Shopaholic to the Stars

EIGHTEEN

They weren’t interested in any of my notes. They didn’t even have any clothes in the studio. We didn’t talk about fashion at all. I’m sitting in the limo, numb with shock, driving away from the studios with Aran. How did that happen?

At first it all seemed perfect. The limo arrived at 6 a.m., and Jeff ‘secured’ it, while I posed for pictures taken by Lon and all his friends, who were yelling ‘Becky! Beckeeee!’ I was wearing my exclusive Danny Kovitz dress with a little shrug over it, and I felt just like a top-notch celebrity. Then we whizzed off to the studios, and I had my make-up done next to Ebony-Jane Graham, who is totally famous if you watch weight-loss programmes.

The host was called Marie and she was very smiley with enormous pearls. (And also a fairly enormous bottom, only you don’t see that as she sits on the sofa the whole time.) I was all set to start filming at 7.20, and I was dying of excitement, except my one niggle was: where were the clothes? When I asked the assistant producer, she just looked at me blankly and said, ‘You’re on to talk about Lois, right?’ There wasn’t time to protest because she bustled me on to the set, where I found not just Marie, but a kleptomania expert called Dr Dee.

Even then, I didn’t realize. I kept thinking, ‘They’ll ask me about styling soon. Maybe the clothes are on-screen. Maybe some models will appear, wearing the latest outfits.’

I was so stupid. The segment started, and Marie read out an introduction all about Lois and Sage, and then she turned to me and said, ‘So, Becky. Let’s go back to basics.’

‘Absolutely!’

I beamed at her, and was about to explain that this season’s trends are all about clean lines and playful accessories, when she continued, ‘You were actually in the shop when Lois – for whatever reason, and we’ll go into that later with Dr Dee – shoplifted some items. Could you relive that moment for us?’

I stumbled through some awkward account of seeing Lois take the socks, and then she asked me about the awards, and then she turned to Dr Dee and said, ‘So, Dr Dee. Why does an A-list movie star like Lois Kellerton turn to crime?’

And that was it. My part was over. Dr Dee talked endlessly about self-esteem and childhood issues, blah blah (I tuned out), and then the segment was finished. Not one fashion reference. Not one mention of me being a stylist. They didn’t even ask me who the diamanté clutch bag was by.

‘So.’ Aran looks up from his phone and smiles his Hollywood smile. ‘That went well.’

‘Went well?’ I echo in disbelief. ‘It was awful! I thought I was going to be styling clothes! I made all these notes, and I was all prepared, and it was supposed to launch me as a stylist …’

‘OK.’ Aran looks at me blankly, then shrugs. ‘But it was great exposure. We’ll build up to the styling thing.’

Build up to it?

‘You said it would be a styling segment,’ I say as politely as I can. ‘That’s what you told me.’

I don’t want to be a diva. I know Aran’s really helping me and everything. But he did promise styling. He did promise clothes.

‘Sure.’ He’s got that blank look again, as though he’s already tuned out what I just said. ‘So, we’ll work on that. Now, I have a couple of new offers, one of which is huge. Huge.’

‘Really?’ I can’t help feeling hopeful.

‘You see? I told you you’d be the queen of the moment. The first thing is a nice invitation to the Big Top premiere tomorrow. They want you to do the red carpet.’

‘Do the red carpet?’ I feel a sudden glittery excitement. ‘Like … do interviews?’

‘Sure. I think you should do it.’

‘Of course I’ll do it!’ I say in elation. ‘I can’t wait!’

I’m going to do the red carpet at a premiere! Me! Becky! In my own right! ‘What’s the other thing?’

‘This is shit-hot, totally confidential.’ He nods at his phone. ‘I should not even be sharing this with you.’

‘Really?’ I feel fresh sparks of excitement. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s reality. But it’s a whole new breed of reality.’

‘Right.’ I feel a bit hesitant at the word ‘reality’, but I’m not going to give that away. ‘Cool!’ I say determinedly. ‘That sounds fab!’

