Shopaholic To The Stars - Shopaholic to the Stars Part 33
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Shopaholic to the Stars Part 33

There's a cluster of photographers outside my gates. I'm almost getting used to them. I check my reflection in my compact, then carefully slide out of the SUV. I zap open the gates with my remote control, and wave goodbye to Sage. The next minute, Minnie is running down the drive towards me. She's wearing her gorgeous little yellow dress and clutching a painting she must have just done. I've kept her off pre-school today, because she was complaining of earache this morning. (Although it could just have been that her Alice band was too tight.) 'Mummy!' She's brandishing the painting triumphantly at me as I sweep her into a hug. 'Schlowers!'

Minnie is obsessed with flowers at the moment, which she calls 'schlowers'. She weeps if Luke won't wear his one-and-only 'schlowers' tie, so he puts it on every morning and then takes it off again in the car. Her painting doesn't look very much like flowers to be honest, just big red splodges, but I gasp admiringly, and say, 'What beautiful red flowers!'

Minnie regards the red splodges stonily. 'Dat not de schlowers. Dat de schlowers.' She jabs her finger at a tiny blue stripe which I hadn't even noticed. 'Dat de schlowers.' Her brows are lowered and she's giving me an imperious frown. 'DAT DE SCHLOWERS!' she suddenly yells, sounding like a commandant ordering an execution.

'Right,' I say hastily. 'Silly me. Of course that's the schlowers. Lovely!'

'Is that your daughter?' To my surprise, Sage has got out of the SUV after me. 'I have to say hello. Too cute! Listen to her little British accent! Come here, sweetie.' She lifts Minnie up and swings her around till Minnie starts squealing with delight. The photographers are all clicking away so fast, it sounds like an insect infestation.

'Sage,' I say. 'We don't want Minnie to be photographed.'

But Sage doesn't hear me. She's running around the drive with Minnie, the two of them in fits of laughter.

'Pleeeeease!' Minnie is reaching out for the swirly Missoni sunglasses. 'Pleeeeease!'

'No, these are mine! But you can have some.' Sage rummages in her bag and produces another pair of sunglasses. She gives Minnie a kiss on the nose, then puts the sunglasses on her. 'Adorable!'

'Sage!' I try again. 'Stop it! I need to get Minnie inside!'

My phone suddenly bleeps with a text, and feeling hassled, I pull it out. It's from Mum.

Becky. Very urgent. Mum What? What's very urgent? I feel a spasm of alarm, mixed with frustration. What kind of message is 'Very urgent'? I speed-dial her number and wait impatiently for the connection.

'Mum!' I say as soon as she answers. 'What is it?'

'Oh, Becky.' Her voice is wobbling. 'It's Dad. He's gone!'

'Gone?' I say stupidly. 'What do you mean, gone?'

'He's gone to LA! He left a note! A note! After all these years of marriage, a note! I've been to Bicester Village with Janice for the day I got a lovely bag at the Cath Kidston outlet shop and when I came back he'd gone! To America!'

I stare at the phone, flabbergasted. 'But what I mean, where-'

'In the note, he said he needed to track down his friend. Brent Lewis? The one you looked up?'

Oh, for God's sake. Not this again.

'But why?'

'He didn't say!' Mum's voice rises hysterically. 'I have no idea who this friend is, even!'

There's a slight edge of panic to her voice, which I can understand. The thing about my Dad is, he seems like this very straight-down-the-line, normal family man. But there's a bit more to him than that. A few years ago we all discovered that he had another daughter my half-sister Jess about whom nobody had known a thing.

I mean, to be fair to Dad, he hadn't known either. It's not like he'd been keeping a massive secret. But I can see why Mum might be a bit paranoid.

'He said he had something he needed to "put right",' Mum is continuing. '"Put right"! What does that mean?'

'I don't know,' I say helplessly. 'Except he was very shocked when I told him Brent Lewis lives in a trailer.'

'Why shouldn't he live in a trailer?' Mum's voice is shrill again. 'What business is it of Dad's where this man lives?'

'He kept saying, "It shouldn't have happened,"' I say, remembering. 'But I have no idea what that meant.'

'I don't know what flight he's on, or where he's staying ... Do I follow him? Do I stay here? It's Becky,' I hear her saying in a muffled voice. 'The sherry's on the second shelf, Janice.' She returns to the line. 'Becky, I don't know what to do. Janice said it's his mid-life crisis, but I said, "Janice, we already had that with the guitar lessons. So what's this?"'

'Mum, calm down. It'll be fine.'

'He's bound to come to you, Becky. Keep an eye on him, love. Please.'

'I will. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything.'

I ring off and instantly start texting Dad.

Dad. Where are you? Call me!!! Becky xxx God, what a drama. What is Dad doing? I send the text and turn round, wondering why I can hear laughter. At once my heart plunges in horror.

Sage is posing for the cameras in an exaggerated starlet way, and Minnie is copying her perfectly. Her hand is on her hip, her head is cocked at an angle and she's tilting her shoulders back and forth, just like Sage. Everyone is roaring and the cameras are snapping.

'Stop!' I say furiously. I scoop Minnie up, and press her head against my chest, out of sight. 'Please don't use those pictures!' I say to the photographers. 'She's only a little girl.'

'Want do waving!' Minnie struggles to escape from my grasp. 'Want do WAVING!'

'No more waving, darling,' I say, kissing her head. 'I don't want you waving at those people.'

'Becky, relax!' says Sage. 'She better get used to it, right? Anyhow, she loves the limelight, don't you, cupcake?' She ruffles Minnie's hair. 'We need to get you an agent, munchkin. Aren't you launching your own family reality show, Becky?' she adds to me. 'That's what Aran said. Smart move.'

