Shopaholic To The Stars - Shopaholic to the Stars Part 15
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Shopaholic to the Stars Part 15

'You get clarity in your life from ringing a bell?' She snorts with laughter as she pings one of the bells.

'Yes!' I say defensively. 'You need to keep an open mind, Suze. It's like, a vibration thing. The chiming of the bell changes the rhythm of your inner ear, promoting understanding and resolution and ... er ...' Oh God, I've forgotten the rest. 'Anyway, they sound nice,' I finish lamely.

It was Bryce, the Personal Growth Leader, who explained to me about vibrations and clarity, during my induction session, and I totally understood at the time. I'll have to ask him to explain again.

There's a sudden violent clanging all around us. Suze's children have decided to have a go at bashing the bells. Ernest, who is my godson, is actually kick-boxing his, and it's nearly coming off its pillar.

'Stop!' Suze says, dragging them away. 'Too much clarity! Can we get a cup of-' She stops herself. 'A smoothie?'

Ha. She was going to say 'cup of tea'. I know she was.

'D'you want a cup of tea, Suze?' I say, to tease her. 'And a nice digestive biscuit?'

'No thanks,' she says at once. 'I'd far rather have a fresh juice. With a wheatgrass shot.'

'No you wouldn't.'

'I would,' she says obstinately.

She so wants a cup of tea. But I won't wind her up any more. She can have one when we get home. I've bought English tea bags especially, and Cooper's Oxford Marmalade and Branston Pickle.

I lead them all to the leisure area, where there's a cafe and a children's playground. Nearby some guys are playing volleyball and about a hundred yards away there's a t'ai chi class going on under the trees.

'How come they have a playground?' says Suze, as the children all run off to the swings and we sit down at a cafe table. 'They don't have children here, do they?'

'Oh no,' I say knowledgeably. 'But the residents often have their families to visit.'

'Residents?'

'You know. The burnt-out drug-addict rehab ones. They live over there.' I gesture at a gated enclosure within the resort. 'Apparently there's some major, major A-list star in residence at the moment. But no one will say who.'

'Damn!'

'I know.'

'Shall we walk past and casually peek?'

'I've tried,' I say regretfully. 'The security people shoo you away.'

'But there are other celebs here, aren't there?'

'Yes! Loads!' I'm about to elaborate when I notice a staff member walking nearby. 'But of course that's all really hush-hush so I can't tell you anything,' I add hastily.

Actually the truth is, I've only seen a couple of celebs in groups, and they weren't much to speak of. One was a Victoria's Secret model, and held up our entire self-esteem group by making us sign individual confidentiality agreements. Then she'd spelled her name wrong and we all had to change 'Brandie' to 'Brandee' and initial it. And then she didn't say anything remotely interesting, anyway. I mean, honestly.

'I'm going to have coffee with Sage Seymour,' I offer, and Suze wrinkles her brow, dissatisfied.

'Weren't you going to do that two weeks ago?'

'Yes, well, she's been busy ...' I break off as my eye catches a figure walking towards us.

'Oh my God,' I breathe. 'Tarquin looks terrible.'

'I know!' says Suze. 'Exactly! He could at least have worn jeans.'

But that's not what I meant. I'm not looking at his tweed shooting jacket, or his ancient brogues, or the mustard-coloured knitted tie around his neck. It's his face. He looks so wan. And there's a stooped slant to his shoulders which I don't remember.

Luke often gets hassled by his business, too, I find myself thinking. But it's different. He built his own company up himself. He drove it. He created it. Whereas Tarquin just had a massive empire plonked on his shoulders when his grandfather died. And right now it looks like it's too heavy for him.

'Tarkie!' I hurry forward to greet him. 'Welcome to Hollywood!'

'Oh. Ahm.' He raises a meagre little smile. 'Yes. Hollywood. Marvellous.'

'Tarkie, take off your shooting coat!' says Suze. 'You must be boiling. In fact, why not take your shirt off too?'

'Take my shirt off? In public?' Tarquin looks scandalized, and I hide a giggle. I'd better not take him to visit Venice Beach.

