“They’re not rubbish!” I protest. “I might want to read them! Can’t they go in our bedroom?”
“It’s getting a little full….” Mum looks at the magazines and seems to make a snap decision. “I think we’ll have to give you the blue bedroom as well.”
“OK.” I nod. “Thanks, Mum.”
We didn’t give up the house without a fight. Luke phoned Fabia to plead with her, and so did I and so did the real estate agent. But they exchanged contracts with the other couple two days after Minnie was born. The only tiny silver lining was that I got my Archie Swann boot back, after I sent Fabia about five threatening e-mails. Otherwise there really would have been trouble.
“More shoes.” A delivery guy comes by, carrying a cardboard packing box. “That fitted wardrobe’s full, you know.”
“It’s all right!” says Mum briskly. “Start filling up the blue bedroom. I’ll show you….”
“How are you doing?” Luke comes by in his shirtsleeves, carrying my Pilates ball and two hatboxes.
“Fine.” I nod, watching a delivery guy carry in my vanity case. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
“It’s pretty weird.” He puts his arm round me and I nestle into his shoulder. Last night was even weirder, with all the furniture packed up in the van and just a big empty flat filled with boxes. At about four A.M., Minnie just wouldn’t sleep, so I wound up her mobile with the Brahms Lullaby and put her in the baby sling. Luke wrapped his arms round us both and we kind of danced around the room in the moonlight.
I never realized that song was a waltz before.
“Luke!” Dad approaches us, holding a pile of post. “You’ve got a letter.”
“Someone’s very efficient,” says Luke in surprise. “I haven’t given this address to many people….” He glances at the logo on the back. “Ah. It’s from Kenneth.”
“Great!” I feign enthusiasm and make a face at Minnie.
Luke rips open the envelope and scans the text. After a second he peers harder. “I don’t believe it,” he says slowly. At last he raises his head and stares at me in disbelief. “It’s about you.”
“Me?”
“There’s a duplicate letter in the post for you too. As Kenneth says, it’s quite a big matter, so he wanted to contact both of us.”
Oh, this is all I need. Letters of complaint from Kenneth.
“He hates me!” I say defensively. “It’s not my fault. All I said was that he was narrow-minded—”
“It’s not that.” Luke’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Becky…it looks like you beat me.”
“What?” I say in astonishment.
“One of your investments has done exceedingly well. I’m not sure Kenneth can quite cope with the news, to be honest.”
I knew it. I knew I’d win.
“What is it?” I demand in excitement. “What did well? It’s the Barbies, isn’t it? No, the Dior coat.”
“The Web site fabbesthandbags.com is going to be floated. You’ll make a stack.”
I seize the letter and run my eyes down it, taking in words here and there. Three thousand percent profit…extraordinary…unforeseen…
Ha-di-ha! I beat Luke!
“So, am I the most financially astute and clever person in this family?” I look up in triumph.
“Your Antiques of the Future are still a worthless pile of crap,” Luke says, but he’s grinning.
“So what? I still beat you! You’ve got lots of lovely money, darling!” I kiss Minnie on the forehead.
“When she’s twenty-one,” Luke puts in.
Honestly. Luke’s so boring. Who wants to wait till they’re twenty-one?
“We’ll see about that,” I murmur into her ear, pulling the blanket over her head so Luke doesn’t hear.
“Right!” Mum appears in the front door, holding a cup of tea. “That’s your bedroom pretty much full. But it’ll take an awful lot of sorting out and tidying, I’m afraid. It’s quite a mess.”
“No problem,” calls Luke. “Thanks, Jane!” Mum disappears inside again and he picks up the Pilates ball. “So, shall we make a start?”
I loathe sorting out. And tidying. How can I get out of this?
“Actually, you know, I thought I might take Minnie for a walk,” I say casually. “I think she needs some fresh air. She’s been stuck inside all day….”
“Good idea.” Luke nods. “I’ll see you later then.”
“See you later! Bye-bye, Daddy!” I wave Minnie’s tiny hand as Luke vanishes into the house.
I never realized it before, but having a baby is just the best excuse. For anything!
I put Minnie in her pram, all wrapped up cozily, and tuck Knotty next to her for company. I think Minnie’s quite fond of Knotty, actually. And Double-Knotty, which Jess gave her.
We’re using the old-fashioned gray pram I got at the baby fair, first of all because I got a bit carried away sending back all the other prams, and secondly because Mum reckons it’s the best one for supporting Minnie’s back, “not like these newfangled buggies.” I’m planning to get it sprayed hot pink as soon as I can — only it’s not that easy to find a custom pram paint-sprayer over the festive season.
I tuck her up in the gorgeous pink-and-white blanket that Luke’s parents gave her when they visited over Christmas. They were so sweet — they brought me a basket of muffins and invited us to stay (only, Devon’s a bit far) and said Minnie was the most beautiful baby they’d ever seen. Which shows what good taste they have. Unlike Elinor, who hasn’t even visited and just sent Minnie this hideous antique china doll with ringlets and spooky eyes, like something out of a horror film. I’m going to auction it on eBay and put the money in Minnie’s account.
I put on my new Marc Jacobs coat which Luke got me for Christmas and tie my Denny and George scarf round my neck. I’ve been wearing it all the time since I got out of hospital. Somehow I don’t feel like wearing any other scarf at the moment.
I always knew it would be a good investment.
There’s a little parade of shops quite near to Mum and Dad, and without quite meaning to, I head that way. Not because I’m planning to go shopping or anything. Just because it’s a nice walk.
As I reach the newsagents it’s all warm and bright and welcoming, and I find myself pushing the pram in. Minnie is fast asleep and I head toward the magazine rack. I could get a magazine for Mum — she’d like that. I’m just reaching for Good Housekeeping when my hand freezes. There’s Vogue.
A brand-new issue of Vogue. With a bright blue cover line shouting, London’s Yummiest Mummies-to-Be.
My hands fumbling in excitement, I pull it down, tear off the free travel supplement, and flick through the pages….
Oh my God! It’s a huge picture of me! I’m standing on the sweeping staircase in the Missoni dress, and the caption reads: “Rebecca Brandon, shopping guru and wife of the PR entrepreneur Luke Brandon, is expecting her first baby.”
Based in Maida Vale, the text below reads, former TV presenter Becky Brandon’s elegant style is obvious throughout her palatial six-bedroom house. She designed the stunning “his” and “hers” nurseries herself, with no expense spared. “Only the best will do for my baby,” she says. “We hand-sourced the furniture from a tribe of artisans living in Mongolia.”
I turn the page — and there’s another picture of me, beaming as I stand in the fairy-princess nursery, my hands resting on my bump. A big pull-out quote reads: “I have five prams. I don’t think that’s too many.”
Becky is planning a natural water birth with lotus flowers, and is under the care of It-obstetrician Venetia Carter. “Venetia and I are good friends,” enthuses Becky. “We have such a great bond. I might ask her to be a godmother.”
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