He never told me Barcelona was on the cards! That’s so Luke, keeping it quiet until the deal’s done. If it hadn’t come off, he probably never would have said a word about it.
Eight offices. And London and New York. That’s pretty stupendous.
The music changes to a slow track and Luke pulls me closer. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Jess and Tom have sidled farther onto the dance floor together. Go on, I will Tom silently. Kiss her.
“So, things are going pretty well?” I say.
“Things, my darling, could not be going more fantastically.” Luke meets my eyes, the teasing gone. “Seriously. We’re going to treble our size.”
“Wow.” I digest this for a few moments. “Are we going to be squillionaires?
“Could be.” He nods.
This is so cool. I have always wanted to be a squillionaire. We can have a building called Brandon Tower! And Luke can have his own Apprentice-type reality show!
“Can we buy an island?” Suze has got her own Scottish island and I’ve always felt a bit left out.
“Maybe.” Luke laughs.
I’m about to say we need a private jet too, when the baby starts squirming around inside me. I take hold of Luke’s hands and put them on my abdomen.
“It’s saying hello.”
“Hello, baby,” he murmurs back in his deep voice. He pulls me even tighter and I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, feeling the music thud through me like a heartbeat.
I can’t remember ever being so happy. We’re dancing cheek-to-cheek, our baby is kicking between us, we’ve got a fabulous new house, and we’re going to be squillionaires! Everything’s just perfect.
BECKY BRANDON
NURSERY RHYMES SELF-TEST
MARY, MARY QUITE CONTRARY…
Had a little lamb.
And
TOM, TOM, THE PIPER’S SON…
Went to London to look at the
Fell off the wall.
And he called for his pipe.
And all the king’s horses and his fiddlers three.
Couldn’t put
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
LITTLE JACK HORNER…
He had ten thousand men
Met a pieman
LITTLE BOY BLUE…
Lost his sheep
Oh, fuck knows.
FIVE
OK. THIS IS MY OUTFIT for my first-ever appointment with a celebrity must-have obstetrician:
Embroidered kaftan top like Jemima Khan
Maternity jeans (with the elastic hidden in the pockets, not with a great revolting panel of stretchy fabric)
My new Elle Macpherson maternity underwear (lilac)
Prada sandals
I look pretty good, I think. I hope. I tweak my kaftan and toss my hair back at my reflection.
“Hi,” I murmur. “Hi, Kate. Hi, Elle. God, fancy bumping into you. I’m wearing your underpants!”
No. Don’t mention the underpants.
I scrutinize myself one final time, add a dusting of powder, then pick up my bag.
“Luke, are you ready?” I call.
“Uh-huh.” Luke puts his head round the study door, his phone wedged under his chin. “Uh-huh. Hold on, Iain.” He puts his hand over the receiver. “Becky, do I really need to come?”
“What?” I stare at him in horror. “Of course you need to come!”
Luke runs his eyes over my face, as though assessing the full extent of my mood. “Iain,” he says at last, turning back to the phone. “This is complicated.” He disappears back into the office and his voice descends to a murmur.
Complicated? What does he mean, complicated? We’re going to the obstetrician, end of story. I start pacing furiously around the hall, rehearsing retorts in my mind. Can’t Iain wait for once? Does our whole life have to revolve around Arcodas? Isn’t our baby’s birth important to you? Have you ever cared about me at all?
Well, OK. Maybe not that last one.
At last Luke reappears at the study door. The phone’s gone and he’s putting on his suit jacket.
“Listen, Becky…” he begins.
I knew it. He’s not coming.
“You’ve never wanted to see Venetia Carter, have you?” My words tumble out. “ You’re prejudiced against her! Well, fine! You go and do your business things and I’ll go on my own!”
“Becky…” He lifts a hand. “I’m coming to the appointment.”
“Oh,” I say, mollified. “Well, we’d better go. It’s twenty minutes’ walk.”
“We’re going by car.” He heads back into the office and I follow him in. “Iain’s on his way down from the hotel group meeting. He can pick us up, we’ll have a very quick meeting in the car, then I’ll join you.”
“Right,” I say after a pause. “That sounds OK.”
Actually, it sounds awful. I can’t stand Iain Wheeler; the last thing I want to do is sit in a car with him. But I can’t say that to Luke. There’s already a slight situation over me and Arcodas.
Which was not my fault. It was Jess’s. A few months ago, she got me into leading this big environmental protest against them, when I had no idea they were Luke’s new, important client. Luke turned the whole thing round into a positive PR exercise and the Arcodas people pretended they had a sense of humor about it — but I’m not sure I’ve ever really been forgiven.
“And I’m not prejudiced,” Luke adds, straightening his tie. “But I’ll just tell you now, Becky. This obstetrician woman will have to be pretty damn good for us to cancel Dr. Braine.”
“Luke, you’re going to love her,” I say patiently. “I know you are.”