To which I couldn’t really find a reply.

“She’s probably a very lonely woman,” Mum is musing. “Poor thing, all on her own. Living in her little flat. Does she have a cat to keep her company?”

“Mum…” I put a hand to my head. “Elinor doesn’t live in a ‘little flat.’ It’s a duplex on Park Avenue.”

“A duplex? What — like a maisonette?” Mum pulls a sympathetic little face. “Oh, but it’s not the same as a nice house, is it?”

Oh, I give up. There’s no point.


As we walk into the foyer at Claridges, it’s full of smart people having tea. Waiters in gray jackets are striding around with green and white striped teapots, and everyone’s chattering brightly and I can’t see Luke or Elinor anywhere. As I peer around, I’m seized by sudden hope. Maybe they’re not here. Maybe Elinor couldn’t make it! We can just go and have a nice cup of tea on our own! Thank God for—

“Becky?”

I swivel round — and my heart sinks. There they are, on a sofa in the corner. Luke’s wearing that radiant expression he gets whenever he sees his mother, and Elinor’s sitting on the edge of her seat in a houndstooth suit trimmed with fur. Her hair is a stiff lacquered helmet and her legs, encased in pale stockings, seem to have got even thinner. She looks up, apparently expressionless — but I can see from the flicker of her eyelids that she’s giving both Mum and Dad the Manhattan Onceover.

“Is that her?” whispers Mum in astonishment, as we give our coats in. “Goodness! She’s very… young!”

“No, she’s not,” I mutter. “She’s had a lot of help.”

Mum gazes at me incomprehendingly for a moment before the penny drops. “You mean… she’s had a face-lift?”

“Not just one. So keep off the subject, OK?”

We both stand waiting as Dad hands in his coat, and I can see Mum’s mind working, digesting this new piece of information, trying to fit it in somewhere.

“Poor woman,” she says suddenly. “It must be terrible, to feel so insecure. That’s living in America for you, I’m sure.”

As we approach the sofa, Elinor looks up and her mouth extends by three millimeters, which is her equivalent to a smile.

“Good afternoon, Rebecca. And felicitations on your engagement. Most unexpected.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Thanks very much!” I say, forcing a smile. “Elinor, I’d like to introduce my parents, Jane and Graham Bloomwood.”

“How do you do?” says Dad with a friendly smile, and holds out his hand. He looks so distinguished in his dark gray suit, I feel a twinge of pride. He’s actually very handsome, my dad, even though his hair is going a bit gray.

“Graham, don’t stand on ceremony!” exclaims Mum. “We’re going to be family now!” Before I can stop her she’s enveloping a startled Elinor in a hug. “We’re so pleased to meet you, Elinor! Luke’s told us all about you!” As she stands up again I see she’s rumpled Elinor’s collar, and can’t help giving a tiny giggle.

“Isn’t this nice?” Mum continues as she sits down. “Very grand!” She looks around, her eyes bright. “Now, what are we going to have? A nice cup of tea, or something stronger to celebrate?”

“Tea, I think,” says Elinor. “Luke…”

“I’ll go and sort it out,” says Luke, leaping to his feet.

I hate the way he behaves around his mother. Normally he’s so strong and assured. But with Elinor it’s as though she’s the president of some huge multinational and he’s some junior minion. He hasn’t even said hello to me yet.

“Now, Elinor,” says Mum. “I’ve brought you a little something. I saw them yesterday and I couldn’t resist!”

She pulls out a package wrapped in gold paper and hands it to Elinor. A little stiffly, Elinor takes off the paper — and pulls out a blue padded notebook, with the words “His Mum” emblazoned on the front in swirly silver writing. She stares at it as though Mum’s presented her with a dead rat.

“I’ve got a matching one!” says Mum triumphantly. She reaches in her bag and brings out an equivalent “Her Mum” notebook, in pink. “They’re called the Mums’ Planning Kit! There’s a space for us to write in our menus, guest l ists… color schemes… and here’s a plastic pocket for swatches, look… This way we can keep coordinated! And this is the ideas page… I’ve already jotted down a few thoughts, so if you want to contribute anything… or if there’s any particular food you like… The point is, we want you to be involved as much as possible.” She pats Elinor’s hand. “In fact, if you’d like to come and stay for a while, so we could really get to know each other…”

“My schedule is rather full, I’m afraid,” says Elinor with a wintry smile as Luke reappears, holding his mobile.

“The tea’s on its way. And… I’ve just had rather a nice phone call.” He looks around with a suppressed smile. “We’ve just landed NorthWest Bank as a client. We’re going to manage the launch of an entire new retail division. It’s going to be huge.”