‘What it is—’ He interrupts himself. ‘OK, it’s not for the squeamish. But you’re not squeamish, are you, Becky?’

‘No! Definitely not!’

Oh God. Please don’t say he wants me to go on a show where you have to eat bugs. I can’t eat a worm. I can’t.

‘I didn’t think you were.’ He flashes that smile at me again. ‘What this show is about is aesthetic improvement. The working title is Even More Beautiful. Each celebrity will have a mentor in the form of another celebrity, and that mentor will carefully guide a process of aesthetic alteration. The American public will follow each process and vote on the result. Obviously medical professionals are on hand to consult at all times,’ he adds blithely.

I blink at him, not sure if I heard right.

‘Aesthetic alteration?’ I say at last. ‘You mean, plastic surgery?’

‘It’s a pioneering show.’ Aran nods. ‘Super-exciting, huh?’

‘Yes!’ I say automatically, although I can’t quite get my head around this. ‘So … I’d decide what kind of plastic surgery some celebrity has and then it gets voted on? But what if I get it wrong?’

Aran is shaking his head.

‘We see you as one of the celebrity participants who would undergo the journey. You would be assigned a celebrity mentor who would aim to make you the most beautiful swan. Not that you’re not already a swan,’ he adds charmingly. ‘But everyone can do with a little improvement, right?’ He twinkles. ‘The surgery alone would be worth thousands, together with the fee and the prime-time exposure … like I said, it’s a great opportunity.’

My head is spinning. He can’t be serious.

‘You want me to have plastic surgery?’ I falter.

‘Believe me, this is going to be the biggest TV show ever to hit our planet,’ says Aran confidently. ‘When I tell you who’s already signed up …’ He winks. ‘Let’s just say, you will be in stellar company.’

‘I’ll … I’ll think about it.’

I stare out of the window, feeling dazed. Plastic surgery? Luke would be absolutely— Oh God. I can’t even tell Luke about this. There’s no way I’m doing it.

‘Aran.’ I turn back. ‘Listen. I don’t think … I mean, I know it’s a great opportunity and everything—’

‘Sure. You think it’s grotesque. You’re shocked I even asked.’ Aran twinkles again. He opens a box of gum and offers me some and I shake my head. ‘Becky, you want a shortcut to fame? This is your quickest route.’

‘But—’

‘I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just giving you the information. Think of me as your GPS. There are slow routes and there are quick routes to fame. Appearing on this show would be a super-fast route.’ He tips three pellets of gum into his mouth. ‘Now, if you don’t like the look of the super-fast route, that’s another story.’

He’s so matter-of-fact. He’s so detached. As I survey his smooth, immaculate face, I feel more confused than ever.

‘You said I was hot already. You said my profile had gone through the roof. So why do I need to do a reality show?’

‘Becky, you don’t do anything,’ Aran says bluntly. ‘You’re not on a TV show. You’re not dating a celebrity. If Lois pleads guilty there won’t even be a court case. If you want to stay out there, you need to be out there.’

‘I want to be out there, styling.’

‘Well then, style.’ He shrugs. ‘But that is not the super-fast route, I can tell you.’

The car pulls up in my drive and he leans over to kiss me lightly on each cheek. ‘Ciao, ciao.’

I get out, followed by Jeff, and the car drives off, but I don’t approach the house. I go and sit on a low wall, thinking hard and chewing my lip. I let my thoughts simmer down into a decision, then determinedly pull out my phone and jab in a number.

‘Becky?’ comes Sage’s sleepy voice down the phone. ‘Is that you?’

‘Listen, Sage, are you going to the Big Top premiere tomorrow? Only I’d love to put an outfit together for you. Remember, you said you wanted me to style you? Remember we were talking about it?’

‘Oh.’ Sage yawns. ‘Sure.’

‘So … are you going to the premiere? Can I dress you?’

I’m crossing my fingers tightly. Please say yes, please say yes …

‘I guess so.’

‘Great!’ I exhale in relief. ‘Fantastic! Well, I’ll put some looks together. I’ll call you later.’

