Shopaholic to the Rescue

EIGHT

It’s the morning after. Whoever invented mornings after should basically be shot.

It’s quarter to nine and I’m sitting at a large circular table in the Bellagio restaurant, waiting for the others. My head is throbbing gently along with the background Muzak, and I feel a bit green. Which goes to show that room-service wine is just as potent as restaurant wine.

And so are room-service cocktails.

OK, OK. And room-service nightcaps.

It also didn’t help that Minnie woke us up at about three A.M., shrieking that her bed was “in the water.” It’s all the fault of those stupid gondolas. They should have health warnings.

I look up to see Luke returning to the table from the buffet, along with Minnie, who is clutching a bowl of cornflakes.

“Mummy, flakes!” she says, as though she’s discovered some rare delicacy. “I got flakes!”

“Amazing, darling! Yummy!” I turn to Luke. “She has the whole of the Bellagio buffet to choose from and she goes for cornflakes?”

“I tried to get her interested in the fresh shrimp-and-lobster platter,” says Luke with a grin. “Not so much.”

My stomach turns over at the sound of fresh shrimp and lobster. I mean, honestly, lobster for breakfast. What kind of madness is that?

“They have truffle omelets,” says Luke, as Minnie starts to munch her cornflakes.

“Great,” I say without enthusiasm.

“And there’s a chocolate fountain, and French toast, and—”

“Luke, stop,” I moan. “Don’t talk about food.”

“Are you suffering?” Luke grins.

“No,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply not very hungry.”

Maybe I should start the 5:2 diet, it occurs to me. Yes. And today could be the eat-nothing day.

A waiter comes to refresh my coffee cup, and I sip from it gingerly. A moment later a familiar sound catches my ear and I look up. Is that Mum’s voice? Oh my God, is that apparition Mum?

She’s standing at the greeter’s desk, her hair all messed up, her eyes smudged, and with some kind of glittery flower behind her ear.

“My daughter,” she’s saying. “My daughter, Becky. Can you find her, please? I really need a cup of coffee….” She clutches her disheveled hair. “Oh, my head…”

“Mum!” I wave frantically. “Over here!”

As Mum looks up, I can see that she’s wearing the same dress as last night. Has she not been to bed?

“Mum!” I exclaim again as I head across the restaurant to her. “Are you OK? Where have you been?”

“Wait,” she says. “Let me get the others. Girls! Here!”

She beckons to the restaurant entrance, and to my astonishment I see the figures of Elinor and Janice approaching. They’re walking arm in arm. No, they’re staggering.

Both look dreadful. Both are in the same clothes as last night. Janice is wearing a shiny sash which reads KARAOKE QUEEN, and Elinor has what look like burnt-out sparklers stuck into her hair.

Oh my God. I give a sudden snort of laughter and clap a hand over my mouth.

“So, it was a good night out?” I ask as they reach us. Janice looks up and murmurs weakly, “Oh, Becky love. Never let me drink Tia Maria again.”

“I am not well,” announces Elinor, who is white as a sheet. “My head…these symptoms…they are most alarming….” She closes her eyes, and I grab on to her to steady her.

“Did you get any sleep?” I look from face to face, feeling like I’m the parent. “Did you drink any water? Did you eat anything?”

“We dozed,” says Mum, after a moment’s thought. “At the Wynn, was it?”

“I am not at all well,” says Elinor again, her head drooping like a swan’s.

“You’ve got a hangover,” I say sympathetically. “Come and sit down. I’ll order some tea….”

As we move toward the table, Luke glances up from Minnie’s cornflakes and starts in horror. “Mother!” He leaps up. “Oh my God! Are you all right?”

“Don’t worry. She’s just got a hangover,” I say. “They all have. Elinor, have you ever had a hangover before?”

Elinor looks blank as I help her into a chair.

“Do you know what a hangover is?” I try again.

“I have heard the term,” she says, regaining some of her familiar snootiness.

“Well, welcome to your first ever hangover.” I pour her a large glass of water. “Drink this. Luke, do you have any Nurofen?”

For the next few minutes, Luke and I are the hangover doctors, as we administer cold fluids, cups of tea, and painkillers to Mum, Janice, and Elinor. I keep catching Luke’s eye and wanting to giggle, but Elinor looks so pained, I don’t like to.

