Mini Shopaholic
Page 44
‘Just one small detail,’ adds Rupert pleasantly after I’ve dictated my mobile-phone number. ‘You’ll have to join The Service. I mean, obviously we can fast-track your membership …’
‘I’d love to,’ I say firmly. ‘I was thinking of doing it anyway.’
This is so cool. We’re going to have a private concierge service! We’ll be able to get into concerts and all the best hotels and secret clubs. I should have done this years ago—
‘So, I’ll email those forms to you this afternoon …’ Rupert’s saying.
‘Fab! How much does it cost?’ I add as an afterthought.
‘The annual fee is all-inclusive,’ replies Rupert smoothly. ‘We don’t sting you for any extra charges, unlike some of our competitors! And for you and your husband, it would come in at six.’
‘Oh right,’ I say uncertainly. ‘Six … hundred pounds, you mean?’
‘Thousand.’ He gives a relaxed laugh. ‘I’m afraid.’
Six thousand pounds? Just for the annual fee? Yikes.
I mean, I’m sure it’s worth it, but …
‘And …’ I swallow, hardly daring to ask. ‘That party we were talking about. With the tents and the jugglers and everything. About how much would that cost?’
‘That came in under budget, you’ll be pleased to hear.’ Rupert gives a little laugh. ‘The total was two hundred and thirty.’
I feel a bit wobbly. Two hundred and thirty thousand pounds?
‘Becky? Are you still there? Obviously we can work with budgets a lot smaller than that!’ He sounds cheery and light-hearted. ‘A hundred grand would normally be our starting point …’
‘Right!’ My voice is a bit shrill. ‘Great! Well … you know what, actually … thinking about it … I’m still at a very early planning stage. So maybe I’ll call you back and we can have a meeting at a … later date. Thanks so much. Bye.’
I switch off my phone before my cheeks can turn any redder. Two hundred and thirty thousand pounds? For a party? I mean, I really love Luke and everything, but two hundred and thirty thousand—
‘Becky?’
I look up and jump a mile. It’s Luke. What’s Luke doing here? He’s standing about three yards away, staring at me in astonishment. To my sudden horror I realize I’m holding the transparent folder full of guest lists, conference details and everything else. I’m about to give the whole bloody thing away.
‘What a surprise!’ He comes forward to kiss me and I feel a spurt of panic. I hastily try to stuff the folder away, but in my confusion drop it on the pavement.
‘Let me.’ He bends down.
‘No!’ I yelp. ‘It’s private! I mean, it’s confidential. Personal-shopping details of a member of the Saudi Royal Family. Highly sensitive.’ I hastily scrabble for it, folding it up as best I can and shoving the whole lot in my bag. ‘There!’ I bob up again and smile fixedly. ‘So … how are you?’
Luke doesn’t answer. He’s giving me one of those looks. One of those ‘something’s going on’ looks.
‘Becky, what’s up? Were you coming to see me?’
‘No!’ I retort sharply. ‘Of course not!’
‘So what are you doing in this area?’
Immediately I realize my crucial mistake. I should have said I was coming to see him.
‘I … um …’ I try to think quickly of a good reason for being in EC2 at lunchtime. ‘I’m trying to get to know the city better. I’m doing it postcode by postcode. You should see SE24, it’s fab!’
There’s silence.
‘Becky.’ Luke runs both hands through his thick dark hair. ‘Be honest with me. Are you in some kind of … financial trouble? Have you been seeing someone?’
What?
‘No!’ I exclaim, offended. ‘Of course not! At least … no more than normal,’ I add, feeling the need to be honest. ‘That is so typical of you, Luke. You bump into me on the street and immediately assume I’m in debt!’
I mean, I am in debt. But that’s hardly the point.
‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ he replies heatedly. ‘You act shiftily, you’re hiding paperwork from me, obviously something’s going on …’
Oh God, oh God, I have to deflect him.
‘OK!’ I say. ‘You got me. I was … I was …’ My mind gropes frantically. ‘Having Botox.’