As I head into the house, my spirits are higher. So what if the interview today wasn’t brilliant? I’ve taken charge. I’m styling Sage Seymour. I’m doing the red carpet. Everything’s coming together!

I can hear Luke in the kitchen, and my stomach gives a twinge of apprehension. I haven’t spoken properly to Luke since yesterday. He came to bed after I’d fallen asleep, and I left him dozing when I got up for the TV show. So we haven’t seen each other since our row.

No, not row. Discussion.

‘Why don’t you sit there for now,’ I say to Jeff, and point to one of the big chairs in the hall. ‘I guess Mitchell’s patrolling the garden.’

‘You got it,’ says Jeff, in that expressionless way he has, and settles his huge frame down on the chair. I take a deep breath, then saunter into the kitchen, humming, like someone who’s totally OK with everything, and didn’t have a tense moment with their husband last night.

‘Hi!’ My voice is a little too high-pitched.

‘Hi.’ Luke looks up from some document in a plastic binder. ‘How was the interview?’

‘It was … good. How’s things with you?’

‘How’s things?’ Luke gives a short, humourless laugh. ‘To be honest, things have been better.’

‘Really?’ I look at him in alarm. ‘What’s up?’

‘I thought that wretched Sage was up to something and now, sure enough, I discover that she is.’

‘Oh really?’ I say, my heart pumping a little faster. ‘Um, what?’

‘Both of them. Sage and Lois.’ He glances at the door. ‘Shut that, will you? I don’t want your goons hearing.’

I do as he says, my mind working quickly. What’s he found out? How did he find out?

‘They staged the whole thing. The whole feud, the stealing, the row at the awards … Fake. The whole lot of it.’

‘No!’ I exclaim, trying my best to sound shocked. ‘You’re joking!’

‘Aran discovered it last night. We’re meeting later on. Obviously this goes no further—’ He breaks off and his dark eyes suddenly narrow. ‘Wait a minute. Becky?’

‘Er … yes?’ I falter. He comes right up near and eyes me closely. I can feel my cheekbones quivering under his scrutiny. And my lips. I think my hair is shaking, too.

‘Becky?’ he says again, and I feel a horrible sense of foreboding.

Oh God. The thing about Luke is, he knows me really, really well. How am I ever supposed to keep anything from him?

‘You knew?’ he says at last. ‘You knew about this?’ He seems so scandalized that I gulp inwardly.

‘Kind of. I mean, I only found out yesterday afternoon.’

‘And you didn’t tell me? Even when I asked you directly?’

‘I couldn’t! I mean, Sage said … I promised her …’

I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t just look angry, he looks hurt. And weary. He looks like he’s had enough, I think with a lurch. But enough of what? Of Hollywood? Of me?

‘Don’t worry, I get it,’ he says, sounding tired. ‘You rate your loyalty to Sage above your loyalty to me. That’s fine. I know where I stand.’

‘No!’ I say in dismay. ‘That’s not … I just …’ Again I trail off, twisting my fingers miserably. I can’t find the words. Maybe there aren’t any words, except the ones I don’t want to say because he’ll think I’m shallow, which I’m not.

Well, OK, maybe I am. A little bit. But then, everyone in Hollywood is shallow. I mean, compared to lots of people here, I’m deep. I’m profound! Doesn’t he realize that?

‘They’ve been really clever,’ I say at last. ‘You have to admit that. Lois thought up the whole thing. No one has any idea.’

‘I think you’ll find they’ve been less clever than you think,’ says Luke dryly. ‘When this gets out, neither the press nor the public will be very impressed.’

‘Maybe it won’t get out.’

Even as I’m saying it, I know I’m being naive. Everything gets out.

‘It’ll get out. And then I think they’ll both have even more trouble finding the kind of work they want.’ Luke shakes his head. ‘Becky, I have to tell you, I won’t be working with Sage any longer than I have to. I’ll wrap up our work properly, stay professional – but it’s over. There’s no point my advising someone who’s going to ignore everything I say. I’ve never met anyone so unprincipled, so capricious, so stupid … And I’d advise you not to get too mixed up with her either. She won’t do you any favours.’