“But you had a good time?” I say at last, when a little color has come back into her cheeks.

“I think so.” She looks baffled. “I barely remember.”

“That means you did,” says Luke.

“You guys!” Danny’s voice hails us and we all look around to see him approaching the table. He’s wearing a full-length sequined dress, and his face is made up with glittery purple eye shadow. I’m guessing he hasn’t been to bed either.

“Danny!” I exclaim. “What are you wearing?” But he ignores me.

“You guys!” he says again, and I realize he’s addressing Mum, Janice, and Elinor. “You rocked last night! They did karaoke at the Mandalay Bay,” he turns to me. “Your mom can do a mean ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ And Elinor! What a class act!”

“Elinor did karaoke?” I stare at him.

“No,” says Luke, sounding absolutely poleaxed.

“Oh, yes.” Danny grins. “ ‘Something Stupid.’ Duet with Janice.”

“No,” says Luke again, and we all turn to survey Elinor, whose head is drooping on the table again. Poor Elinor. The first time you get drunk is always horrendous, and this is obviously her first time.

“You’ll be OK,” I say, and stroke her back. “Hang in there, Elinor.” I’m just pouring her some more water when I see Suze and Alicia out of the corner of my eye. Needless to say, they don’t look one bit hungover. Alicia’s got that burnished healthy glow which all the Golden Peace staffers have. (It comes from the Golden Peace bronzing serum, by the way, not healthy living.) Suze’s blond hair is freshly washed and she’s wearing a white long-sleeved top, which gives her an angelic air. As they draw near, I get a waft of some fresh, breezy scent, as if they’re both wearing the same perfume, which maybe they are, because they’re such best, best friends.

“Hello, you two!” I say, compelling myself to sound polite. “Did you have a good evening?”

“We had an early night,” says Alicia. “And this morning we found a tai chi class.”

“Great!” I force a smile. “Lovely. Can I pour you some water? Have you seen Danny’s here?”

As the two sit down, Danny approaches from the buffet. He’s holding a plate piled high with lobster and grapes and nothing else.

“Suze! Darling.” He blows her a kiss. “I’m here for you. I mean, literally. I. Am here.” He points at himself. “For you. Just tell me what I can do.”

“Danny!” says Suze with a ferocious glare. “What the hell do you think you’ve been doing?”

“I flew here as soon as I could,” says Danny proudly. “My assistants and I are at your disposal. Tell me what we can do.”

“I’ll tell you what you can not do!” says Suze. She pulls out one of Danny’s fliers and brandishes it at him. “You can not plaster my husband’s face all over Las Vegas so I get a million people wanting to ‘hook up’ with him! Do you know the kind of calls and texts I’ve been getting?”

“No!” says Danny in delight. “What did they say?” Then he notices Suze’s expression and draws himself up defensively. “I was only trying to help, Suze. Excuse me for deploying my resources to aid you. Next time I won’t bother.”

I can see Suze quivering, trying to get a grip on herself, and after a few moments she says, “I’m sorry, Danny. I know you were trying to help. But honestly.”

“They’re great pictures, though, aren’t they?” says Danny, looking lovingly at Tarkie’s moody gaze.

“I hate them,” says Suze with fervor.

“I know, but they’re still great. You have to admit it, Suze. You’re an artist. You have an eye. Hey, I have a coat from my new collection that’s perfect for you. It has, like, this mammoth ruff neckline? Like Elizabeth the First? You would totally pull it off. Peace offering?”

No one can stay cross with Danny for long. I can see Suze unbending and rolling her eyes at him, and eventually she leans back with a huffing sigh and turns to Alicia. “Alicia, you’ve met Danny Kovitz, haven’t you?” she says. “Danny, Alicia Merrelle.”

“I remember you from Becky’s wedding,” says Danny blandly to Alicia. “You made quite the entrance.”

I can see a flash of something pass across Alicia’s face—anger? remorse?—but she doesn’t reply. Suze has poured out two glasses of water, and the two of them start sipping delicately.

“Where did you go last night?” says Danny to Suze, who shakes her head.