'Get some sun! It's good for you! Look, all those men there have taken their shirts off.' Suze points encouragingly to the volleyball players on the beach, who are mostly dressed in cutoffs and bandanas.

Suze can be quite bossy when she wants to, and within thirty seconds Tarkie has taken off his shooting coat, his tie, his shirt and his socks and shoes. To my amazement, he's quite tanned and muscled.

'Tarkie, have you been working out?' I say in astonishment.

'He's been helping with the fencing on the estate,' says Suze. 'You don't mind taking your shirt off for that, do you?'

'That's on my own land,' says Tarkie, as though it's obvious. 'Suze, darling, I think I'll put my shirt back on-'

'No! Now, put these on.' She hands him a pair of Ray-Bans. 'There! Brilliant.'

I'm just about to take pity on Tarquin and offer to get him some Earl Grey tea, when the volleyball bounces near us, and Suze leaps up to get it. A bronzed guy in cut-offs and a Golden Peace T-shirt comes running up, and as he draws near I see that it's Bryce.

He's quite amazing, Bryce. He's got the most piercing blue eyes you've ever seen, and he stares at you very intently before he says anything. I don't know how old he is his hair is greying but he's incredibly lithe and energetic. He doesn't seem to take any groups, but he wanders around and gets to know people and says things like 'Your journey begins here' and really seems to mean it.

'Rebecca.' His eyes crinkle into a smile. 'How's your day going?'

'Really well, thanks!' I beam at him. 'Bryce, these are my friends, Suze and Tarquin.'

'Here's your ball,' says Suze, handing it to him. She flicks her hair back a little self-consciously, and I can see her sucking in her stomach, not that she needs to.

'Thank you.' Bryce turns his dazzling smile on her. 'Welcome, both of you.' His eyes fall on Tarquin's shooting coat. 'Cool jacket.'

'Oh,' says Tarquin. 'Ahm. My shooting coat.'

'Shooting coat.' Bryce's eyes light up. 'Now that's a great idea. I guess it works in all weathers, right? And great pockets. May I?' Bryce picks up the coat and examines it admiringly.

'Useful for cartridges,' says Tarkie.

'You shoot on film?' Bryce glances up, interested. 'Old school, huh. Excuse me for asking, but ... do I know your work?'

I hear Suze give a sudden snuffle of laughter, just as I catch on myself. Bryce thinks Tarkie's a director. Tarkie! I cannot think of anyone in my life less likely to direct a film.

'My work?' Tarquin looks slightly hunted. 'You mean ... the work on Letherby Hall?'

'Letherby Hall.' Bryce frowns. 'I didn't see it, I'm afraid. Was it released worldwide?'

Tarquin seems totally baffled. I catch Suze's eye and try not to burst into giggles.

'Anyhow.' Bryce bounces the ball a couple of times. 'You want to join in?'

'Join in?'

'Volleyball.' He gestures at the guys waiting for him on the beach.

'Oh.' Tarquin looks taken aback. 'I don't think-'

'Go on!' says Suze. 'Go on, Tarkie. It's just what you need after the flight.'

Reluctantly, Tarquin gets to his feet and follows Bryce down on to the beach. A few moments later he's in the game, and hitting some pretty good shots, I notice.

'Tarkie's excellent at volleyball!' I exclaim.

'Oh yes, he's quite good at that kind of thing,' says Suze vaguely. 'He played Fives for Eton. That Bryce is something, isn't he?'

She's not even watching her own husband. Her eyes are fixed on Bryce. This is what he's like. Everyone gets a crush on him, male and female alike.

A waiter comes over and I order lots of different juices for us and the children, and I'm about to ask Suze what she wants to do first, like maybe the Walk of Fame or Rodeo Drive or the Hollywood sign ... when I notice someone out of the corner of my eye. A blonde someone, wandering down towards the beach in white yoga pants and a pink racing-back top.

'She's here,' I mutter, turning my head away swiftly. 'Don't look.'

