Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 68

“Bye, darling.” Luke kisses me. “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye. Bye, Venetia.” I can barely look her in the eye. I leave the room and head out to the foyer.

At the reception desk I can see an excited blond girl with the tiniest of bumps, saying, “I’m so thrilled to have a place with Venetia!”

Yes, you are now, I think savagely. Until she makes you look like a freak in front of your husband.

I’m nearly at the door, when a sudden recollection stops me. Luke’s mobile rang this morning while he was in the shower, and I answered it. Which was not because I am possessive and suspicious, but because…

Well, OK. I thought it might be Venetia. But it wasn’t; it was John from Brandon Communications and I never told Luke to ring him. I’d better let him know.

I retrace my steps through the waiting room, trying to ignore the curious stares of the blond girl and her husband. These bloody stockings are coming off as soon as I get outside.

A woman in a blue nurse-type uniform is ahead of me in the corridor, and as I’m shuffling along she pauses at Venetia’s door. She knocks twice, then opens the door.

“Oh, sorry!” I hear her say. “I didn’t mean to disturb…”

Disturb what? Disturb what?

My heart suddenly hammering, I hurry forward along the corridor, and just catch a glimpse through the doorway as the nurse retreats.

And I see them. Sitting together on the desk, talking in low, laughing voices. Venetia’s arm is resting casually across Luke’s shoulders. The other hand is entwined in his. They look happy and relaxed and intimate.

They look like a couple.

I don’t know how I get to the restaurant where I’m meeting Suze and Jess. I’m walking on autopilot, like a zombie. I want to throw up every time I think about it.

They were together. They were together.

“Bex?”

Somehow I’ve pushed my way in through the glass doors and am standing in a total daze as waiters bustle around and people chatter. “Bex, are you OK?” Suze is hurrying over to greet me. Her eyes drop in dismay to my white legs. “What are you wearing? What’s happened? Bex…can you speak?”

“I…no. I need to sit down.” I totter after her to a corner table where Jess is sitting.

“What’s happened?” Jess looks aghast at my appearance. She quickly pushes out a chair for me and helps me sit down. “Are you OK? Is it the baby?”

“I saw them,” I manage.

“Who?”

“Luke and Venetia. Together.”

“Together?” Suze claps a hand to her mouth. “Together, doing…what?”

“They were sitting on a desk, talking.” I can barely get the words out. “She had her arm on his shoulders. And he was holding her hand.” I look up for a reaction. Both Suze and Jess look like they’re waiting for more.

“Were they…kissing?” Suze ventures.

“No, they were laughing. They looked all happy. I just…I had to get out of there.” I take a deep gulp of water. Suze and Jess exchange glances.

“And…that’s why you put on white tights?” hazards Suze cautiously.

“No! Of course not!” I thrust down my glass, feeling the humiliation rise up again. “It was Venetia! She took away my shoes and my bag and she made me put these things on, just so I’d look all gross in front of Luke.”

Suze gasps. “What a cow!”

“And I can’t get them off.” I’m near tears by now. “I’m stuck with them!”

“Come on! I’ll help you!” Suze puts down her glass and reaches for one of the stockings. Jess is watching, her brow wrinkled.

“Becky…are you sure there isn’t some good health reason for wearing them?”

“No! She was just doing it to be mean! She said fashion’s bad for the health!”

Jess looks unmoved. “Fashion is bad for the health.”

“Fashion is not bad for the health!” I erupt. “It’s good for the health! It makes you…it makes you stay slim and stand up straight so your jacket hangs better. And take an interest in yourself so you don’t get all depressed.” I’m ticking the points off on my fingers. “And high heels are brilliant exercise for calf muscles….”

“Bex, have some wine,” says Suze soothingly, pushing her glass over. “Just a sip won’t hurt the baby. And it might…calm you down a bit.”

“OK. Thanks.” I take a grateful gulp.

“My obstetrician told me I could have a glass every other night,” adds Suze. “He’s French.”