“We didn’t. We stayed in all night. Shall we go to the buffet, Alicia?”

As the two of them get up, Danny leans across the table to me.

“Well, that’s a lie,” he murmurs quietly.

“What’s a lie?”

“Alicia wasn’t in all evening. I saw her in the lobby of the Four Seasons, about midnight, talking to some guy.”

“You’re kidding!” I say, agog.

“You’re kidding!” mimics Minnie at once.

“What was she doing? And why would she lie about it?”

Danny shrugs and stuffs about six grapes into his mouth at once.

“I need ice water,” he says fretfully. “This water isn’t chill enough. Where’s Kasey?”

He starts to text, and I lean back in my chair, watching Alicia as she selects pieces of grapefruit. I knew she was up to something. What was she doing in the Four Seasons lobby at midnight? It sounds totally suspicious, if you ask me. I’m about to ask Danny for more details, when I suddenly notice that Elinor has fallen asleep on the table. Her face is squashed up and her hair is skewiff and I can hear a gentle snoring.

I am so tempted to take a selfie with her right now. But, no. That wouldn’t be the act of a kind, mature daughter-in-law.

“Elinor.” I shake her gently. “Elinor, wake up!”

“Huh?” She comes to with a start and rubs at her eyes while I watch in alarm, half-expecting flakes of skin to start falling off her face.

“Have some more water.” I hand her the glass and look at my watch. “Tarkie and Dad should be here soon.”

“If they come,” says Luke, who is tucking into bacon and eggs and feeding every other forkful to Minnie.

“ ‘If they come’?” I stare at him in dismay. “What do you mean? Of course they’ll come.”

“Kidding,” puts in Minnie emphatically. “You’re kidding.” She looks around proudly and pinches a strawberry off Mum’s plate. But Mum doesn’t even notice. She’s also staring at Luke in consternation.

“What makes you say that, Luke? Has Graham been in touch with you?”

“Of course not,” says Luke patiently as Suze sits down again. “But it’s ten past nine now. If this appointment was going to happen, I think they’d be on time. I just have a hunch about it.”

“A hunch?” says Mum suspiciously.

“What do you know?” demands Suze. “Luke, what aren’t you telling us?”

“Luke doesn’t know anything!” I say hurriedly. “And his instincts are usually wrong. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

But I’m lying, of course. Luke’s instincts are usually spot on. Why else has he done so well in business? He can read people and situations and think ahead of everyone else. And then, as we’re sitting there silently, sipping our drinks, my phone rings. I pull it out and see Dad on the screen, and my heart plummets.

“Dad!” I exclaim determinedly. “Great! Are you here? We’re sitting at the big circular table, next to the huge display of fruit.”

“Becky—” He stops, and there’s silence and I know, I just know.

“Dad, I’m passing you over to Mum,” I say in a kind of fierce, bright way. “Right now. You’re talking to Mum.”

I’m not being the messenger anymore. I can’t do it.

I hand the phone to Mum and furiously start cutting up a melon slice. My head is bowed over the plate, but I can hear Mum’s voice getting shriller and shriller:

“But we’re all sitting here, waiting! Graham, don’t you tell me not to worry….Well, then, tell me the truth….I think I’ll decide what’s important or not….Go back to L.A.?…No, I haven’t visited any vineyards….No, I don’t want to visit any vineyards….Stop talking about bloody vineyards!”

“Let me talk to him!” Suze keeps chiming in. “Is Tarkie there?” At last she wrests the phone off Mum and exclaims, “I need to talk to my husband!…Well, where is he?…What do you mean, a ‘walk’?” She’s practically snarling at the phone. “I need to speak to him!”

At last she switches the phone off and slaps it back down on the table. She’s breathing hard and her cheeks are pink. “If one more person tells me to relax…”

“I agree!” says Mum vociferously.

“How can I relax?”

“Vineyards! He wants me to go and visit the vineyards! I’ll give that Graham what for when I see him. He kept spouting nonsense, like, ‘This isn’t a big deal….I’ve only been away for a couple of days….What’s the problem?’ The problem is, he’s keeping secrets from me!” She bangs her cup down on the table. “There’s another woman. I know there is.”

“Mum!” I say, shocked. “No!”