‘Yes she will!’ I say, hotly. ‘She’s my friend! She’s my—’

‘Your passport to fame and fortune. I get it.’

‘It’s not “fame and fortune”,’ I say, over-defensively. ‘It’s my work. It’s my career. I’m styling her for a premiere. It’s my big chance! Aran says—’

‘Aran doesn’t love you.’ He cuts me off again, this time so fiercely that I take a step back in shock. ‘I do. I love you, Becky. I love you.’

His eyes are only inches away from mine. And as I gaze into their dark depths, it’s as though I can see our whole life together. I can see Minnie being born. Our wedding at my parents’ house. Luke whirling me on the dance floor in New York. My Denny and George scarf.

I don’t know what he can see in my eyes, but he’s gazing just like me, unblinking, as though he’s trying to drink me in.

‘I love you,’ he says again, more quietly. ‘And I don’t know what’s gone wrong here, but …’

I feel suddenly close to tears, which is just stupid.

‘Nothing’s gone wrong,’ I say, gulping. ‘Nothing.’

‘OK. Well.’ He shrugs and moves away. There’s a flat silence which seems to weigh on my shoulders. I can’t bear it. Why doesn’t he understand?

Then Luke turns, and there’s a new animation in his face.

‘Becky, listen. I have to go back to London for a few days. It’s the Treasury stuff I told you about. I’m flying tomorrow. Why don’t you come? We could pull Minnie out of pre-school, spend some time together, regroup, talk things over, have breakfast at the Wolseley …’

I feel a little pang. He knows breakfast at the Wolseley is one of my favourite things in the world. ‘If your mother would have Minnie for the night, we could even take a room at the Ritz,’ he adds, his eyes twinkling. ‘How about that?’

The Ritz is where we spent our first ever night together. It’s a fabulous idea. I have a sudden vision of us waking up in some beautiful, luxurious bed, all relaxed and content, as though none of these arguments had ever happened. Luke has put his hands on my shoulders. He gently pulls me towards him and his hands travel down my back.

‘Maybe we could make that little sibling for Minnie,’ he says, in that soft growly voice that normally makes me go weak. ‘So, shall I book three tickets for tomorrow?’

‘Luke …’ I gaze up at him, agonized. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. It’s this premiere, and I’ve said I’ll dress Sage, and it’s my—’

‘I know.’ Luke exhales sharply. ‘Your big chance.’ I can see him making a supreme effort to stay good-natured. ‘OK, another time.’ He steps away and my skin feels cold where he’s let go of it. I wish he’d hold me again. I wish the premiere wasn’t tomorrow. I wish …

Oh God, I don’t know what I wish.

‘Anyway, there’s my father to think about,’ I point out, relieved to have another reason to grab on to. ‘I can’t just leave him with no warning.’

‘Fair enough.’ Luke has retreated into his detached, everyday mood. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you. Your mother called me. She asked what’s going on. Apparently you didn’t ring her back yesterday?’

I feel another guilty twinge. My mum’s left so many messages on my phone, I can’t keep track of them any more.

‘I’ll call her. She’s just stressing about my dad. She can’t stop.’

‘Well, she’s got a point,’ says Luke dryly. ‘What’s up with your father? Why is he here, anyway? Have you got to the bottom of it?’

‘Not yet,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.’

‘You haven’t had a chance?’ says Luke incredulously. ‘He’s staying with us, for God’s sake!’

‘I’ve been really busy!’ I say, stung. ‘I had my filming this morning, and I had to prepare for it, and I’ve got to put together some looks for Sage now … I’ve been frantic. And it doesn’t help that he went out with Tarquin and got drunk! They made no sense at all when they got in last night.’

‘Well, I’d talk to him when you have a chance.’

‘I will. I’m totally planning to. Is he here?’

