“Not this time,” I say, and turn on my heel. “Thanks anyway.” As I stride away down the corridor, my head is high, but my face is puce and I’m dangerously near tears. I failed and Alicia won again. How come she won again? How is this fair?
As I get back home, I feel at my lowest ebb since we’ve arrived in L.A. It’s all going wrong, in every direction. I’ve failed on my mission to meet Nenita Dietz. I’ve failed on my mission to make lots of new friends. Everyone at Little Leaf will think I’m some awful psycho.
I’m just going into the kitchen and wondering whether to pour myself a glass of wine when my phone rings. To my surprise, it’s Luke. He doesn’t usually phone in the middle of the day.
“Becky! How’s it going?”
He sounds so warm and kind and familiar that for an awful moment I think I might burst into tears.
“I just saw Alicia,” I say, slumping into a chair. “Tried to be digna-dive.”
“How’d that work out?”
“Well, you know how you said not to call her an evil witch? I called her an evil witch.”
Luke’s laugh is so hearty and reassuring, I feel better at once.
“Never mind,” he says. “Ignore her. You’re so much bigger than her, Becky.”
“I know, but she’s at school every day, and everyone thinks she’s lovely …” I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t really get the whole school-gate thing. Whenever he picks Minnie up, he strides straight to the door and leads her away and doesn’t even seem to notice that there are any other parents. Let alone what they’re wearing or gossiping about or what sidelong looks they’re shooting at whom.
“Are you at home?” he says now.
“Yes, just got back. Why, have you forgotten something? D’you want me to bring it in?”
“No.” Luke pauses. “Now, Becky, I want you to relax.”
“OK,” I say, puzzled.
“Please stay relaxed.”
“I am relaxed!” I say impatiently. “Why do you keep telling me to relax?”
“Because there’s been a change of plan. I’m coming back home to hold a meeting at the house. With …” He hesitates. “With Sage.”
It’s as if lightning zings through me. I sit bolt upright, every nerve alive. My misery has vanished. Alicia suddenly seems irrelevant to my life. Sage Seymour? Here? What shall I wear? Have I got time to wash my hair?
“We probably won’t see you,” Luke’s saying. “We’ll probably just go into the library. But I wanted to warn you.”
“Right,” I say breathlessly. “Do you want me to sort out some snacks? I could make cupcakes. Quinoa ones,” I add hastily. “I know she likes quinoa.”
“Darling, you don’t need to make any special effort.” Luke seems to think for a moment. “In fact, maybe you should go out.”
Go out? Go out? Is he mad?
“I’m staying here,” I say firmly.
“OK,” says Luke. “Well … I’ll see you in about half an hour.”
Half an hour! I put the phone down and look around the house in sudden dissatisfaction. It doesn’t look nearly cool enough. I should rearrange the furniture. I have to choose the right outfit, too, and do my makeup again … but first things first. I grab my phone and text Suze and Mum, my fingers clumsy with excitement: Guess what? Sage is coming to our house!!!
Somehow, half an hour later, I’m almost ready. I’ve washed my hair and blasted it with the hair dryer, and I’ve got Velcro rollers in (I’ll quickly take them out when I hear the car). I’ve moved the sofas around in the living room and plumped up the cushions. I’m wearing my new slip dress from Anthropologie, and I’ve memorized the story lines of all Sage’s forthcoming films, which I quickly Googled.
I have a couple of complete outfits ready for Sage, but I won’t show them to her at once. I don’t want her to feel bombarded. In fact, I’m going to have to do this subtly, as I know Luke won’t appreciate me hijacking his meeting. I’ll just be very casual about it, I decide. I’ll have the brocade coat lying about and she’ll admire it and try it on and it will all snowball from there.
The sound of an engine comes distantly from the front of the house, followed by that of car doors. They’re here! I put up a hand to smooth down my hair—then suddenly remember my Velcro rollers. Quickly, I pull them out and hurl them one by one behind a big potted plant. I shake out my hair, casually recline on the sofa, and grab Variety, which is a brilliant accessory as it instantly makes you look like a cool movie person.
I can hear the front door opening. They’re coming in. Stay calm, Becky … stay cool …
“… go into the library, I thought.” Luke is speaking. “Sage, meet my wife, Becky.”
My face starts prickling as three figures appear round the door. Oh my God. It’s her. It’s her! Right here in this room! She’s smaller than I expected, with tiny bronzed arms and that familiar treacly hair. Clothes: teeny white jeans, orange flats, a little gray tank, and The Jacket. The Jacket. I can’t believe she’s wearing it! It’s pale buttery suede, and she was wearing it in Us Weekly last week. It was in “Who Wore It Best?” and she won. Of course she did.
I’ve met Aran before: He’s Sage’s manager. He’s tall and buff and blond, with blue eyes and slanty eyebrows, and he kisses me politely in greeting.
“Hi, Becky,” Sage says pleasantly. “We spoke on the phone, right? For Luke’s party.”