As I think this through, my numbness starts to melt away. Of course. He’s probably planning to tell me everything this evening. Waiting for the right moment. That’s probably why he brought me here in the first place. He couldn’t know that Alicia would stick her oar in, could he?
Feeling better already, I reach for a complimentary packet of biscuits, tear it open, and begin to munch one. It’s like they say, don’t run before you can walk. Don’t cross bridges before you come to them. Don’t do… that other thing you shouldn’t do.
I’ve just finished my third biscuit and have switched on the television to watch Ready Steady Cook, when the door opens and Luke comes in. His eyes are sparkling and he seems full of a suppressed energy. I stare at him, feeling a little weird.
I’m sure he’s going to tell me. He wouldn’t just move to America without saying anything.
“Did your meetings go well?” I say, my voice feeling false.
“Very well, thanks,” says Luke, taking off his tie and throwing it on the bed. “But let’s not talk about that.” He smiles at me. “Did you have a good day?”
“Fine, thanks!”
“You want to go for a walk? Come on. I haven’t seen you all day.” He reaches for my hand, pulls me up off the bed, and puts his arms round my waist. “I’ve missed you,” he says against my hair, and his arms tighten around my body.
“Have you?” I give a little laugh. “Well, you know… perhaps I should come to your meetings, and hear what they’re all about!”
“You wouldn’t enjoy them,” says Luke, returning my laugh. “Come on, let’s go out.”
We head down the stairs and out of the heavy front door and start walking over the grass toward a group of trees. The sun is still warm, and some people are playing croquet and drinking Pimms. After a while I take off my sandals and walk along barefoot, feeling myself relax.
“Are you hungry?” says Luke casually as we get near a large oak tree. And I’m about to reply, “No, I’ve just had three biscuits,” when I see it, waiting for us in the long grass.
A red-and-white checked picnic blanket. A little wicker hamper. And… is that a bottle of champagne? I turn toward Luke in disbelief.
“Is this… did you…”
“This,” says Luke, touching my cheek, “is in some small way to make up. You’ve been so incredibly understanding, Becky.”
“That’s all right,” I say awkwardly. “If it was for something as important as…” I hesitate. “As… well, whatever amazing opportunity this might be…”
I look at Luke expectantly. This is the perfect moment for him to tell me.
“Even so,” says Luke. He moves away and reaches for the champagne bottle and I sit down, trying not to give away my disappointment.
I’m not going to ask him. If he wants to tell me he can. If he doesn’t want to… then he must have his reasons.
But there’s no harm in prompting him, is there?
“I love the countryside!” I exclaim as Luke hands me my champagne. “And I love cities, too.” I gesture vaguely in the air. “London… Paris…”
“Cheers,” says Luke, raising his glass.
“Cheers.” I take a sip of champagne and think quickly. “So… um… you’ve never really told me much about your family.”
Luke looks up, a bit surprised.
“Haven’t I? Well, there’s me and my sister… and Mum and Dad…”
“And your real mother, of course.” Casual, Becky. Casual. “I’ve always thought she sounds really interesting.”
“She’s a truly inspiring person,” says Luke, his face lighting up. “So elegant… you’ve seen the picture of her?”
“She looks beautiful,” I nod encouragingly. “And where is it she lives again?” I wrinkle my brow as though I can’t quite remember.
“New York,” says Luke, and takes a swig of his drink.
There’s a taut silence. Luke stares ahead, frowning slightly, and I watch him, my heart thumping. Then he turns to me, and I feel a spasm of fright. What’s he going to say? Is he going to tell me he’s moving thousands of miles away?
“Becky?”
“Yes?” I say, my voice half-strangled by nerves.
“I really think you and my mother would love each other. Next time she’s in London, I’ll be sure to introduce you.”
“Oh… right,” I say. “That would be really great.” And morosely, I drain my glass.
ENDWICH BANK
Fulham Branch
3 Fulham Road
London SW6 9JH
Ms. Rebecca Bloomwood
Flat 2
4 Burney Rd.
London SW6 8FD
8 September 2000
Dear Ms. Bloomwood:
Thank you for your letter of 4 September, addressed to Sweetie Smeathie, in which you ask him to rush through an extension of your overdraft “before the new guy arrives.”
I am the new guy.
I am currently reviewing all customer files and will be in touch regarding your request.
Yours sincerely,
John Gavin
Overdraft Facilities Director
Five
WE ARRIVE BACK in London the next day — and Luke still hasn’t mentioned his deal or New York, or anything. And I know I should just ask him outright. I should casually say, “So what’s this I hear about New York, Luke?” and wait and see what he says. But somehow I can’t bring myself to do it.
I mean, for a start, he’s made it plain enough that he doesn’t want to talk about it. If I confront him, he might think I’ve been trying to find out stuff behind his back. And for another start, Alicia might have got it wrong — or even be making it up. (She’s quite capable of it, believe me. When I was a financial journalist she once sent me to the completely wrong room for a press conference — and I’m sure it was deliberate.) So until I’m absolutely certain of my facts, there’s no point saying anything.
At least, this is what I tell myself. But I suppose if I’m really honest, the reason is that I just can’t bear the idea of Luke turning to me and giving me a kind look and saying, “Rebecca, we’ve had a lot of fun, but…”
So I end up saying nothing and smiling a lot — even though inside, I feel more and more miserable. As we