Luke shakes his head. ‘I haven’t seen him. Or Tarkie. They must have gone out.’ He glances at his watch. ‘I must get some things ready. See you later.’ He kisses me briefly and heads out. I slump into a chair, feeling totally and utterly deflated.

So far, today has been pretty much the opposite of what I hoped. I thought I’d do an amazing TV interview. I thought I’d arrive back from the studios in clouds of glory. I thought Luke would be waiting, proud and beaming, maybe toasting me with champagne. My phone bleeps with a text and I reach for it despondently. It’s probably Luke saying, And by the way, your outfit looked crap, too.

But it’s not from Luke. It’s from Elinor.

I sit bolt upright, my heart suddenly beating fast. Elinor. I open the text and read the message:

Dear Rebecca, I have arrived in Los Angeles.

Oh my God. She’s here? Already?

A moment later, a whole load more text appears:

I look forward to my meeting with Luke and I trust you have prepared the ground with him. Perhaps you could contact me at your earliest convenience. I am staying at the Biltmore. Kind regards, Elinor Sherman.

That’s so Elinor. She writes texts as though she’s using a quill pen on parchment.

I read the message through a few more times, trying not to panic. It’s fine. It’s all fine. I can handle this. In fact, this is good timing. This could be the answer to everything. Luke and I need to clear the air; Luke and Elinor need to clear the air; everyone needs to clear the air. We need one big honest, cathartic session, and then everyone will be a lot happier.

Maybe this will even bring me and Luke together. He’ll realize that I do care about more than being on the red carpet. He’ll realize that, all this time, I’ve been thinking about his welfare and happiness. And then he’ll be sorry for calling me shallow. (OK, maybe he didn’t actually call me shallow. But he thought it, I know he did.)

I haven’t prepared any ground with Luke, but how can I? If I mention Elinor’s name he just shuts down. The best thing is just to get them in the same room and lock the door. That’s what you do with interventions: you take people by surprise.

What I have done is write a letter. Because that’s the other thing you do with interventions. You write down all the ways in which the individual is hurting you by their behaviour, and you read it out and they say, ‘My God, now I understand,’ and immediately give up alcohol/drugs/rifts with family members. (Well, that’s the idea.)

I’ll buy some candles and some calming room spray, and … what else? Maybe we should all chant first. I did a brilliant chanting class at Golden Peace, except I never quite learned what words we were supposed to be saying. So I usually just chanted ‘Pra-daaaaa …’ over and over. No one seemed to notice.

And maybe I should coach Elinor. Because if she arrives and gives Luke that icy look and says, ‘You need a haircut,’ then we might as well not bother.

I consider for a moment, then type a reply:

Dear Elinor, I will be glad to meet you later today. Perhaps we could have tea together before seeing Luke in the evening. Shall we say 3 p.m.?

I’ve sent it before I realize that I have no idea where to have tea in LA. In London it’s easy. You can’t move for teapots and silver tiered plate stands and scones with cream slathered on them. But in LA?

I think for a second then text Aran:

Do you know the best place to have afternoon tea in LA?

Immediately his reply pings back:

Sure. The Purple Tea Room. Latest place. Always booked up. Shall I get you a reservation?

After a few more texts it’s all set up. I’m meeting Elinor at 3 p.m. and we’ll talk everything through. And then she’ll come here to see Luke at 7 p.m., and I guess we’ll take it from there.

The trouble with Luke is, he’s so stubborn. He’s decided he hates his mother and that’s it. But if he only knew. If he’d only give her a chance. Elinor may have done all kinds of terrible things when he was growing up, but while we were planning his birthday party I saw how much she regrets it. I saw how much she wants to make amends. I even saw how much she loves him, in her own chilly, Vulcan weirdo way. And the thing is, she won’t live for ever, will she? Does Luke really want to be estranged from his own flesh and blood?

As I’m gazing through the kitchen window, Suze’s car turns into the drive, and I watch her park carefully under a tree. Thank God. Suze will help me. I haven’t seen Suze properly for ages, I realize. I’ve missed her. What’s she been up to? Where was she last night?

