Oh God, I knew he heard. And he’s kept quiet about it all this time.
‘Was your wish about this party?’ he’s saying. ‘Is that why you rushed to shut the elf up?’
My mind flashes back to the words I scrawled on the Christmassy paper. It seems a million years ago now.
‘Yes,’ I say after a pause. ‘That’s right. I wished that I could plan you a surprise party and you really would be surprised. And you were!’
‘You got your wish.’ He smiles.
‘I did.’ I survey his face, then reach up and run a hand gently down his cheek. ‘I really did.’
‘So, tell me.’ His eyes suddenly glint with amusement. ‘Exactly which bits of your recent strange behaviour can I ascribe to party-planning?’
‘I haven’t been strange.’ I hit him.
‘My love, you’ve been bordering on lunacy. Conceiving a boy, so we have to have sex very, very quickly?’
‘Party.’ I grin.
‘Ovulating?’
‘Party.’
‘The Botox? The so-called “boob job”?’
I can’t help giggling at his expression. ‘Party. I’d been meeting Bonnie for the first time. Oh, and don’t bollock her about mentioning your shower gel any more!’ I add sternly. ‘It was me who told her to mention it. And the gym. And anything else that sounded a bit strange.’
‘You?’ He stares at me. ‘Oh, for fuck’s …’ He shakes his head as it obviously all starts falling into place. ‘Why the hell didn’t I realize? I should have known she wouldn’t become that erratic overnight. What about the sixteen coats?’ he adds suddenly. ‘Was that a party thing too?’
‘Er … no,’ I admit. ‘That really was Minnie. Naughty girl, Minnie,’ I add reprovingly.
‘But what I really don’t understand is … how did you achieve all this?’ He sweeps the air with a hand. ‘I mean, Becky, this is beyond spectacular. This is …’ He trails off.
I know what’s underlying his words. He doesn’t want to say it, but he’s worried I took out some massive loan for all this and I won’t tell him till tomorrow when I’ll reveal we’re broke.
Honestly, he could have more faith.
But there’s no point pretending this evening didn’t cost shed-loads of money. Any moron can see that it did.
‘I had … help,’ I say. ‘Major, major help. With everything. Bonnie was amazing,’ I add quickly, before he presses me more on exactly who helped with the finances. ‘She coordinated everything, she arranged the guest list, she sent out the invitations …’
‘And of course that’s why she was looking so shifty the other day.’ Luke exhales, looking rueful. ‘OK. I get it. I’ve really fucked up. I owe her a big bunch of flowers.’
‘Not lilies,’ I put in. ‘You always get them and she can’t stand them, but she’s too polite to say anything. Get sweet peas and ranunculus. Or I could tell you all her favourite Jo Malone products.’
Luke shoots me an astonished look. ‘Anything else?’
‘Loads, if you’re interested,’ I say blithely. ‘Bonnie and I are best friends now. We tell each other everything.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Luke looks as though he’s not sure what he thinks about this.
‘We really bonded over this whole thing. It’s been such a saga.’ I take a swig of cocktail and kick off my shoes. Talking everything over with Luke, it feels as if some wound-up part of me is finally starting to relax. ‘You can’t imagine. Trying not to let you see the internet, and breaking your BlackBerry …’
‘I still can’t believe you did that.’ He raises a half-grin –although I’m not sure he totally has a sense of humour about his BlackBerry.
‘And the worst thing was that bloody meeting in Paris! Oh my God, I nearly killed you!’ I can’t help starting to laugh. ‘We were all, like, “What do we do? How do we move it?” And you were so bloody pleased with yourself …’
‘Shit.’ I can see the realization hitting Luke. ‘Of course. The meeting was supposed to be today—’ He breaks off. ‘Wait a minute, though. You’re not saying …’ I can sense the cogs whirring in his brain. ‘You couldn’t have been behind that, surely. You’re not telling me that you personally somehow arranged for Sir Bernard Cross to decide he wanted to give me a meeting?’ He gives an astonished laugh. ‘I mean, I’ll believe many things of you, Becky, but that …’
I keep smiling, but inside I’m kicking myself. I’ve said too much. Let’s move on, quick.
‘Not me, exactly. Oh God, and the marquee …’ I hastily launch into a full account of bartering for the marquee, and Luke laughs at all the right places, but I can tell he’s preoccupied. When I’ve finished, we lapse into silence and he sips his drink pensively, and I know exactly where his mind is roaming.
‘I always knew someone influential was behind that meeting,’ he says at last, staring into his drink. ‘I said so at the time. I could sense some powerful person behind the scenes, helping me out. And now I think I know who it was.’ He looks up, straight at me. ‘It’s obvious. And it’s obvious why you don’t want to tell me.’
My heart has stopped. My hand has frozen round the stem of my glass. Luke’s so sharp. His mind’s so quick. I should never have let anything slip out.