‘Wait there, Minnie,’ says Elinor, as Minnie scrambles up beside me on the sofa. ‘I’ve bought you a special cake.’
She heads to a nearby bureau against the wall. As she turns, holding a silver tray with a dome on it, her cheeks have turned just the faintest tinge of pink, and … is that half a minuscule smile? Is Elinor excited?
She places the dish on the table and lifts the silver dome.
Oh my sweet Lord. How much did that cost?
It’s a heart-shaped cake, covered in perfect pink fondant icing, with pink truffles and glacé cherries arranged symmetrically around the edge, and a name piped in immaculate icing in the centre: Minnie.
‘Do you see?’ Elinor is gazing at Minnie for a reaction. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Cake!’ says Minnie, her eyes lighting up greedily. ‘Miiiine cake!’
‘It’s not just a cake,’ says Elinor a little sharply. ‘It’s a cake with your name on it. Don’t you see that?’
‘Elinor, she can’t read,’ I explain gently. ‘She’s not old enough.’
‘Oh.’ Elinor looks put out. ‘I see.’ She’s just standing there, still holding the silver dome, and I can tell she’s disappointed.
‘But it’s lovely,’ I say quickly. ‘Really thoughtful.’
I’m genuinely touched by the trouble she’s gone to, in fact I wish I could take a picture of it with my phone. But then how would I explain it to Luke?
Elinor cuts a slice and hands it to Minnie, who stuffs it into her mouth, smearing cream and crumbs everywhere. I hastily grab a couple of napkins and try to contain the mess – but to my surprise Elinor doesn’t seem as uptight about it as I expected. She doesn’t even flinch when a glacé cherry rolls on to the immaculate Ritz carpet.
‘Now, I’ve bought some new jigsaw puzzles,’ she says, sipping her tea. ‘This particular one of Notre Dame is an interesting one.’
Notre Dame? For a two-year-old? Is she crazy? What’s wrong with Maisy Mouse?
But amazingly, Minnie is listening, entranced, as Elinor informs her about the different shades of grey and the need to start at the edges. When Elinor tips the puzzle out, she watches with huge eyes, and only timidly reaches for pieces when Elinor tells her to. She keeps looking up at me as though inviting me to join in, but I can’t bring myself to do some stupid puzzle. There’s a line of tension running through me like a steel thread, getting tighter and tighter. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
My mobile suddenly rings and I practically leap off the sofa, I’m so nervy. What if it’s The Look telling me they’ve done their investigation and I’m fired? What if it’s Luke and he hears Elinor’s voice?
But as I pull out my phone I see Bonnie’s ID.
‘Elinor, excuse me a moment,’ I say quickly, and head over to the other side of the massive sitting room. ‘Hi Bonnie, what’s up?’
‘Dear, I can’t speak for long.’ Bonnie sounds really flustered. ‘But we’ve had rather a set-back.’
‘Set-back?’ I feel a jolt. ‘What do you mean?’
Please let it be something small. Please let it be that we’ve got another nut-allergy person. I can’t cope with anything else big …
‘I don’t know if you’re aware that Luke’s been trying to set up a meeting with Christian Scott-Hughes? He’s Sir Bernard Cross’s—’
‘… right-hand man,’ I join in. ‘Yes, he won’t stop talking about it.’
‘Well, they’ve set a date. The only date Christian can do. And it’s 7 April.’
I feel a nasty little twinge. ‘What time?’
‘Lunchtime.’
I breathe out. ‘Well, that should still be all right—’
‘In Paris.’
‘Paris?’ I stare at the phone in horror.
‘They’re planning to stay overnight. Luke’s asked me to book flights and a hotel.’
No. No. I can’t be hearing this.
‘He can’t go to Paris! Tell him his diary’s booked! Or phone Christian Scott-Hughes’s office and tell them—’
‘Becky, you don’t understand.’ Bonnie sounds as hassled as I feel. ‘Christian Scott-Hughes is a very busy man. Just to get this slot has been quite a coup. If we rearrange, it will be for several months’ time. I simply can’t do it.’
‘But what about that whole fake conference you set up?’
‘Luke’s missing it. He says it’s not important enough.’
I stare blindly at a gilt-framed painting of a girl in a red hat. My mind is whirling. Luke can’t go to Paris on the day of his party. It just can’t happen.
‘You’ll just have to get him to reschedule,’ I say desperately. ‘Make up some reason. Anything!’
‘I’ve tried!’ Bonnie sounds at the end of her tether. ‘Believe me, I’ve tried! I’ve suggested that he really should be at the conference, I’ve invented a lunch with his financial backers … I’ve even reminded him it’s his birthday. He just laughed. He won’t listen to anything I say. Becky …’ She exhales. ‘I know you wanted to surprise him. But I think you’re going to have to tell him the truth.’
‘No!’ I stare at the phone, aghast.
‘But it’s the only way …’
‘It’s not!’
‘Dear, is the surprise really that important?’