“Now, I know all about your company,” she says. “Brandon Communications. It’s famous. Where you are, that’s where I want to be one day. Believe you me, you’re my inspiration.”
She’s leaning forward and gazing at Luke with clear blue eyes. And boosting her cleavage with one arm, I suddenly notice.
“Nadine’s doing really well with her marketing company,” says Craig. “She’s got a new client. Sportswear.” He gulps his wine and pats her arm proudly.
“I’d love to learn from you, Luke,” says Nadine breathily. “Anything you can teach me. How did you start out? What was it like at the beginning? You’re such a role model.”
Every time she speaks, she juts out her cleavage a bit more. Is she for real? I glance at Luke, wanting to catch his eye—but he seems captivated by Nadine.
“You don’t want to hear my long and tedious journey into business,” he says with a laugh.
“Oh, I do!” Nadine bats her eyelashes at him. “Believe you me, I want to know every detail. I can learn so much.”
“She does,” agrees Craig. “She’s been on at me! ‘Introduce me to Luke Brandon.’ You know, forget meeting Blink Rage. Not interested. She wants to meet you.”
“Well,” says Luke, looking amused. “I’m flattered. Do you want another glass of wine, Craig?”
“I’ll get them,” says Craig easily, getting to his feet. “You two have your chat. Becky, you OK?” He shoots me a fleeting glance.
“I’m fine!” I say with a bright smile. “I’m fine! All good!”
* * *
—
But it’s not all good. An hour later, my smile has frozen solid. This evening is the opposite of what I expected.
Luke and Nadine have been engrossed in boring, technical talk about marketing, which nobody else can join in with. Nadine has told Luke about a thousand times how he’s her inspiration, “believe you me, Luke.” (She says “believe you me” about every five minutes, and it’s driving me nuts.) But Luke doesn’t even seem to have noticed. He just seems delighted by the attention.
Meanwhile, Craig has ignored my attempts to make conversation. I’ve tried every topic, from music to Kiev (I did some research) to telling him about our brunch in Shoreditch. But each time, he’s broken off midstream to tell Luke what a hard worker Nadine is or how she’s a total tech expert and redesigned his whole website.
“Another drink, Luke?” says Nadine, seeing that his glass is empty, and he glances at his watch, then at me.
“We should probably get going,” I say, trying to sound regretful. “I told Suze we wouldn’t be long. It’s been fab to meet you, though.”
“Oh, you too, Becky!” says Nadine insincerely, then she looks at my spiky boots. “Don’t those kill your feet? I can’t do heels. I don’t do rock music and I don’t do heels over two inches. End of.” She gives Craig a satisfied look and he gazes at her admiringly.
“She knows what she wants, Nadine does,” he says with pride in his voice. “Always does.”
“Did you go to Warsaw for the weekend?” I can’t help asking her.
“Warsaw?” says Nadine, flicking her hair back. “No chance! I was working. Anyway, I don’t like Craig’s musician friends. Too grungy.” She wrinkles her nose. “And I’m not much of a traveler.”
OK, I do not get this relationship. She doesn’t like musicians or rock music or travel. What do they have in common? What?
“Well, see you!” I say, getting to my feet. “It was so nice to catch up, and welcome to Letherby….”
“You must come over,” says Craig, standing up too. “See the cottage. Try out the hot tub.”
“Ooh, the hot tub,” says Nadine, with a flash of enthusiasm. “Now, I do like that. I could stay in that all day. You like hot tubs, Luke?”
I stare at her suspiciously. She’s leaning very close to Luke. Does she think he’s deaf or something?
“I like a hot tub,” replies Luke without flickering, and my hackles instantly rise. I’m not even sure why. It’s the way he said “hot tub.” It sounded like “hot sex.”
“I love your mustache, Luke, by the way,” says Nadine huskily, gazing admiringly at it. “I’ve been meaning to say so all evening. Very Three Musketeers.”
“Oh!” Luke touches it self-consciously. “Well, you know. It’s just for charity.”
“You should keep it,” proclaims Nadine.
“I’ve thought about it,” says Luke, looking pleased.
“It so suits you,” Nadine gushes. “It’s perfect on you.”
