Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 119

I’m feeling totally guilty. He’s being so nice about it. But what kind of hell have I put him through? And there he is, stuck on Cyprus… In a rush of emotion I clutch the phone more tightly to my ear.

“Luke… come home. I know you’re hating it out there. I know you’re miserable. And it’s all my fault. Just leave stupid Nathan Temple and his horrible hotel. Find some excuse. You can blame me.”

There’s a bit of a pause.

“Yesss,” says Luke. “There’s something I need to say about that. I think that quite possibly—” He breaks off again. “You were right. And I was… wrong.”

What? Did I hear that properly?

“I was prejudiced,” Luke says. “Now that I’ve gotten to know Nathan, he’s a very bright guy. Great commercial mind. We’re getting on well.”

“You’re getting on well? But… what about him having a conviction?”

“Ah,” says Luke, sounding sheepish. “Nathan explained about that. He was defending one of his motel staff from a drunken guest when it happened. He ‘went a little far,’ as he put it. He says it was a mistake. And I believe him.”

My head is throbbing. I can’t quite take all this in.

“In a lot of ways he’s a guy after my own heart,” Luke continues. “He told me the other night why he set up his motel chain. It was after he was refused entry to a smart hotel because he wasn’t wearing a tie. He went straight to a pub and sketched out a business plan for Value Motels. Had twenty up and running in a year. You have to admire that drive.”

“I don’t believe it,” I say, rubbing my forehead in a daze. “You like him.”

“I do like him.” Luke pauses. “And… he’s been tremendous over this whole affair. Couldn’t have been kinder. He stayed up all night with me, listening for news.”

I wince in guilt as I imagine the two of them in dressing gowns, waiting by the phone.

God, I am never, ever going to disappear again.

I mean, not that I was planning to. But, you know.

“What about the hotel?” I ask. “Is it tacky?”

“The hotel is supremely tacky,” Luke says, sounding cheerful. “But you were right. It’s top-quality tack.”

I can’t help a little giggle, which turns into an enormous yawn. I can really feel the drugs kicking in now.

“So… I was right all along,” I say, my voice bleary. “It was a brilliant networking coup.”

“It was a brilliant networking coup,” agrees Luke. “Becky… I’m sorry.” He suddenly sounds more serious. “For that and… a lot of things.” He hesitates. “I realize you’ve had it hard these last few weeks. I got too obsessed with the Arcodas deal. I haven’t supported you. And I didn’t appreciate what a crash it was for you, coming back to Britain.”

As his words filter into my brain they sound weirdly familiar.

Has he been talking to Jess?

Has Jess been… sticking up for me?

Suddenly I realize Luke is still talking.

“And another thing,” he’s saying. “I finally read through your pink folder on the plane. And I liked your idea. We should approach David Neville and see if he wants to sell.”

“You really liked my idea?” Through my stupor I feel a glow of delight.

“I really did. Although I have no idea where you’ve picked up all this specialist knowledge on business expansion—”

“At Barneys! I told you!” I sink contentedly into my pillows. “David’ll want to sell — I know he will. He’s really regretting having gone on his own. And they want another baby… ” I can hardly get the words out, I’m so tired. “And Judy says she just wants him to have a normal sara… salary…”

“Sweetheart, we’ll talk about it another time. You should rest.”

“All right.” My eyelids are getting really heavy now and it’s a struggle to keep them open.

“Let’s start over,” Luke says softly. “When I get back. No more tatters. OK?”

“What’s that?” a tart voice interrupts. It’s the head nurse, approaching. “Mobile phones are not allowed on the wards. And you need some sleep, young lady!”

“OK,” I quickly say into the phone. “OK.”

The nurse removes the phone from my fingers and my eyes crash shut.

When I open them again, everything is different. The room is dim. The chatter has gone. It must be nighttime.

I’m absolutely parched, and my lips are painfully dry. I remember there was a jug of water on my nightstand, and I’m trying to sit up and get it when I knock something onto the floor with a clatter.