“There is!” Tears rise in her eyes, and she dabs at them with a napkin. “That’s what he’s ‘putting right.’ Something to do with another woman.”

“No, he’s not!”

“Well, what else can it be?”

And there’s silence. The truth is, I have no idea what it can be.

—

We sit there for forty minutes longer, even though we know they’re not coming. It’s as though we’ve all been stunned into inaction.

Plus, you know, the buffet really is excellent. And my appetite has greatly recovered after a few cups of coffee. In fact, I’ve decided to switch from the 5:2 diet to the “get the most from your buffet because it’s costing you a fortune” diet.

Meanwhile, Elinor has revived and is deep in conversation with Danny. It turns out they know all the same society ladies in Manhattan, because Elinor goes to events with them and Danny sells dresses to them. Danny has even opened up his sketchbook and is drawing outfits for Elinor, while she watches over his shoulder.

“This would do for the opera,” he’s saying, as he shades the skirt with crosshatching. “Or gallery events, tea parties…”

“Not too much of a peplum,” says Elinor, regarding his sketch with a critical eye. “I do not wish to appear as a lampshade.”

“Elinor, I’ll give you exactly the right amount of peplum,” Danny retorts. “Trust me. I have the eye.”

“I have the money,” Elinor shoots back, and I stifle a snort. These two are a good match. Now Danny is drawing a sweeping coat with a massive funnel neck.

“This neckline is your friend,” he says to Elinor. “Higher in back, lower in front. It’s going to frame your face. It’s going to look unbelievable. And we’re going to edge it in faux fur.” He’s drawing in the fur, and Elinor is watching avidly. To be honest, I’m quite fascinated myself. Elinor would look amazing in that coat.

“I need a muffin to help me think,” Danny says, suddenly leaping to his feet. “I’ll be back in a moment, Elinor.”

As I head to the muffin stand alongside him, Danny looks delighted with himself.

“I’m basing a whole new collection around Elinor,” he tells me. “Danny Kovitz Classic. Like, a semi-couture line for the lady of silver years.”

“Silver dollars, more like,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Both.” He winks at me. “You know, Elinor has a very good sense of style.”

“Well, yes…Only, she’s a bit rigid.”

“I don’t find that,” says Danny complacently. “I find her very receptive to new ideas.”

“Well, obviously she’s hit it off with you,” I say, a bit jealously. I had been thinking of myself as Elinor’s fashion guru. I mean, I’m the one who got her into wrap dresses. But now Danny will take over and claim all the credit. “Anyway, enjoy. How much are you going to charge her for all this?”

“Oh, not more than the price of a small condo in Mexico,” murmurs Danny. “I already googled the one I want.”

“Danny!”

“I just need to sell her three more coats.”

“Danny!” I give him a push. “Don’t exploit my mother-in-law.”

“She’s exploiting me!” retorts Danny. “Do you know how much work this will all be? Hey, I might get myself a waffle.”

As he heads to the other side of the buffet, I wander over to the Italian-themed counter, and I’m just reaching for a cannolo when my phone rings. I pull it out and stare at the display in astonishment. It’s Tarquin. Why’s he phoning me? Did he get the wrong number?

“Hi!” I say breathlessly. “Oh my God, Tarkie, hi! I’ll just get Suze—”

“No!” says Tarquin. “I don’t want to talk to Suze.”

“But—”

“If you get her, Becky, I’ll ring off.”

He sounds so adamant, I gape at the phone.

“But, Tarkie…”

“I phoned to have a conversation with you, Becky. That’s why I dialed your number.”

“But I’m not your wife,” I say, feeling stupid.

“You’re my friend. Aren’t you?”

“Of course. Tarkie…” I rub my head, trying to collect my thoughts. “What’s happened to you?”

“Nothing’s happened to me.”

“But you’ve really changed. You sound fine. In L.A., we all thought—” I stop before I can say, we all thought you were losing it.

And I know that sounds extreme—but, honestly, Tarkie was in a mess. All he wanted to do was spend time with Bryce. All he could talk about was how Suze was sabotaging him. It was miserable.

“I was in a bad way in L.A.,” says Tarkie after a long pause. “It was…claustrophobic. That can make any relationship go in a strange direction.”