What? No, it doesn’t! Shut up, Nadine, I think furiously. Luke’s mustache is nothing to do with you.
“Oh, Luke, before you go,” adds Nadine, “can I ask you one more thing? I’ve started this website for a client, and there’s something I’m not sure about….” She starts jabbing at her phone, and Luke follows her gaze while I start seething.
“Hey, Becky.” Craig’s voice comes gently in my ear. “Sorry we’ve been ignoring you.”
“Don’t be silly!” I say with a bright, automatic smile.
“We have.” He gives me a rueful look. “Sorry. Nadine’s been so excited to meet your husband, pick his brain, all that stuff. And I guess I’m chuffed that Luke gets on with Nadine, and you and I get on….We gel, the four of us. Yeah? And we live so close now. I think we could be really good mates. Don’t you?”
“Well,” I say, unbending slightly. “I suppose.”
“We want you two to come over.” Craig is only inches away, and his dark eyes are fixed on mine. “Hang out. Spend some time together. Relax. We’ll enjoy the hot tub and…whatever, yeah? Just the four of us, nice and private.” He puts a casual hand on my arm. “I’ll play you my latest songs. Sound good?”
Play us his latest songs? OK, that would be cool. As long as Nadine didn’t keep interrupting to talk about income revenue or whatever she keeps wittering on about.
“It sounds great,” I say honestly.
“There we are, then. Sorted. Nadine!” He lifts his voice. “Becky and Luke are going to come round to us one night!”
“Wonderful!” breathes Nadine. “I can’t wait to see you again. Oh, and you too, Becky,” she adds.
We all kiss goodbye and say how lovely it’s been—then Luke and I leave the pub. As we begin walking, Luke is silent, and yet again I can’t work out what he’s thinking.
“So!” I say after a bit. “What did you think? I’m sorry, I should have told you about Craig before—”
“No, it’s fine,” says Luke. “It’s fine. Nice girl,” he adds thoughtfully, and before I can stop them, my hackles rise again.
Nice girl? Or nice flirting?
But then I chide myself. I mustn’t be suspicious. If I can be friendly with Craig, Luke can be friendly with Nadine, even though her lips look like pillows. Exactly.
From: [email protected]
To: Becky Brandon
Subject: YOUR ORDER 7654
Dear Mrs. Brandon:
Re: YOUR ORDER 7654
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Quantity 6
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CHATS
You created group “CHRISTMAS!”
Christmas!
Becky
Hi, everyone! I’ve started a WhatsApp group to organize Christmas! Any ideas or requests, let me know! Becky xxx
Janice
Love, I meant to say at brunch, Christmas isn’t Christmas for us without Quality Street.
Martin
I like Matchmakers. The orange ones.
Suze
Tarkie loves the chocolates that look like shells—what are they called again?
Jess
I would like to request fair-trade chocolates only, or perhaps a healthier substitute such as carob.
Suze
Hey, Bex, there are chili-pepper fairy lights in Tesco. You should get those!
Janice
There are banana ones in Sainsbury’s.
Martin
What’s a banana got to do with Christmas????
Mum
Dad says, why not have an avocado theme? It’s very “now.” We’ve just bought avocado fairy lights for our gin-and-cactus social evening!!!!!
Janice
What’s a gin-and-cactus evening?
Mum
You drink gin and show your cactuses. Everyone does it in Shoreditch, love.
Janice
I’m sure they do all kinds of things in Shoreditch.
Jess
Fairy lights are problematic.
OK, so the Christmas WhatsApp group might have been a mistake.
I’ve had 134 notifications and we only began last night. I can’t nearly keep track of all the millions of suggestions everyone’s making. In about half an hour we went from best chocolates to best mince pies to best Christmas films to best version of A Christmas Carol.
(The Muppets, obviously. Dad doesn’t agree—but he can’t get over the fact that it’s Muppets, which he calls “puppets.” That was, like, ten messages right there.)
I keep telling myself to stay calm. I keep saying to myself, “Whatever the Grinch can steal, that’s not Christmas.” It’s all details. It’s white noise. It doesn’t matter what kind of mince pies we have, does it? Or brandy butter?