“Hey, Becky,” says a cheerful voice behind me, and I turn to see Ellie, who is Suze’s nanny and absolutely brilliant. (There’s also Nanny, who looked after Tarkie when he was little and has never left. But she just potters around and tells people to wear undershirts.) “I’m taking the other children to watch from the steps there.” She points at a bank on the other side of the lake. “They’ll get a better view. Does Minnie want to come?”
“Oh, thanks,” I say gratefully. “Minnie, if you want to go to the steps with the others, you have to give the truck to Wilfie.”
“Steps?” Minnie pauses at this new word.
“Yes! Steps! Exciting steps.” I grab the truck from her and give it back to Wilfie. “Go with Ellie, sweetheart. Hey, Tarquin!” I call, as I see him hurrying by. “This all looks spectacular.”
“Yes.” Tarquin seems a bit desperate. “Well, I hope so. There’s a water-pressure problem. Whole area’s affected. Terrible timing for us.”
“Oh no!”
“Turn it up,” Tarkie says feverishly into his walkie-talkie. “Whatever it takes! We don’t want a feeble little gush, we want a spectacle!” He looks up at us and grimaces. “Fountains are trickier blighters than I realized.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Luke says reassuringly. “It’s a marvelous idea.”
“Well, I hope so.” Tarkie wipes his face, then checks the countdown clock, which reads 4:58. “Crikey. I must go.”
The crowd is getting bigger and there are now two local TV news crews interviewing people. Luke takes a couple of glasses of wine and hands me one, and we clink glasses. As we near the cordoned-off VIP area, I can see Suze talking animatedly to Tarquin’s business manager, Angus.
“Tarkie must surely have business interests in the States,” she’s saying. “I’m certain he needs to do a trip out there. Don’t you agree?”
“It’s really not necessary, Lady Cleath-Stuart,” Angus says, looking surprised. “All the U.S. investments are taken care of.”
“Do we have any investments in California?” persists Suze. “Like an orange grove or something? Because I think we should visit them. I’ll go, if you like.” She looks over at me and winks, and I beam back. Go, Suze!
The earl and countess are making their way to the front of the crowd now, forging a path with their shooting sticks and staring critically at the lake.
“If he wanted to build something,” the earl is saying, “what’s wrong with a folly? Tuck it away somewhere. But a fountain? Bloody stupid idea.”
I stare at him angrily. How dare they come along and be so critical?
“I disagree,” I say coolly. “I believe this fountain will be a major landmark in the country for centuries to come.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” He fixes his baleful gaze on me, and I lift my chin. I’m not afraid of some old earl.
“Yes,” I say defiantly. “Today will be unforgettable. You’ll see.”
“Sixty! Fifty-nine!” the loudspeaker guy starts chanting, and I feel a rush of excitement. At last! Tarkie’s fountain! I clutch Suze’s hand and she beams back excitedly.
