Shopaholic And Sister Part 34

"Becky appears to have offered my services to Nathan Temple in return for a handbag," says Luke curtly.

"A handbag?" Gary looks stunned.

"It wasn't just any old handbag!" I exclaim, rattled. "It was a limited edition Angel bag! There's only a few of them in the whole world! It was on the cover of Vogue! All the movie stars want one and everything!"

Both men look at me as though I'm speaking Martian.

"And anyway," I say, my face burning, "I thought doing a hotel launch would be fab! It's five-star and everything! You'd get to meet celebrities!"

"Celebrities?" echoes Luke, suddenly losing it. "Becky, I don't need to meet those kind of celebrities! I don't need to be launching some tacky criminal's hotel! I need to be here, with my team, focusing on my new client's needs."

"I didn't realize!" I say desperately. "I thought it was a brilliant networking coup!"

"Calm down, boss," Gary says to Luke soothingly. "We haven't promised him anything-"

"She has." Luke gestures toward me, and Gary now seems at a total loss.

"I didn't . . . promise exactly." My voice shakes a little. "I just said . . . you'd be delighted."

"You realize how much harder this makes it for me?" Luke is holding his head in his hands. "Becky, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me about it in Milan?"

The room is very still.

"Because the Angel bag cost two thousand euros," I say at last in a tiny voice. "I thought you'd be cross."

"Jesus Christ . . ." Luke sounds at the end of his tether.

"And then I didn't want to bother you! You were so busy with the Arcodas pitch. . . . I thought I'd deal with it myself. And I was dealing with it."

" 'Dealing with it,' " echoes Luke incredulously. "How were you dealing with it?"

"I told Nathan Temple you were ill," I gulp.

Comprehension dawns on Luke's face.

"The bunch of flowers," he says in even tones. "Was that from Nathan Temple?" Oh G.o.d.

"Yes," I whisper.

"He sent you flowers?" says Gary in disbelief.

"And a fruit basket," says Luke shortly.

Gary gives a sudden snort of laughter.

"It's not funny," says Luke, his voice like whiplash. "We've just won the biggest pitch of our lives. We should be out celebrating. Not having to deal with b.l.o.o.d.y Nathan Temple sitting in our foyer." He sinks into a chair.

"We don't want to make an enemy of him, Luke," says Gary, pulling a small face. "Not if he's going to buy the Daily World."

Luke's face is tense and motionless. I don't dare say a word.

Then abruptly he stands up. "We can't sit here all day. I'll go and see him. If I have to do the job I have to do the job." He gives me a look. "I just hope the handbag was worth it, Becky. I really hope it was worth it."

I feel a sudden stab of pain.

"Luke, I'm sorry," I say. "I'm really sorry. I never meant . . . I never realized-"

"Yeah, Becky," he interrupts in weary tones. "Whatever."

He leaves the room, followed by Gary. And I just sit there. Suddenly there's a tear rolling down my cheek. Everything was so perfect. And now it's all ruined.

Sixteen.

THIS HAS BEEN the worst week of our entire marriage.

I've barely seen Luke, he's been so tied up with work. He's had meetings every day with the Arcodas Group, plus there's been a huge crisis with one of his banking clients, and one of his main account managers was rushed to the hospital with meningitis. It's all been total mayhem.

And today, instead of having a chance to relax and regroup, he's got to fly out to Cyprus to visit Nathan Temple's hotel and start planning the launch. A launch which he doesn't want to do, but has to-because if he pulls out with some excuse, Nathan Temple might get offended. According to all the business press, it's looking likely that Nathan Temple's going to buy the Daily World newspaper. So as Luke said, he can't afford to antagonize him.

"Can I do anything?" I say nervously as I watch him put s.h.i.+rts into a suitcase.

"No," he says shortly. "Thanks."

This is how he's been all week. All quiet and scary and barely looking me in the eye. And when he does look me in the eye, he looks so fed up that I feel a bit sick.

I'm trying really hard to keep positive and look on the bright side. I mean, it's probably totally normal for couples to have blips like this. Just like Mum said. This is the Second Big Row of our marriage, and the air will clear again and everything will be fine. . . . Except I'm not sure the Second Big Row should come two days after the First Big Row. And I'm not sure it should last a whole week.

I tried e-mailing Mum on her cruise s.h.i.+p to ask her advice, but I got a message back saying that the Mind Body Spirit cruise was a retreat from the outside world, and no pa.s.sengers could be contacted until next Friday, when they dock in Athens.

Luke zips up his suit carrier and disappears into the bathroom without even looking at me. He'll be gone in a few minutes. We can't leave each other like this. We just can't.

He comes out again and dumps his shaving kit in his suitcase.

"It's our first anniversary soon, you know." I'd been hoping Luke and I could do something romantic, like a candlelight picnic. "We should . . . plan something."

"I'm not even sure if I'll be back in time," says Luke.

He sounds like he doesn't care, either. Our first anniversary and he's not even interested. Suddenly my head is hot and I can feel tears pus.h.i.+ng at my eyes. The whole week has been awful and now Luke's leaving and he won't even smile at me.

"You don't have to be so unfriendly, Luke," I say in a rush. "I know I've made a mess, but I didn't mean to. I've said I'm sorry about a zillion times."

