down my thighs. It could easily be a dress. And ha! I’ve got a stretchy black headband in my makeup bag, which just about fits me as a belt.
“Very nice,” says Luke quizzically, watching me wriggle into it. “A little on the short side…”
“It’s a minidress,” I say firmly, and turn to look at my reflection. And… oh God, it is a bit short. But it’s too late to do anything about that now. I step into my clementine sandals and shake back my hair, not allowing myself to think about all the great outfits I had planned for this morning.
“Here,” says Luke. He reaches for my Denny and George scarf and winds it slowly round my neck. “Denny and George scarf, no knickers. Just the way I like it.”
“I’m going to wear knickers!” I say indignantly.
Which is true. I’ll wait till Luke’s gone, then pinch a pair of his boxer shorts.
“So — what’s your deal about?” I ask hurriedly, to change the subject. “Something exciting?”
“It’s… pretty big,” says Luke after a pause. He holds up a pair of silk ties. “Which one will bring me luck?”
“The red one,” I say after a little consideration. “It matches your eyes.”
“It matches my eyes?” Luke starts to laugh. “Do I look that rough?”
“It goes with your eyes. You know what I mean.”
“No, you were right first time,” says Luke, peering into the mirror. “It matches my eyes perfectly.” He glances at me. “You’d almost think I’d had no sleep last night.”
“No sleep?” I raise my eyebrows. “Before an important meeting? Surely that’s not the way Luke Brandon behaves.”
“Very irresponsible,” agrees Luke, putting the tie round his neck. “Must be thinking of someone else.”
I watch as he knots the tie with brisk, efficient movements. “So come on — tell me about this deal. Is it a big new client?”
But Luke smiles and shakes his head.
“Is it Nat West? I know, Lloyds Bank!”
“Let’s just say… it’s something I want very much,” Luke says eventually. “Something I’ve always wanted. But this is all very boring,” he adds in a different tone.
“No, it’s not!”
“Very dull indeed. Now — what are you going to do today? Will you be all right?” And now he sounds like he’s changing the subject.
Actually, I think Luke’s a bit sensitive about boring me with his work. Don’t get me wrong, I think his business is really fascinating. But there was this one occasion when it was really late at night, and he was telling me about a new range of technical products he was going to represent and I kind of… fell asleep.
I think he took it to heart, because recently he’s hardly talked about work at all.
“Have you heard the pool is closed this morning?” he says.
“I know,” I say, reaching for my blusher. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ll easily amuse myself.”
There’s silence and I look up to see Luke surveying me doubtfully.
“Would you like me to order you a taxi to take you to the shops? Bath is quite near here—”
“No,” I say indignantly. “I don’t want to go shopping!”
Which is true. When Suze found out how much those clementine sandals were, she got all worried that she hadn’t been strict enough with me, so I promised not to do any shopping this weekend. She made me cross my heart and swear on — well, on my clementine sandals, actually. And I’m going to make a real effort to keep to it.
I mean, I should be able to last forty-eight hours.
“I’m going to do all lovely rural things,” I say, snapping my blusher closed.
“Like…”
“Like look at the scenery… and maybe go to a farm and watch them milking the cows, or something…”
“I see.”
“What?” I say suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re just going to pitch up at a farm, are you, and ask if you can milk the cows?”
“I didn’t say I was going to milk the cows,” I say with dignity. “I said I was going to watch the cows. And anyway, I might not go to a farm, I might go and look at some local attractions.” I reach for a pile of leaflets on the dressing table. “Like… this tractor exhibition. Or… St. Winifred’s Convent with its famous Bevington Triptych.”
“A convent,” echoes Luke after a pause.
“Yes, a convent!” I give him an indignant look. “Why shouldn’t I visit a convent? I’m actually a very spiritual person.”
“I’m sure you are, my darling,” says Luke, giving me a quizzical look. “You might want to put on more than a T-shirt before you go…”
“It’s a dress!” I say indignantly, pulling the T-shirt down over my bum. “And anyway, spirituality has nothing to do with clothes. ‘Consider the lilies of the field.’ ” I shoot him a satisfied glance.
“Fair enough.” Luke grins. “Well, enjoy yourself.” He gives me a kiss. “And Becky, I really am sorry about all this. This wasn’t the way I wanted our first weekend away to be.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, and give him a little poke in the chest. “You just make sure this mysterious deal is worth it.”
And I’m expecting Luke to laugh, or at least smile — but he just gives me a tiny nod, picks up his briefcase, and heads for the door.
I don’t actually mind having this morning to myself, because I’ve always secretly wanted to see what it’s like inside a convent. I mean, I know I don’t exactly make it to church every week, but I do have a very spiritual side to me. It seems obvious to me that there’s a greater force out there at work than us mere mortals — which is why I always read my horoscope in The Daily World. Plus I love that plainchant they play in yoga classes, and all the lovely candles and incense. And Audrey Hepburn in The Nun’s Story.
In fact, to tell you the truth, a part of me has always been attracted to the simplicity of a nun’s life. No worries, no decisions, no having to work. Just lovely singing and walking around all day. I mean, wouldn’t that be great?
So when I’ve done my makeup and watched a bit of telly, I go down to reception — and after asking fruitlessly again about my package (honestly, I’m going to sue), I order a taxi to St. Winifred’s. As we trundle along the country lanes, I look out at all the lovely scenery, and find myself wondering what Luke’s deal can be about. What on earth is this mysterious “something he’s always wanted”? I mean, I would have thought he’s already got everything he wants. He’s the most successful publicist in the financial field, he’s got a thriving company, he’s won loads of prizes… So what could it be? Big new client? New offices? Expanding the company, maybe?
I screw up my face, trying to remember if I’ve overheard anything recently — then, with a jolt, I remember hearing him on the phone a few weeks ago. He was talking about an advertising agency, and even at the time, I wondered why.
Yes. It’s obvious, now that I think about it. He’s always secretly wanted to be an ad director. That’s what this deal is all about. He’s going to branch out from PR and start making adverts.
And I could be in them! Yes!
I’m so excited at this thought, I almost swallow my chewing gum. I can be in an ad! Oh, this is going to be so cool. Maybe I’ll be in one of those Bacardi ads where they’re all on a boat, laughing and water-skiing and having a great time. I mean, I know it’s usually fashion models, but I could easily be somewhere in the background. Or I could be the one driving the boat. It’ll be so fantastic. We’ll fly out to Barbados or somewhere, and it’ll be all hot and sunny and glamorous, with loads of free Bacardi, and we’ll stay in a really amazing hotel… I’ll have to buy a new bikini, of course… or maybe two… and some new flip-flops…
“St. Winifred’s,” says the taxi driver — and with a start I come to. I’m not in Barbados, am I? I’m in the middle of bloody nowhere, in Somerset.
We’ve stopped outside an old honey-colored building, and I peer through the window curiously. So this is a convent. It doesn’t look that special, actually — just like a school, or a big country house. And I’m wondering whether I should even bother getting out, when I see a nun. Walking past, in black robes, and a wimple, and everything! A real live nun, in her real habitat. And she’s completely natural. She hasn’t even looked at the taxi.