'Who?' Suze immediately swivels her head all around. 'Someone famous?'

'No. Someone hideous in every way.'

Suze suddenly spots her and gasps, 'Alicia Bitch Long-legs!'

'Sssh!' I pull at Suze. 'Turn away. Don't engage. Aloof and flinty.'

'Right,' says Suze vaguely, without moving.

I related the whole awful Alicia encounter to Suze on the phone, but she was waxing her legs at the same time, and I'm not sure she was listening properly.

'She's lost weight,' says Suze critically. 'And her hair looks really good. I like her top ...'

'Stop complimenting her! And don't attract her attention.'

But it's too late. Alicia's heading our way. This isn't the first time I've seen her at Golden Peace, but it's the first time she's actually come over to speak to me. In Golden Peace terms, Alicia is virtually royalty. There's actually a great big picture of her and Wilton up in the lobby, and when the pair of them walked through the crowded cafe last week, everyone was practically bowing. Everyone except me.

'Suze.' Alicia doesn't even look at me, but greets Suze with her new soft voice, and I see Suze blink in surprise. 'It's been a long time.'

'Hi Alicia,' says Suze warily.

'You must be here visiting Rebecca. Are those your children?' She turns to look at Ernest, Wilfrid and Clementine, who are running raucously around the slide. 'They're stunning! And I love those cute little jackets.'

'Oh, thanks!' says Suze. She sounds disarmed, and I scowl inwardly. That's a typical underhand trick. Compliment the children.

'How long are you here?' adds Alicia.

'Not sure yet,' says Suze.

'Only, I was going to say, if you'd like them to go to school during your stay, I could fix it up. Our children go to a very good pre-school, don't they, Rebecca?' She manages to glance towards me without meeting my eye. 'And there's a private school nearby which might do for the older one. I should think he's quite advanced?'

'Well.' Suze blossoms. 'He is quite bright ...'

'I could have a word with the principals. It might be fun for them to experience a US education briefly. The semester's nearly over, but then there are great summer programmes.'

'Wow.' Suze seems taken aback. 'Well, that would be great. But are you sure-'

'It's no trouble.' Alicia gives her wafty smile again, then turns serious. 'Suze, I know our friendship hasn't always been straightforward.'

Friendship? They don't have a friendship.

'But I want you to know,' Alicia continues, 'that I'm set on remoulding that path, and I'm sorry for any discomfort I may have caused you in the past. Let's carry on life's journey in a different spirit.'

'Right.' Suze seems totally flummoxed. Meanwhile, I'm just staring, rigid with shock. She said sorry? She said sorry to Suze?

'I'll let you know about the schools.' Alicia smiles and touches Suze's shoulder, as though giving a blessing. She nods gravely to me, then moves off, down towards the beach.

'Oh my God.' Suze exhales when she's out of earshot. 'What's happened to her? That weird voice, and that smile ... and all that stuff about remoulding her life ...' She looks at me, giggling, but I can't join in.

'She said sorry to you,' I say incredulously.

'I know.' Suze looks chuffed. 'That was sweet, I thought. And it was nice of her to offer to help with the schools-'

'No!' I clutch my head. 'You don't understand! She refused to say sorry to me! After everything she did to Luke and me, she wouldn't apologize. I asked her to, straight out.'

'Well ...' Suze thinks for a moment. 'Maybe she was too embarrassed.'

'Embarrassed? Alicia Bitch Long-legs doesn't get embarrassed!'

'Maybe she thought she'd already apologized.'

'You're sticking up for her.' I stare at Suze in dismay. 'I can't believe you'd stick up for Alicia Bitch Long-legs.'

'I'm not sticking up for her!' ripostes Suze. 'I'm just saying, people change, and-' She breaks off as our drinks arrive, and the waitress presents us with two Golden Peace gift bags: glossy white with golden rope handles.

'Alicia asked me to give you these.' She smiles. 'A little welcome pack.'

'Ooh! Thank you!' says Suze, and starts unpacking hers straight away. 'Look, bath oil ... and a candle ...'