Mini Shopaholic
Page 26
‘Puh-lease.’ Danny gives a modest laugh. ‘Not famous. More … renowned. Notorious. Where’s Luke?’ he adds to me in a lower voice. ‘I need him. Jarek’s been calling me every day. He’s threatening to, like, come round.’ Danny’s voice rises in alarm. ‘You know I don’t do confrontation.’
Jarek is Danny’s former business manager. We met him last year and soon realized he was taking a massive cut of Danny’s money for basically doing nothing except wearing Danny’s clothes for free and having lots of lunches on expenses. Luke was the one who arranged his termination and lectured Danny about not giving people jobs just because you like their haircut.
‘I thought you changed all your numbers?’ I say, puzzled. ‘I thought you weren’t going to take any more of Jarek’s calls.’
‘I didn’t,’ he says defensively. ‘At first. But he had great tickets for this festival in Bali, so we went to that, and that meant he had my new cell number, so …’
‘Danny! You went to a festival with him? After you’d fired him?’
Danny looks caught out.
‘OK. I fucked up. Where’s Luke?’ He peers plaintively around the church. ‘Can Luke talk to him?’
‘I don’t know where Luke is,’ I say, more snappily than I meant to. ‘He’s on his way in a helicopter.’
‘A helicopter?’ Danny raises his eyebrows. ‘Quite the action man. Is he going to drop down on a wire like the SAS?’
‘No.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t be silly.’
Although come to think of it, maybe he will. I mean, where else are they going to find a place to land a helicopter?
I get out my phone and text Luke:
R u in helicopter yet? Where r u going to land? On roof?
‘Oh my God. Have you seen his lordship?’ Danny’s been distracted by the sight of Tarquin. ‘Be still my beating crotch.’
‘Danny!’ I hit his arm and glance at Reverend Parker, who thankfully has moved away. ‘We’re in church, remember?’
Danny has always had a bit of a thing about Tarquin. And to be fair, Tarquin looks pretty extraordinary today. He’s wearing a white billowy shirt with black breeches and a heavy, military-style coat on top. His dark hair is all ruffled from the wind, which is a great improvement on his normal non-style, and his bony, stoaty face looks almost chiselled in the gloom of the church.
‘That’s my next collection, right in front of me.’ Danny’s sketching Tarquin on some old book or other. ‘English lord meets Russian prince.’
‘He’s Scottish,’ I point out.
‘Even better. I’ll throw in a kilt.’
‘Danny!’ I giggle as I catch a glimpse of the sketch. ‘You can’t draw that in church!’
That picture of Tarquin is not accurate. In fact, it’s obscene. Although actually, I did hear once from Suze’s mum that all the Cleath-Stuart men were very well endowed. Maybe it’s more accurate than I realize.
‘So where’s my god-daughter?’ Danny rips off the page, folds it up and begins another drawing.
‘She’s with Mum somewhere …’ I look around for Minnie and suddenly spy her about ten yards away, standing with a group of Mum’s friends. Oh God, what’s she been doing now? She has about five handbags looped over her arms, and is now tugging hard at an elderly lady’s shoulder bag, yelling, ‘Miiine!’
‘So sweet!’ I hear the lady tinkle with laughter. ‘Here you are, Minnie, dear.’ She drapes the shoulder strap around Minnie’s neck, and Minnie staggers off, determinedly clutching all the bags.
‘Nice Balenciaga,’ comments Danny. ‘The perfect accessory when one’s being christened.’
I nod. ‘That’s why I let her borrow it.’
‘And you settled for the Miu Miu, which I know for a fact you’ve had for a year, whereas the Balenciaga is new …’ Danny gives a melodramatic sigh. ‘I can’t think of a more beautiful example of motherly love.’
‘Shut up!’ I give him a push. ‘Keep drawing.’
As I watch him sketching, a sudden thought occurs to me. If Danny really does base his next collection on Tarkie, then maybe they could join forces somehow. Maybe they could do a tie-in promotion with Shetland Shortbread! I am such a business brain. Luke will be so impressed. I’m about to tell Suze my great idea, when Reverend Parker’s voice booms out.