He must be talking about himself and Bryce.

“But surely things are even more claustrophobic now?” I say, puzzled. “I mean, now you’re with Bryce all the time, things won’t get any better—”

“I don’t mean Bryce! Why would I mean Bryce? I mean Suze!”

“Suze?”

I blink at the phone. Does he mean— He doesn’t mean—

“Tarkie?” I begin in slight dread. “What do you—”

“You must have seen us, Becky,” says Tarkie, his voice gruff. “You must have realized things weren’t good between Suze and me. Well, they hit a real low in L.A.”

“It was a stressy time for everyone,” I put in quickly.

“No, it was really bad for us.”

I feel a kind of knotting in my stomach. I’ve never had a conversation like this with Tarkie before. Suze and Tarkie have never gone wrong before. They can’t go wrong. I feel like the world isn’t right if Suze and Tarkie aren’t happy.

“You must have realized,” Tarkie repeats.

“I…well…” I stammer. “I knew you were spending a lot of time with Bryce, but—”

“Yes, and why do you think that was?” Tarkie sounds so forceful, I jump. “I’m sorry,” he backtracks immediately. “I didn’t mean to lose my cool like that.”

Tarkie is such a gentleman. I’ve barely ever heard him even snap before. My head is spinning with worry and distress, and all I can think is: Suze.

“Tarkie, you have to talk to Suze,” I say. “Please. She’s so worried about you, she’s in a total state—”

“I can’t talk to her,” Tarkie interrupts me. “Not right now. Becky, I can’t cope with her. She’s so irrational. She makes accusations, she jumps down my throat….I needed to get away. Your father is wonderful. He’s so balanced.”

“But Suze needs you!”

“I’ll be back. We’ll only be a few days.”

“She needs you now!”

“Well, maybe our marriage needs some time apart!” he practically shouts.

There’s nothing I can say to that. I just stand there, quivering in shock, trying to think of how to turn this conversation around to a better place.

“So…why did you phone?” I say finally.

“I think you should warn Alicia about Bryce. I’ve found out what he’s up to.”

“Oh wow.” My heart starts to beat faster. We’ve all known Bryce was up to no good—but what is it? A cult? A secret organization? Oh God, he’s not a terrorist, is he?

“Bryce has been trying to get money out of me for a while. He talked of his ‘cause,’ but he was secretive as to what exactly this ‘cause’ was.”

My heart lurches. A “cause.” Oh my God, it’s true. I stare at the phone in dread, imagining Bryce yelling instructions at a secret army of followers at a training camp in South America. Or hacking into Google, maybe.

“Now he’s finally revealed the truth,” Tarkie continues. “And his plan is…”

“Yes?” I prompt breathlessly.

“To set up a rival center to Golden Peace.”

“Oh,” I say, after a short silence. “Oh, right.”

I have to confess: I feel just a tad let down. I mean, obviously I’m glad Bryce isn’t a terrorist or cult leader…but still. A new business venture. Bor-ing.

“He’s been collecting a database of former clients of Golden Peace, many of whom were unhappy with their experience,” Tarquin is telling me. “He’s been working on it secretly. Alicia and her husband should watch out. Bryce is going to be extremely aggressive. I’m not the only person he’s targeting for money, so I’m sure he’ll succeed.”

“Oh,” I say again. “Well, I’ll tell Alicia.”

All my adrenaline has faded away. So Bryce is going into competition with Alicia. So what? I’m far more concerned with Tarkie and what he’s up to with my dad. And what’s going on with Tarkie and Suze. And what on earth I do now.

I’m in an impossible situation, I suddenly realize. If I warn Alicia about Bryce’s business venture, she’ll say, How did you find out? and I’ll have to admit I’ve spoken to Tarkie, and Suze will go mad.

“Tarkie, can’t you tell me what you’re up to with my dad?” The words tumble out. “Please?”

“Becky…” Tarkie hesitates. “Your father is a good man. And he’s very protective. He doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing. Personally, I can’t see why, but perhaps you should respect that.” I can hear a noise down the line, which sounds like a car engine starting. “I’m sorry, I have to go. But please don’t worry.”

“Tarkie, wait!” I cry, but the phone goes dead, and I stand stock still, digesting what I’ve just heard.