Luke’s face drops and I take the opportunity to zip my bag shut.
‘I’d love to,’ I say firmly. ‘I was thinking of doing it anyway.’
This is so cool. We’re going to have a private concierge service! We’ll be able to get into concerts and all the best hotels and secret clubs. I should have done this years ago—
‘So, I’ll email those forms to you this afternoon …’ Rupert’s saying.
‘Fab! How much does it cost?’ I add as an afterthought.
‘The annual fee is all-inclusive,’ replies Rupert smoothly. ‘We don’t sting you for any extra charges, unlike some of our competitors! And for you and your husband, it would come in at six.’
‘Oh right,’ I say uncertainly. ‘Six … hundred pounds, you mean?’
‘Thousand.’ He gives a relaxed laugh. ‘I’m afraid.’
Six thousand pounds? Just for the annual fee? Yikes.
I mean, I’m sure it’s worth it, but …
‘And …’ I swallow, hardly daring to ask. ‘That party we were talking about. With the tents and the jugglers and everything. About how much would that cost?’
‘That came in under budget, you’ll be pleased to hear.’ Rupert gives a little laugh. ‘The total was two hundred and thirty.’
I feel a bit wobbly. Two hundred and thirty thousand pounds?
‘Becky? Are you still there? Obviously we can work with budgets a lot smaller than that!’ He sounds cheery and light-hearted. ‘A hundred grand would normally be our starting point …’
‘Right!’ My voice is a bit shrill. ‘Great! Well … you know what, actually … thinking about it … I’m still at a very early planning stage. So maybe I’ll call you back and we can have a meeting at a … later date. Thanks so much. Bye.’
I switch off my phone before my cheeks can turn any redder. Two hundred and thirty thousand pounds? For a party? I mean, I really love Luke and everything, but two hundred and thirty thousand—
‘Becky?’
I look up and jump a mile. It’s Luke. What’s Luke doing here? He’s standing about three yards away, staring at me in astonishment. To my sudden horror I realize I’m holding the transparent folder full of guest lists, conference details and everything else. I’m about to give the whole bloody thing away.
‘What a surprise!’ He comes forward to kiss me and I feel a spurt of panic. I hastily try to stuff the folder away, but in my confusion drop it on the pavement.
‘Let me.’ He bends down.
‘No!’ I yelp. ‘It’s private! I mean, it’s confidential. Personal-shopping details of a member of the Saudi Royal Family. Highly sensitive.’ I hastily scrabble for it, folding it up as best I can and shoving the whole lot in my bag. ‘There!’ I bob up again and smile fixedly. ‘So … how are you?’
Luke doesn’t answer. He’s giving me one of those looks. One of those ‘something’s going on’ looks.
‘Becky, what’s up? Were you coming to see me?’
‘No!’ I retort sharply. ‘Of course not!’
‘So what are you doing in this area?’
Immediately I realize my crucial mistake. I should have said I was coming to see him.
‘I … um …’ I try to think quickly of a good reason for being in EC2 at lunchtime. ‘I’m trying to get to know the city better. I’m doing it postcode by postcode. You should see SE24, it’s fab!’
There’s silence.
‘Becky.’ Luke runs both hands through his thick dark hair. ‘Be honest with me. Are you in some kind of … financial trouble? Have you been seeing someone?’
What?
‘No!’ I exclaim, offended. ‘Of course not! At least … no more than normal,’ I add, feeling the need to be honest. ‘That is so typical of you, Luke. You bump into me on the street and immediately assume I’m in debt!’
I mean, I am in debt. But that’s hardly the point.
‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ he replies heatedly. ‘You act shiftily, you’re hiding paperwork from me, obviously something’s going on …’
Oh God, oh God, I have to deflect him.
‘OK!’ I say. ‘You got me. I was … I was …’ My mind gropes frantically. ‘Having Botox.’
Luke’s face drops and I take the opportunity to zip my bag shut.