‘Perhaps everyone could take their seats?’ He starts ushering us towards the pews. ‘And then we can start.’
Jarek is Danny’s former business manager. We met him last year and soon realized he was taking a massive cut of Danny’s money for basically doing nothing except wearing Danny’s clothes for free and having lots of lunches on expenses. Luke was the one who arranged his termination and lectured Danny about not giving people jobs just because you like their haircut.
‘I thought you changed all your numbers?’ I say, puzzled. ‘I thought you weren’t going to take any more of Jarek’s calls.’
‘I didn’t,’ he says defensively. ‘At first. But he had great tickets for this festival in Bali, so we went to that, and that meant he had my new cell number, so …’
‘Danny! You went to a festival with him? After you’d fired him?’
Danny looks caught out.
‘OK. I fucked up. Where’s Luke?’ He peers plaintively around the church. ‘Can Luke talk to him?’
‘I don’t know where Luke is,’ I say, more snappily than I meant to. ‘He’s on his way in a helicopter.’
‘A helicopter?’ Danny raises his eyebrows. ‘Quite the action man. Is he going to drop down on a wire like the SAS?’
‘No.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t be silly.’
Although come to think of it, maybe he will. I mean, where else are they going to find a place to land a helicopter?
I get out my phone and text Luke:
R u in helicopter yet? Where r u going to land? On roof?
‘Oh my God. Have you seen his lordship?’ Danny’s been distracted by the sight of Tarquin. ‘Be still my beating crotch.’
‘Danny!’ I hit his arm and glance at Reverend Parker, who thankfully has moved away. ‘We’re in church, remember?’
Danny has always had a bit of a thing about Tarquin. And to be fair, Tarquin looks pretty extraordinary today. He’s wearing a white billowy shirt with black breeches and a heavy, military-style coat on top. His dark hair is all ruffled from the wind, which is a great improvement on his normal non-style, and his bony, stoaty face looks almost chiselled in the gloom of the church.
‘That’s my next collection, right in front of me.’ Danny’s sketching Tarquin on some old book or other. ‘English lord meets Russian prince.’
‘He’s Scottish,’ I point out.
‘Even better. I’ll throw in a kilt.’
‘Danny!’ I giggle as I catch a glimpse of the sketch. ‘You can’t draw that in church!’
That picture of Tarquin is not accurate. In fact, it’s obscene. Although actually, I did hear once from Suze’s mum that all the Cleath-Stuart men were very well endowed. Maybe it’s more accurate than I realize.
‘So where’s my god-daughter?’ Danny rips off the page, folds it up and begins another drawing.
‘She’s with Mum somewhere …’ I look around for Minnie and suddenly spy her about ten yards away, standing with a group of Mum’s friends. Oh God, what’s she been doing now? She has about five handbags looped over her arms, and is now tugging hard at an elderly lady’s shoulder bag, yelling, ‘Miiine!’
‘So sweet!’ I hear the lady tinkle with laughter. ‘Here you are, Minnie, dear.’ She drapes the shoulder strap around Minnie’s neck, and Minnie staggers off, determinedly clutching all the bags.
‘Nice Balenciaga,’ comments Danny. ‘The perfect accessory when one’s being christened.’
I nod. ‘That’s why I let her borrow it.’
‘And you settled for the Miu Miu, which I know for a fact you’ve had for a year, whereas the Balenciaga is new …’ Danny gives a melodramatic sigh. ‘I can’t think of a more beautiful example of motherly love.’
‘Shut up!’ I give him a push. ‘Keep drawing.’
As I watch him sketching, a sudden thought occurs to me. If Danny really does base his next collection on Tarkie, then maybe they could join forces somehow. Maybe they could do a tie-in promotion with Shetland Shortbread! I am such a business brain. Luke will be so impressed. I’m about to tell Suze my great idea, when Reverend Parker’s voice booms out.
‘Perhaps everyone could take their seats?’ He starts ushering us towards the pews. ‘And then we can start.’