“Becky?” I look up to see Luke in front of me. “Who on earth was that? You look deathly.”

“It was Tarquin,” I say miserably. “Oh, Luke, I don’t think he’s having a nervous breakdown at all. He’s having a marital breakdown. He says he needs to spend some time away from Suze…things aren’t going well between them….” I gulp. “What do I say to Suze?”

“Nothing,” says Luke at once. “Do not get involved in their relationship. She’ll just transfer all her anger onto you.”

“He said she was…” I swallow. “Irrational.”

“Well,” says Luke drily. “I think Suze is going through a pretty odd phase. But if you tell her she’s irrational, your friendship will definitely be at an end.”

We’re silent for a moment. My stomach is churning, over and over. I hate this situation. I want someone to blame, but I’m not sure I can blame even Alicia for this.

“It’s all so horrible,” I say miserably.

“This is big stuff. It’s hard.” Luke wraps his arms around me tight and kisses my forehead. I sink into his embrace and breathe in his familiar scent: part aftershave, part laundered shirt, part Luke.

“Oh, and by the way, Bryce isn’t running a cult after all,” I tell him gloomily. “He’s trying to rip off Alicia. Tarkie wants me to warn her. But how can I? I can’t say, Guess what? Tarkie just rang me!”

“It’s awkward,” Luke agrees.

The idea suddenly hits me. “Luke, you tell Alicia. Say you heard it on the grapevine. Keep me out of it.”

“Oh no, no.” Luke shakes his head with a short laugh. “I’m not getting into this.”

“Please,” I wheedle. “Please, Luke.”

What’s the point of having a husband if he won’t cover your back once in a while? I mean, it’s practically in the vows.

There’s silence as Luke pours himself a grapefruit juice. Then he looks up with a sigh.

“OK, I’ll do it. But, Becky, you’re going to have to tell Suze sometime that you spoke to Tarquin. These things have a habit of coming out.”

“I know.” I nod fervently. “I will. But I can’t right now. She’ll murder me.”

“What else did he say?”

“Not a lot. My father’s a good man, apparently.”

“Well, we knew that.” Luke laughs at my expression. “Becky, cheer up. It’s good news, remember? A day ago we thought Tarquin had been kidnapped and left for dead.”

“Yes, but it’s all so complicated.” Dolefully, I select a pain au chocolat, an almond croissant, and a Danish whirl. I’ll put one in my bag for later, in case Minnie needs a snack. “And what do we do now? You know what I think? If Tarkie’s fine and Dad doesn’t want us to find him, I think we should just go home.”

“Right.” Luke nods thoughtfully. “Good point. Do you want to say that to your mother or shall I?”

—

OK, so that was a nonstarter. I should have realized Mum was never going to agree to go home in a million years. By the end of what you could call an “animated discussion” (the waitstaff had to ask us to keep it down), we’ve reached a compromise. We’ll go to see Dad’s other old friend, the one in Tucson. Raymond Earle. And if we can’t find anything out from him, we’ll go back to L.A. and wait for Dad to return.

Whereupon, no doubt, Dad will refuse to say what he was up to. And it will be one of the great unsolved puzzles of our time. And Mum will nearly expire in rage. But, as Luke keeps telling me, that’s not my problem.

We’re all up at the buffet again now, having a last go-round. I can’t believe I’m putting yet more food on my plate, but there’s just so much. Every time you think I’ve had everything, you turn a corner and see some huge pile of fresh waffles, or chicken skewers, or chocolate-covered strawberries, and a bit of your brain shouts, I’ve paid for this! I need to eat it! even while the other bit is moaning, I’m full! Take it awaaaay!

I pour a glass of milk for Minnie and glance over at Suze, who’s getting some juice on the other side of the counter. My whole body is tense with guilt. I’ve never had secrets from Suze before.

Well, except the odd tiny one, like that time I borrowed her Monsoon top and it wasn’t even hers and she only found out years later. But apart from that.

Alicia is taking some slivers of pineapple from a fruit display, and as I watch, Luke approaches her, his phone in his hand.