I’m about to yell ‘Suze!’ out of the kitchen window when, to my surprise, the front passenger door opens and two long legs in capri leggings emerge, followed by a sinewy body and unmistakable blonde hair.

I stare, discomfited. It’s Alicia. What’s Suze doing with Alicia?

Suze is just in jeans and a black top, but as usual, Alicia is wearing an amazing yoga outfit. There are slits in the side of her orange top and I can see her tanned, lean torso. Urgh. She’s such a show-off. The two are talking earnestly. Then to my horror, Suze leans forward and gives Alicia a big hug. Alicia is patting her back and seems to be talking soothingly. I feel outraged at the sight. In fact, I almost feel sick. Suze and Alicia Bitch Long-legs? Hugging each other? How can she?

Suze turns and heads towards the house, and a moment later I hear her key in the lock.

‘Suze!’ I call, and I hear her turn her footsteps towards the kitchen.

‘Oh, hi.’ She stands in the doorway, but doesn’t rush up or smile, or anything normal. She looks strained. She’s clutching on to the door frame and I can see the tendons in her hand standing out.

‘How was the TV?’ she says, as though she really couldn’t care less. ‘Are you even more famous now?’

‘It was fine. Suze, where on earth have you been? Were you out last night with Alicia?’

‘Yes I was – but why do you care?’ she says, with a taut little smile. ‘If you’re lonely, why not hang out with Sage? Or you must have some celebrity event you should be at, surely?’

‘Don’t be like that!’ I say, feeling hurt. ‘I need you. Guess what’s happened. Elinor’s arrived, and I’ve got to stage my intervention, and I’m not nearly ready, and—’

‘Bex, I really don’t care.’ Suze cuts me off roughly. ‘I have other things to worry about. In fact, I’m just here to pick up a couple of things and then I have to go.’ She turns on her heel and I hurry after her.

‘Where are you going?’ I demand, following her up the stairs.

‘To Golden Peace.’

‘Is that why you’re with Alicia?’ I try not to let myself sound resentful, but I can’t help it. ‘I saw you with her. I saw her hugging you.’

‘I expect you did.’

‘You were hugging Alicia Bitch Long-legs? On purpose?’

‘That’s right.’ Again, Suze couldn’t sound less interested. She grabs a jacket and puts it in her tote bag, followed by a set of notes that look like they’re in Tarquin’s handwriting. ‘OK, I’m off.’ She pushes past me and strides out of the room.

I stare after her, mortified. She’s behaving as though I don’t exist. What’s wrong?

‘Suze!’ I run down the stairs behind her. ‘Listen. What time will you be back? Because I’d really like to talk. Things haven’t been great with Luke, and now Elinor’s here, and it’s going to be really tricky, and I’m just feeling a bit—’

‘Things haven’t been great with Luke?’ She wheels round, her blue eyes suddenly blazing with anger, and I take a step back in alarm. ‘You know what, Bex? Things haven’t been great with Tarquin, either! But you weren’t interested in that, were you? So why should I be interested in your stupid problems?’

For a moment I’m too shocked to reply. She looks livid. In fact, she looks in a terrible state. Her eyes are bloodshot, I now notice. Has something happened that I don’t know about?

‘What are you talking about?’ I say anxiously.

‘I’m talking about the fact that he’s been taken away from me by that evil man,’ she says, trembling. ‘I’m talking about the fact that he’s been brainwashed.’

She’s not still on about that, is she?

‘Suze,’ I say as patiently as I can. ‘Bryce’s not evil—’

‘You don’t get it, Bex!’ Suze explodes. ‘They’ve fired him!’

‘What?’ I gape at her.

‘The wellbeing committee think he’s introduced unhealthy practices into Golden Peace. They’re really worried. They want Tarkie to come into Golden Peace and tell them what’s been going on in all those one-to-one sessions. I’m going to see an expert on cults today. He’s going to advise me. I’m on my way there right now with Alicia. She’s been totally supportive and brilliant,’ she adds tremulously. ‘In fact, it was Alicia who alerted her husband and pushed for Bryce to get fired.’