'I don't know,' I say, feeling harassed. 'I need to talk it over with Luke. Look, I'd better take Minnie inside.'

'Sure,' says Sage gaily. 'We'll talk soon, OK?'

As Sage disappears off in her SUV, I hurry into the house and shut the huge front door. My heart is thumping, and my thoughts are all confused. I don't know what to focus on first; my brain is skittering about so madly. Dad. Reality show. Minnie. Press. Sage. Lois. Dad.

I can't believe Dad is coming to LA. It's insane. Dad doesn't belong in LA, he belongs at home. In the garden. At his golf club.

'Bex!' Suze comes into the hall and eyes me in surprise. 'Are you OK?'

I realize I'm backed up against the front door as though I'm sheltering from attack.

'My dad's coming to LA.'

'Oh, brilliant!' Her face lights up. 'And your mum?'

'It's not brilliant. He's run off, and only left a note for Mum.'

'What?' She stares at me, incredulously. 'Your dad ran off?'

'There's something going on.' I shake my head. 'I don't know what. It's all to do with this trip he went on when he was much younger. He's trying to track down one of his friends from it.'

'What trip? Where did they go?'

'I dunno.' I shrug. 'Round California and Arizona. They had this map. They went to LA ... Las Vegas ... maybe Utah too. Death Valley!' I suddenly remember. 'I've seen pictures of them in Death Valley.'

I wish I'd listened a bit harder now. Every Christmas Dad used to tell me about his trip and pull out his old map, with the red dotted line showing where they'd been.

'Well, I expect he'll turn up,' says Suze reassuringly. 'He's probably just having a mid-life crisis.'

I shake my head. 'He's had that. He took guitar lessons.'

'Oh.' Suze thinks for a moment. 'Is there such a thing as a later-life crisis?'

'God knows. Probably.'

We head into the kitchen and I open the fridge to pour us each a glass of white wine. I don't care what time it is, I need it.

'Juice,' says Minnie at once. 'Juuuuuuice! Juuuuuuuice!'

'OK!' I say, and pour her a cup of Organic Carrot and Beetroot Juice Mix. They got her into it at the pre-school. It's the most revolting thing I've ever tasted, and it costs $10.99 for a tiny carton, but apparently it's 'detoxing and low sugar', so we've been asked to provide it instead of fruit juice. And the worst thing is, Minnie loves it. If I'm not careful, she's going to turn into some junior Juicing Nazi and I'll have to hide all my KitKats from her and pretend that chocolate oranges are macrobiotic.

'So, where's Tarkie?' I ask as I hand Minnie her juice.

'Do you have to ask?' Suze's jaw tightens. 'You know he's started going out at six a.m. every day for a Personal Validation session with Bryce? I barely see him any more.'

'Wow. What's Personal Validation?'

'I don't know!' Suze erupts. 'How would I know? I'm only his wife!'

'Have some wine,' I say hurriedly, and hand her a glass. 'I'm sure it's good for Tarkie to be doing all this. I mean, it's got to be positive, hasn't it? Personal validation? It's better than impersonal validation, anyway.'

'What is validation?' counters Suze.

'It's ... er ... being yourself. Kind of thing.' I try to sound knowledgeable. 'You have to let go. And ... be happy.'

'It's bollocks.' Suze's eyes flash at me.

'Well ... anyway. Cheers.' I lift my wine glass and take a swig.

Suze takes a massive gulp, then another, then exhales, seeming a bit calmer. 'So, how was the agent?' she asks, and my spirits instantly rise. At least something is going well.

'It was amazing!' I say. 'They said we need to plan my future carefully, and they'll help me juggle all my offers. And I need to hire security,' I add, importantly.

'Hire security?' Suze stares at me. 'You mean, like, a bodyguard?'

'Yes.' I try to sound casual. 'It makes sense now I'm famous.'

'You're not that famous.'

'Yes I am! Haven't you seen the photographers outside the gate?'

'They'll get bored soon enough. Honestly, Bex, you're only going to be famous for, like, five minutes. I wouldn't waste money on a bodyguard.'

'Five minutes?' I say, offended. 'Is that what you think? If you want to know, I've been offered a reality show. I'm going to be a global brand. This is only the beginning.'

'You're doing a reality show?' She seems gobsmacked. 'Has Luke agreed to that?'

'He ... well, it's under discussion,' I prevaricate.

'Does Luke know about the bodyguard?'

'He doesn't need to know!' I'm feeling more and more scratchy. At CAA, everything seemed so shiny and exciting, and now Suze is putting a damper on it all. 'I'm the celebrity, not Luke.'

'You're not a celebrity!' says Suze scoffingly.

'Yes I am!'

'Not a proper one. Not like Sage.'

'Yes I am!' I say furiously. 'They all said I was at CAA. Even Sage said so. And I need a bodyguard. In fact, I'm going to sort it out right now.' And I head out of the kitchen, full of indignation. I'll show Suze. I'm going to phone Aran's assistant and get the name of the top Hollywood security company and hire a bodyguard. I don't care what she thinks.

From: Blake@firstmovesecuritysolutions.com To: Brandon, Rebecca Subject: Your security requirements

Dear Rebecca It was good to talk to you earlier and I attach a link to our online brochure of our products and services. I'm sure we can provide you with the range of security solutions you will need in your new, high-profile position, whether this be in the form of personnel, or home security/surveillance equipment.

As regards the DF 4000 Deluxe X-ray body scanner we were discussing, please be assured, I have never known a case of a husband 'using it to track down shopping parcels hidden about his wife's person'.

I look forward to hearing from you and fulfilling your security needs.

Best wishes Blake Wilson Security Facilitation Vice-President

SIXTEEN.

It's fine. It's all good. We'll get used to this.

I'm sure every family finds it tricky at first, having a bodyguard.