“Oh, Alicia,” he says, sounding casual. “Just heard a bit of gossip on the grapevine. Chap didn’t want me to let on who he was, but he has it on good authority that Bryce Perry is intending to set up a rival establishment to Golden Peace.”

“What?” Alicia’s cry of shock pierces the sound of buffet chatter.

“That’s what I heard. You might want to check it out.”

He sounds totally laid-back and hasn’t even glanced at me. God, I love Luke.

“So that’s what he’s up to?” Alicia’s eyes glitter. “That’s why he’s targeted Tarquin? For backing?”

“Could be.”

Alicia’s new-agey, Zen-like manner seems to be fading away, fast. She looks absolutely livid.

“Anyway.” Luke shrugs. “As I say, just a rumor, but you might want to investigate.”

“Yes. Yes. Thank you for the tip, Luke.” Already she’s heading over to Suze. “You’ll never guess what Luke just told me,” she begins, before lowering her voice discreetly.

“Really?” I can hear Suze saying in shock. “Oh my God.”

“I know. I know!” Alicia’s voice rises again in fury. “All this time, he’s been Wilton’s trusted right-hand man, and now he’s betraying us!”

“So that’s—” Suze stops herself dead and there’s a weird pause. Her eyes are distant, and I can’t work out what she’s thinking at all.

Alicia has pulled out her phone to start texting. “I don’t know what Wilton will say,” she mutters. “It’s taken years for him to build up such an amazing, blue-chip client list, and Bryce wants to steal it?”

I feel such a jolt of shock that I goggle at her. Hello? You want to talk about pinching clients?

Alicia, do you remember when you tried to steal all Luke’s clients? I want to call out. Do you remember when you tried to wreck everything he’d worked so hard for?

But there’s no point. I think she’s airbrushed that whole incident out of her memory.

As she’s texting away, Danny comes over to her and Suze, his plate piled high with bacon. I can see an evil gleam in his eye, and he shoots me a tiny wink before speaking.

“So I hear Bryce is going into competition with you!” he begins with great interest. “That’s a piece of news. Tell me, Alicia, is he going to charge any less than you? Because I have to tell you, Golden Peace is waaaay expensive.”

“I have no idea,” says Alicia stonily.

“I mean, I love a good mindfulness class as much as the next guy,” Danny continues airily. “But if Bryce opens a more reasonable alternative, then it’ll be a no-brainer. I mean, who doesn’t need to be price-conscious, right? Even movie stars. I’d think you would lose a lot of clients.”

“Danny!” says Suze sharply.

“Just being honest,” says Danny innocently. “So, Alicia, if Bryce opens up a rival center, will your empire collapse, do you think?” He blinks at her. “Will you have to get a job?”

“Danny, shut up!” says Suze furiously.

“Wilton and I will not let some employee undermine us,” snaps Alicia. “Who does this Bryce Perry think he is?”

He is very good-looking, I want to point out. And everyone does worship him. But I don’t say this, because I think she’d probably attack me with a fork.

“Come on, Alicia.” Suze glares at Danny again. “Let’s sit down.”

As I’m wondering whether to follow them or just hide out by the muffins, I see Elinor approaching. She seems a lot better, which is either down to the fruit salad she’s been nibbling or because of her impending custom-made Danny Kovitz Classic wardrobe (I still can’t wait to see her in that coat).

“Would you like a muffin?” I venture politely, and she shoots a disdainful look at them.

“I hardly think so.” She glances over at Suze and Alicia. “What was Luke saying about Wilton Merrelle?”

“One of his employees is planning to open a rival center and steal all his customers. Why? Do you know him?”

“He’s an atrocious man,” says Elinor crisply, and I try not to beam in delight. A bit of bitching about Wilton Merrelle is just what I’m in the mood for.

“Why?” I repeat encouragingly. “You can tell me. I’m really discreet.”

“He practically forced a friend of mine out of her Park Avenue condominium.”

“How did he do that?” I ask, agog.

“He bought the apartment next door and pestered and pestered. Poor Anne-Marie was quite beleaguered. She felt she had no choice but to sell to him.”

“Poor woman!” I say in sympathy. “So, what happened to her?”

“She was forced to spend more time on her estate in the Hamptons,” says Elinor, without blinking.