I’m speechless with shock. My head’s spinning with all this new information. Bryce fired? Alicia brilliant? Tarquin brainwashed?

‘Suze,’ I falter at last. ‘Suze, I had no idea—’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ she says with an edge which makes me flinch. ‘You were too busy choosing clutch bags.’

‘That was for work,’ I say defensively. ‘It wasn’t fun!’

‘Oh, yes, work. I forgot.’ She sounds even more scathing. ‘Your super new career which we all have to tiptoe around because you’re famous. Well, I hope you’re enjoying your dream, Becky. I’ll just get on with sorting out my nightmare.’ She reaches for her car keys, her hands shaking.

‘Suze!’ I say in horror. ‘Wait! Look, let’s have a cup of tea …’

‘It’s beyond a cup of tea!’ she almost shrieks. ‘Don’t you get that? No, of course you don’t. Luckily I had Alicia. She’s been amazing. So helpful and so kind …’ Suze’s voice gives a sudden wobble. ‘I knew something was wrong, I knew it …’

I gaze at Suze, stricken. I’ve never felt so bad in all my life. This is all my fault. I introduced Tarquin to Golden Peace, I didn’t listen when Suze was worried …

‘I’m so sorry …’ I swallow. ‘I didn’t realize … Suze, whatever I can do to help I’ll do …’ I move forward to give her a hug, but she bats me off.

‘I have to go. Alicia’s waiting.’

‘Where’s Tarkie?’

‘I don’t know. With Bryce, I should think. Being told a load of vile rubbish.’ She opens the front door but I jam a foot across it.

‘Suze, please,’ I say desperately. ‘Tell me. What can I do?’

Suze surveys me silently, and for one hopeful moment I think she’s going to relent and treat me like her oldest, best friend again. But then, with a weary sigh, she shakes her head.

‘No, Bex. You deal with your problems. I’ll deal with mine.’

She’s gone. I peep through the little side window, staying out of sight. I can see her hurrying to the car. I can see her face relaxing as she calls something to Alicia. My throat is tight and there’s a hotness in my chest.

The car moves off down the drive and I press my head against the window, breathing a cloud on to the glass. What’s happening to my life? Ever since that awards evening when everything kicked off, I’ve felt like I’m living in a kaleidoscope. It’s whizzing around, making different patterns every moment, and as soon I get used to one, it shifts again. Why can’t things stay the same for just one second?

The electric gates are slowly shutting. The car’s gone. My heart feels full to bursting, except I’m not sure what it’s most full of: stress about Luke, worry for Tarkie, longing for Suze to come back, or hatred for Alicia. Because I don’t care what Suze says – I don’t believe Alicia’s changed. She plays games. If she’s being nice and supportive to Suze now, it’s only because she wants to damage her in some way later. She’s got some poisonous plan up her sleeve, I know it. And Suze trusts her more than me … Suze likes her more than me …

Tears are welling up in my eyes and one suddenly trickles down my nose. Another is following it as my phone rings, and I hastily wipe them both away as I answer.

‘Aran! Hi! How are you?’

‘Hey, babe,’ comes his easy voice. ‘I hear you’re styling Sage for the Big Top premiere. Congratulations, that’s pretty big!’

‘Thanks!’ I try to sound as bright as I can. ‘I’m so excited!’

‘Did you tell Luke? Is he psyched?’

‘Kind of,’ I say after a pause.

Not only is he not psyched, I want to say miserably, he isn’t even a tiny bit proud. He thinks I should fire the bodyguards. He won’t eat grain soup. He doesn’t want to be an A-lister. I mean, if you don’t want to be an A-lister, why come to Hollywood in the first place?

‘Well, guess who wants to meet you at the premiere? Nenita Dietz.’

‘No!’ I gasp. ‘Nenita Dietz has heard of me?’

In spite of everything, my spirits rocket up. I spent that whole stupid studio tour trying to find Nenita Dietz. And now she’s trying to find me!

