Love Your Life - Sophie Kinsella Page 0,96

for the same organization and are obliged to be in contact. I do understand that. But I don’t see why Genevieve has to call quite so often.

For a “shadow from the past,” she’s pretty bloody present. It’s two weeks since the party, and since then she’s been on the phone every night. Matt talks in short, sharp monosyllables, but still the calls seem to go on forever. Whenever I query them (in a lighthearted manner), Matt says, “We’re doing a presentation together at the expo. We need to talk.”

And then he looks beleaguered. And putts his golf ball for hours on end—which I’ve realized is not about enjoyment at all. It’s stress relief.

Things are generally good, I keep reminding myself. The party was deemed a massive success—in fact, it went on till 2 A.M. and ended with everyone drunkenly swearing lifelong friendship. But I still feel tetchy. The more I watch Matt, the more I can see that Topher’s right: He’s stale. But I can also see how conflicted he is. Even I feel conflicted, and it’s not my family company.

I mean, it’s an amazing heritage. Whenever I see a Harriet’s House ad on the TV, I feel a vicarious flicker of pride. But at the same time, I can’t help resenting it. The day after our party, Matt had a closeted phone call with his parents, in which he told them he wasn’t going to Japan, and ever since then he’s been even less communicative than usual.

I haven’t said a word on the subject, because Matt’s been too preoccupied by the upcoming expo. But at last, thank God, Harriet’s World day has arrived. Matt’s event is at midday and we’re in a taxi on our way to the venue, and then it will be over. Genevieve won’t have an excuse to phone every night, and maybe Matt and I will sit down for a good talk. Meanwhile, I’m trying my hardest to keep an open mind. As our taxi drops us at the conference center, I notice a pair of girls walking toward us on the pavement, and I can’t help gaping.

“Look!” I nudge Matt. “They’ve dressed up as Harriet.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He glances up without interest as they approach. “They do that.”

Both girls have auburn wigs on, I notice as they get near. And turquoise shoes and dresses which they must have made themselves. How many hours did they devote to these outfits?

“Here’s your VIP pass.” Matt hands me a printed pass on a lanyard, and I stare at it, slightly astonished. I’ve never had a VIP pass in my life.

“VIP, huh?” I say. “You do treat me well.”

Matt laughs and gives me a kiss, which is interrupted by a voice saying, “Matt?” One of the girls has come to a halt nearby and is staring at Matt, bug-eyed. “Are you Matt Warwick?”

“Yes, I am.” Matt smiles at her, looking uncomfortable. “Welcome to Harriet’s World. Enjoy your day.”

“Is that Genevieve?” asks the other girl, pointing at me in excitement.

“No,” says the first girl. “They broke up. And Genevieve’s blond. Don’t you know anything?”

“So who’s that?”

“Dunno.” The first girl addresses me with an air of antagonism. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ava,” I say, bewildered.

“We have to go now, guys,” says Matt hurriedly. “Have a great day at Harriet’s World. Catch you later.”

“Wait, can I have a selfie?” says the first girl, and my jaw drops. A selfie? With Matt?

I watch as he poses awkwardly with each of the girls, then chivvies me into the conference hall through a side entrance. I’m already drawing breath to question Matt urgently, but as we step into the giant space, my queries melt away. Because…oh my God.

I’d pictured the expo, of course I had. But I hadn’t imagined the scale of it. Everywhere I look, there are life-size dollhouse-room sets. Or stalls piled high with merchandise. Or real-life Harriets walking around. It’s all a little creepy, if you ask me.

“This way,” says Matt, leading me briskly past the stands. But I can’t stop swiveling my head to look at all the attractions: little stages with entertainers already in full swing, and cotton-candy stations, and life-size toy ponies standing in a life-size toy stable.

“You make life-size toy ponies?” I say incredulously, and Matt glances at them as though he’d never noticed them before.

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, we put on this expo in a few locations around the world, so it’s cost-effective to produce them. I guess they’re popular….”

He’s so dispassionate, I almost want

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