Christmas Shopaholic - Sophie Kinsella Page 0,79

buttercream—and Luke says quickly, “I’ll take it out to the kitchen and have a proper look at it.” As he picks it up, he addresses the room: “Becky’s been making a wonderful costume for Minnie’s Nativity play. You should see it.”

I feel a swell of love for him, because he’s so obviously trying to make me feel better—and everyone at once follows his lead.

“Wow,” says Suze. “Awesome, Bex!”

“Well done, darling!” says Dad.

“Show us now!” suggests Suze, but I shake my head.

“I want to keep it a surprise. Um, I’ll just see to this cake….”

I hurry out to the kitchen, where I find Luke attacking the buttercream with a spatula.

“There is some cake in there,” he says, peering closely at it, “but not very much. Shall we dig it out and give it to the children?”

“I don’t know what went wrong,” I say dismally. “Has the cake dissolved into the buttercream?”

“Does cake dissolve into buttercream?” inquires Luke.

“I don’t know!” I say, as the doorbell rings. “Oh God, what now? You get the door and I’ll dig out the cake.”

I scoop out as much cake as I can find and arrange it in four splodges on plates. At least children don’t care about presentation. I plonk the plates on a tray, and I’m carrying it out into the hall when I hear a nasal voice it takes me a moment to recognize.

Oh my God. Is that Nadine?

I put the tray on the floor and hurry toward the front door, which is ajar. Luke and Nadine are on the doorstep, and Nadine is talking in a quick, urgent way, while Luke tries to chime in. As I step outside, he’s saying, “Nadine, I’m sorry. It’s not going to happen.”

“Just take this.” She brandishes a thick printed document at him, then shoots me an unfriendly look. “Oh, hi, Becky.”

She’s all dressed up in a suit, even though it’s the weekend, and her perfume is overpowering. This is all a bit weird.

“Hi!” I say cautiously. “What a surprise to see you!”

“Nadine came round to talk business,” says Luke, sounding strained. “But, as I’m trying to explain, I don’t see a future for us in any kind of partnership.”

“You haven’t given me a chance.” Nadine barely seems to be listening. “You can’t write me off. You can’t dismiss me.” Her voice is steady, but her chest is heaving, I notice.

“I’m not dismissing you,” says Luke at once. “Absolutely not. But—”

“It’s an opportunity for both of us,” she interrupts. “This is my only chance. You can’t just say no.”

“Well,” says Luke, after a tiny pause, “I can. And this is certainly not your only chance—”

“Read this.” Nadine tries to hand him the document again. “Read it. It’s different from the version you saw before. I listened to you. I’ve changed it. Already. See?” She turns to the second page and jabs at a paragraph with her immaculate pink nail. “This is what you said. Word for word. You said it wasn’t focused enough, not businesslike enough. This is businesslike—”

“Nadine, this isn’t businesslike!” Luke erupts, gesturing at her. “You can’t just come to people’s houses at the weekend with no warning! I told you I was happy to speak on the phone—”

“Brush me off, you mean.” She glares at him. “What was it you said? ‘Maybe after Christmas.’ ”

“I’m traveling before Christmas and I’ll be out of regular contact, as I explained,” says Luke evenly. “But I’m happy to talk in the new year and give you some pointers—”

“Oh, pointers.” She echoes the word so savagely, I feel an inward shiver. This woman is actually a bit loopy, and it’s Minnie’s birthday party and I don’t want to be listening to this.

“Nadine, we have to go,” I say. “We’re in the middle of something.” I glance at Luke, who nods.

“I’m still happy to talk to you by phone at an agreed time,” he says. “But now you need to leave.”

There’s silence, and I can see Nadine’s chest heaving harder than ever. She looks like she might pop out of her tight jacket. It would be funny if her eyes weren’t so hostile.

“Why do you think we rented that bloody cottage in the first place?” she bursts out savagely. “To meet you.”

“What?” I stare at her, staggered.

“What did you think? That we wanted to live in this back-of-nowhere shithole?”

“Excuse me!” I say indignantly, but Nadine’s on a roll.

“We were doing the ‘old boyfriends, old girlfriends’ chat. Craig tells me about some old girlfriend called Becky Bloomwood. It

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