‘Of course she’s heard of you.’ Aran laughs. ‘We’ll set up a meeting, a photo opportunity on the red carpet, maybe you guys can chat at the party … How does that sound?’

‘Amazing!’ I breathe.

As I ring off I feel heady. Me and Nenita Dietz on the red carpet. Making friends and talking fashion. I couldn’t even have dreamed that.

‘Hey, guess what?’ I call out, before I realize that there’s no one to hear me. A moment later, Jeff appears around the door.

‘You OK?’ he says.

‘I’m going to meet Nenita Dietz!’ I say. ‘On the red carpet! She’s asked to meet me. Do you know how important she is?’ Jeff’s face is blank, but I can see his eyes reading my expression for clues.

‘Awesome,’ he says at last, and nods. He disappears again, and I quell a feeling of disappointment that he wasn’t more excited. No one’s proud of me, not even my bodyguard. Another tear suddenly rolls down my cheek and I brush it away impatiently. This is stupid. Stupid. Life is great. Why am I feeling like this?

I’ll call Mum. The solution hits me out of the blue. Of course. Mum will make me feel better. I should have thought of this ages ago. And I can reassure her about Dad, too. It’s evening in the UK. Perfect. I lean back in my chair, dialling the number, and as I hear her familiar voice answering, I feel a relief all over my body.

‘Mum! How are you? Listen, I’m styling Sage for a premiere tomorrow! And I’m meeting Nenita Dietz! She especially called Aran to say she wanted to meet me! Can you believe it?’

‘That’s lovely, Becky.’ Mum sounds tense and distracted. ‘Listen, darling, where’s Dad? Can I speak to him?’

‘He’s out at the moment. I’ll get him to call you back.’

‘Well, where is he?’ I hear a shrill of alarm in her voice. ‘Where’s he gone? Becky, you said you’d keep an eye on him!’

‘I am keeping an eye on him!’ I retort, a bit impatiently. Honestly, what does she expect, that I stalk my own father? ‘He’s been out with Tarquin, Mum. They’ve really bonded. It’s so sweet. Yesterday they went out sightseeing and had supper together and—’ I break off just before I say ‘got drunk’. ‘They had a good time,’ I amend. ‘Mum, you mustn’t worry.’

‘But what’s this all about? Why did he suddenly fly to LA?’ She still sounds distressed. ‘Have you found out? What’s he said to you, love?’

I feel a huge twinge of guilt. I should have made more time to talk to Dad yesterday. I really should. And I should have got those autographs for him. I feel terrible about that.

‘He hasn’t said that much,’ I admit. ‘But we’ll have a big old talk tonight. I promise. I’ll wheedle it out of him.’

As I put the phone down ten minutes later, I feel both better and worse. Better, because it’s always good to talk to Mum. But worse, because I can see how I’ve let things unravel. I’ve been too distracted. I should be more on the case with Dad … I should have been there for Suze … I close my eyes, burying my face in my palms. Everything feels painful and wrong. I’ve messed up in all directions, all at once, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it, and now I don’t know where to start to put things right … What am I going to do …?

For what seems like ages I simply sit there, letting my thoughts whirl around and gradually settle. Then, full of determination, I grab a piece of paper from the kitchen notepad, and write a heading: Resolutions. I’m going to make my life work for me. I’m not going to let it whirl around like a kaleidoscope any more. It’s my life, which means I get to choose how it goes. Even if that means wrestling it to the floor and bashing it on the head and saying, ‘Take, that, life!’

I scribble hard for a while, then sit back and look at my list with resolve. It’s quite a lot – it’ll be a challenge – but I can do it all. I have to do it all.

Resolutions:

Bring peace to Luke and Elinor. (Like St Francis.)

Go on the red carpet and get a million autographs for Dad.

Come up with perfect outfit for Sage and get hired by Nenita Dietz.

Make friends with Suze again.

Save Tarkie from cult.

Find out reason for Dad’s trip and reassure Mum.

Buy strapless bra.

OK, so the last one isn’t quite as life-changing as the others, but I really do need a new strapless bra.