My heart is thudding. There’s no way I can let them turn up at some crummy rented townhouse. Not after Dad’s speech.
‘We could even pop round and meet your new neighbours!’ Mum’s still talking cheerily. ‘They might turn out to be good friends to you, Becky. I mean, look at me and Janice, still friends after thirty years. I can remember the day we first moved in, and Janice came round with a bottle of sherry … Ooh, Dad says, can you remind him of the address in case we get separated?’
My mind works like a spring trap.
‘Mum, I can’t hear you … I’m losing you …’ I rub the phone against my bag to make a kerfuffly noise, then switch it off and look at Luke. ‘It’s OK. They don’t know the address.’ I turn urgently to Alf. ‘We need to lose them.’
‘Lose them?’
‘Yes! Like in cop films. Duck down a side alley or whatever.’
‘A side alley?’ He sounds startled. ‘What side alley?’
‘I don’t know! Find one. You know, like in car chases!’ Doesn’t he watch movies?
‘I think my wife wants you to drive very fast down a narrow one-way street the wrong way, knock over a barrow of fruit, send crowds of people screaming, roll the van 360 degrees, and manage to elude my parents-in-law that way,’ says Luke in a deadpan voice. ‘I’m assuming you are a stunt removal driver?’
‘Shut up.’ I hit him on the chest. ‘Do you realize the situation we’re in?’
‘If it were up to me we wouldn’t be in this situation,’ he says calmly. ‘Because we would have told your parents the truth in the first place.’
We pull up at a set of traffic lights. Mum and Dad pull up alongside and wave merrily, and I wave back with a sick grin.
‘OK,’ I instruct Alf. ‘When the lights change, you go!’
‘This is a lorry, duck, not a Ferrari.’
The lights change, and I start gesturing ‘Go, go!’ with my hands. Alf just shoots me a baleful look and puts the truck into gear unhurriedly.
Honestly. I feel like offering to drive myself.
‘Sorry folks. Fuel stop.’ Alf pulls into a service station, and sure enough, Mum and Dad’s Volvo follows us. A few moments later, Mum has got out of the car, bustled over and is knocking on the door of the cab.
‘Everything all right?’ she calls up.
‘Of course!’ I wind down the window and smile brightly. ‘Just getting some petrol.’
‘Only, I’ve got Janice on the line. You wouldn’t mind if she came along too, would you, love?’
What?
Before I can answer, Mum’s turned back to the phone. ‘Yes, we’re at the BP with the café … see you in a tick! Janice and Martin were in the car already, coming back from Yogacise …’ She turns to me. ‘There they are!’ She waves frantically as a black Audi turns in at the service-station entrance. ‘Yoo-hoo!’
‘Becky!’ Janice leans out of the window as the Audi approaches. ‘You don’t mind, do you, dear? Only your mum’s told us all about the house. So exciting!’
‘You follow us,’ Mum is telling Martin. ‘And we’ll follow the truck.’
I don’t believe this. We’ve got a convoy.
‘Put “Maida Vale” in your sat nav, Martin,’ Mum’s saying bossily ‘That way, even if we do get separated – Becky, what’s the exact address?’ She suddenly calls over to me.
‘I … er … I’ll text you …’
I’ve got to tell her the truth. I’ve got to. Right now.
‘The thing is, Mum …’ I swallow and look over at Luke for support, but he’s got out of the truck and is taking a call on the forecourt.
‘No, it’s not fucking OK,’ I can hear him saying.
Oh God. He looks really angry. What’s going on?
‘Becky.’ I jump as Janice appears out of nowhere, blinking at me through the cab window. She’s wearing a bright-pink yoga outfit which makes my eyes hurt just to look at it, together with pop socks and clogs. It’s a look which some edgy nineteen-year-old model could just about carry off. ‘I just wanted a little discreet word, while Luke is out of the way.’ She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. ‘It’s about the P. A. R. T. Y. I was reading Hello! the other day. That “Royal Fashion” party. Did you see it?’
I nod absently, watching Luke. He’s moved away from the cab, but I’m pretty sure he’s yelling at somebody. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like Minnie to hear his language.
Is he having a row with Sage Seymour? Is he breaking things off with her before I’ve even had a chance to meet her and become her best friend? If so, I will kill him.
‘… and they had a touch-up area for all the celebrities!’ Janice finishes with a flourish. ‘You see?’
I must have missed a beat somewhere.
‘Sorry, Janice.’ I smile apologetically. ‘I wasn’t quite following you.’
‘I’m a make-up artist, love,’ she says as though it’s obvious. ‘And I’d like to volunteer to host a little touch-up area myself. I’ll make up all the guests! It will be my gift to Luke.’
I’m speechless. Janice is not a make-up artist. She did one course at the adult-learning institute, and learned how to apply peach blusher and highlighter in badger stripes to a plastic dummy’s cheeks. And now she wants to make up people at my party?
‘Janice … that’s so sweet,’ I say as convincingly as I can. ‘But you mustn’t miss the fun.’