OK, Elinor needs to work on her sob stories a little. But even so, it feels cozy, sharing a common enemy with her.

“Well, Alicia’s just as bad as Wilton,” I say. “Worse.” I’m about to launch into a whole list of Alicia’s dastardly deeds, when I see Elinor picking up a grape on a cocktail stick and looking at it curiously.

“This is a particularly minimalist canapé,” she observes.

“It’s not a canapé, it’s for the chocolate fountain.” I point. “See?”

Elinor peers at the gushing chocolate as though she’s none the wiser. I take the grape from her, dip it in the chocolate, let it cool slightly, and hand it to her.

“Ah.” Her brow clears. “I am reminded of the fondues one sees in Gstaad.”

“You’ve never dipped anything in a chocolate fountain before?”

“Naturally not,” she confirms with a supercilious air.

I love it. First-ever hangover. First-ever chocolate fountain. What else is there in the list of Elinor Sherman’s firsts?

“Elinor,” I say in sudden inspiration. “Have you ever worn a pair of blue jeans before?”

“Never,” responds Elinor, looking slightly revolted.

That’s it. I have her Christmas present. Dark-blue skinnies by J Brand.

Unless…do I dare give her ripped jeans?

The thought of Elinor unwrapping a pair of ripped jeans on Christmas Day cheers me up so much, I’m still smiling as I return to the table. But I hastily stop as I see Suze’s pained expression.

“I have to get Tarkie away from Bryce,” she’s saying fervently. “He’ll be trying to fleece him for millions.”

“If not more,” says Alicia darkly, and jabs at her phone yet again.

“I mean, should we phone the police again?” Suze looks around the table for support. “Now we have this new information?”

“Tarkie told me yesterday that he wasn’t going to give Bryce any money,” I venture. “I think he’ll be strong. He’ll just say no.”

“Bex, you don’t know anything about it! Tarkie’s extremely vulnerable. He hasn’t called, he hasn’t texted…he was snappy with me in L.A….He’s not normal.”

Her blue eyes are blazing and I lean away on my chair. Suze can be quite scary when she’s on fire like this.

“Suze…” I begin cautiously. “I know Tarkie was a bit tense in L.A. I know he said some weird stuff. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he was being brainwashed. He might…well…”

I trail off feebly. I can’t exactly say, He might not want to talk to you right now.

“What do you know about it?” Suze bites back.

“I was just giving you my point of view.”

“Well, don’t! You’re constantly trying to undermine me. Isn’t she, Alicia?”

Suze’s eyes are glittering, and she looks so hostile, it’s as if something inside me snaps.

“You know what, Suze?” I cry out. “Why did you even ask me to come on this trip? In L.A. you said you needed me, so I dropped everything. I was glad to! But you don’t seem to want my companionship or my opinions or anything I have to offer. All you care about is Alicia. And, by the way, guess what, she’s been lying to you!”

I didn’t mean to blurt that out. But now that I have, I feel an almighty satisfaction.

“Lying?” Suze’s eyes darken in shock. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, lying! You told me you both stayed in all evening last night?”

“We did.” Suze glances uncertainly at Alicia.

“Alicia didn’t! Who were you meeting in the lobby of the Four Seasons at midnight, Alicia? And before you deny it, Danny saw you.” I throw this out with relish and sink back, folding my arms. At last. Alicia is totally exposed as a liar.

Except she doesn’t look exposed. She doesn’t blush, or seem embarrassed, or drop her glass with a clatter, or do any of the things I would do.

“I was meeting a private detective,” she says coldly.

A what?

“Naturally, I’ve been using my own resources.” She shoots me a withering look. “However, I didn’t want to let Suze know I’d drawn a blank, in case it discouraged her. So thanks, Becky, for ruining all my efforts.”

There’s a long and prickling silence around the table. My head’s all hot and fuzzy. I can’t believe Alicia’s come out on top again. What is she, a witch?

“Do you have anything to say, Becky?” Suze asks, and she sounds exactly like my headmistress did when I started the whole “bring your teacher a clothes item” craze (which I still think was a good idea).

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, staring down, exactly as I did back in Mrs. Brightling’s study.

“Right. Well.” Suze finishes her coffee. “I think we’d better move on.”