“Luke!” I exclaim. “That’s wonderful!”

Luke’s been wooing NorthWest for absolutely ages, and last week he admitted he’d thought he’d lost them to another agency. So this is really fantastic.

“Well done, Luke,” says Dad.

“That’s brilliant, love!” chimes in Mum.

The only one who hasn’t said anything is Elinor. She’s not even paying attention, but looking in her Hermès bag.

“What do you think, Elinor?” I say deliberately. “It’s good news, isn’t it?”

“I hope this won’t interfere with your work for the foundation,” she says, and snaps her bag shut.

“It shouldn’t,” says Luke easily.

“Of course, Luke’s work for your foundation is voluntary,” I point out sweetly. “Whereas this is his business.”

“Indeed.” Elinor gives me a stony look. “Well, Luke, if you don’t have time—”

“Of course I’ve got time,” says Luke, shooting me a glance of annoyance. “It won’t be a problem.”

Great. Now they’re both pissed off with me.

Mum has been watching this exchange in slight bewilderment, and as the tea arrives her face clears in relief.

“Just what the doctor ordered!” she exclaims as a waiter places a teapot and silver cake stand on our table. “Elinor, shall I pour for you?”

“Have a scone,” says Dad heartily to Elinor. “And some clotted cream?”

“I don’t think so.” Elinor shrinks slightly as though cream particles might be floating through the air and invading her body. She takes a sip of tea, then looks at her watch. “I must go, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Mum looks up in surprise. “Already?”

“Luke, could you fetch the car?”

“Absolutely,” says Luke, draining his cup.

“What?” Now it’s my turn to stare. “Luke, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to drive my mother to the airport,” says Luke.

“Why? Why can’t she take a taxi?”

As the words come out of my mouth I realize I sound a bit rude — but honestly. This was supposed to be a nice family meeting. We’ve only been here about three seconds.

“There are some things I need to discuss with Luke,” says Elinor, picking up her handbag. “We can do so in the car.” She stands up and brushes an imaginary crumb off her lap. “So nice to meet you,” she says to Mum.

“You too!” exclaims Mum, leaping up in a last-ditch attempt at friendliness. “Lovely to meet you, Elinor! I’ll get your number from Becky and we can have some nice chats about what we’re going to wear! We don’t want to clash with each other, do we?”

“Indeed,” says Elinor, glancing at Mum’s shoes. “Good-bye, Rebecca.” Elinor nods at Dad. “Graham.”

“Good-bye, Elinor,” says Dad in an outwardly polite voice — but as I glance at him I can tell he’s not at all impressed. “See you later, Luke.” As they disappear through the doors, he looks at his watch. “Twelve minutes.”

“What do you mean?” says Mum.

“That’s how long she gave us.”

“Graham! I’m sure she didn’t mean…” Mum breaks off as she notices the blue “His Mum” book, still lying on the table amid the wrapping paper. “Elinor’s left her wedding planner behind!” she cries, grabbing it. “Becky, run after her.”

“Mum…” I take a deep breath. “I wouldn’t bother. I’m not sure she’s that interested.”

“I wouldn’t count on her for any help,” says Dad. He reaches for the clotted cream and piles a huge amount onto his scone.

“Oh.” Mum looks from my face to Dad’s — then slowly subsides into her seat, clutching the book. “Oh, I see.”

She takes a sip of tea, and I can see her struggling hard to think of something nice to say.

“Well… she probably just doesn’t want to interfere!” she says at last. “It’s completely understandable.”

But even she doesn’t look that convinced. God, I hate Elinor.

“Mum, let’s finish our tea,” I say. “And then why don’t we go to the sales?”

“Yes,” says Mum after a pause. “Yes, let’s do that! Now you mention it, I could do with some new gloves.” She takes a sip of tea and looks more cheerful. “And perhaps a nice bag.”

“We’ll have a lovely time,” I say, and squeeze her arm. “Just us.”



FRANTON, BINTON AND OGLEBY

Attorneys At Law

739 Third Avenue

Suit 503

New York, NY 10017


Miss Rebecca Bloomwood

251 W. 11th Street, Apt. B

New York, NY 10014


February 11, 2002


Dear Miss Bloomwood:

May we be the very first to congratulate you on your engagement to Mr. Luke Brandon, the report of which we saw in The New York Observer. This must be a very happy time for you, and we send you our wholehearted good wishes.

We are sure that at this time, you will be inundated with many unwanted, even tasteless offers. However, we offer a unique and personal service to which we would like to draw your attention.