"I know," says Luke in the same old weary tones.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"What do you expect me to do, Becky?" he retorts in sudden exasperation. "Say it doesn't matter? Say I don't mind that just when I should be putting all my efforts into the Arcodas Group, I find myself flying off to some G.o.dforsaken island?" He clicks his case shut. "You want me to say I'm happy to be a.s.sociated with some tacky hotel?"

"It won't be tacky!" I exclaim in dismay. "I'm sure it won't! Nathan Temple said it was going to be of the highest quality! You should have seen him in that shop in Milan, Luke. He would only accept the best! The best leather . . . the best cashmere . . ."

"And I'm sure he'll have the best water beds," Luke says with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "Becky, don't you understand? I have a few principles."

"So do I!" I say in shock. "I have principles! But that doesn't make me a sn.o.b!"

"I am not a sn.o.b," retorts Luke tightly. "I simply have standards."

"You are a sn.o.b!" My voice rushes out before I can stop it. "Just because he used to run motels! I've been looking up Nathan Temple on the Internet. He does loads for charity, he helps people. . . ."

"He also dislocated a man's jaw," Luke cuts in. "Did you read about that?"

For a few moments I'm halted.

"That was . . . years ago," I say at last. "He's made amends . . . he's reformed. . . ."

"Whatever, Becky." Luke sighs and picks up his briefcase. "Can we just leave it?"

He heads out of the room and I hurry after him.

"No. We can't leave it. We have to talk, Luke. You've barely looked at me all week."

"I've been busy." He reaches into his briefcase, takes out a foil strip of ibuprofen, and pops out a couple of tablets.

"No, you haven't." I bite my lip. "You've been punis.h.i.+ng me."

"Can you blame me?" Luke thrusts his hands through his hair. "This has been a h.e.l.l of a week."

"Then . . . let me help!" I say eagerly. I follow him into the kitchen, where he's running water into a gla.s.s. "There must be something I could do. I could do research-"

"Please!" Luke interrupts, and swigs down his ibuprofen. "No more help. All your 'help' does is waste my b.l.o.o.d.y time. OK?"

I stare at him, my face burning. He must have looked at my ideas in the pink folder. He must have thought they were total rubbish.

"Right," I say at last. "Well . . . I won't bother anymore."

"Please don't." He walks off into the study, and I can hear him opening desk drawers.

I want to say something else. Something witty and incisive which will prove him wrong. But I can't think of it.

As I'm standing there, the blood thumping round my head, I hear the sound of the letter box. I go into the hall, where a package is lying on the doormat. It's a slim Jiffy bag for Luke, with a smudged postmark. I pick it up and stare at the handwriting, written in black marker pen. It looks kind of familiar-except it's not.

"You've got a parcel," I say.

Luke comes out of the study, holding a pile of files, and dumps them in his briefcase. He takes the package from me, rips it open, and pulls out a compact disc, together with a letter.

"Ah!" he exclaims, sounding more pleased than he has all week. "Excellent."

"Who's it from?"

"Your sister," says Luke.

I feel like he's. .h.i.t me in the solar plexus.

My sister? Jess? My eyes drop down to the package in disbelief. That's Jess's handwriting?

"Why . . ." I'm trying to keep my voice calm. "Why is Jess writing to you?"

"She's edited that CD for us." He scans to the bottom of the page. "She really is a total star. She's better than our own IT guys. And you know, she wouldn't take any payment. I must send her some flowers."

His voice is all warm and appreciative, and his eyes are glowing. Suddenly there's a huge lump in my throat.

He thinks Jess is fab, doesn't he? Jess is fab . . . and I'm c.r.a.p.

"So Jess has been a help to you, has she?" I say, my voice trembling.

"Yes. To be honest, she has."

"I suppose you'd rather she was here than me. I suppose you'd rather we swapped places."

"Don't be ridiculous." Luke folds up the letter and pops it back in the Jiffy bag.

"If you think Jess is so great, why don't you just go and live with her?" I can't seem to control the words-they escape in an avalanche. "Why don't you just go and . . . and talk about computers together?"

"Becky, calm down," says Luke, clearly amazed.

But I can't calm down.

"It's OK! You can be honest! If you prefer a miserable skinflint with zero dress sense and zero sense of humor to me . . . just say so! Maybe you should marry her if she's so great! I'm sure you'd have a wonderful time together. . . ."

"Becky!" Luke cuts me off with a look which chills me to the marrow. "Just stop right there."

I don't dare move a muscle. I feel like we've plunged to some new, scary place in our relations.h.i.+p.

"I know you didn't get along with Jess," he says at last. "But you should know this. Your sister is a good person. She's honest, reliable, and hardworking. She spent hours on this for us." He taps the disc. "She volunteered to do it herself, and she didn't ask for any pay or any thanks. I would say she's a truly selfless person." He takes a few steps toward me, his expression unrelenting. "You could learn a lot from your sister."

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing will come out. I feel quite hollow with fear. Right now there's nothing in Luke's face to say he's my husband and he loves me.

"I have to go." Luke looks at his watch. "I'll get my stuff."

He strides out of the kitchen. But I can't move from the spot.

"I'm off." Luke reappears at the kitchen door holding his case. "I'm not sure when I'll be back."