- •I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •I should say something. I should say, “Janice, I don’t fancy Tom. He’s too tall and his breath smells.” But how on earth can I say that?
- •Extract 4
- •I’m absolutely stunned. I’ve never seen anything like this at a press conference. Never!
- •I head toward the back to get another cup of coffee, and find Elly standing by the coffee table. Excellent. I haven’t seen Elly for ages.
- •I’m sorry, but I can’t go and sit back down there. I have to hear about this.
- •Extract 5
- •I stare at him blankly.
- •I have never before worked so hard on an article. Never.
- •I can’t do this. I can’t speak to Luke Brandon. My questions are jotted down on a piece of paper in front of me, but as I stare at them, I’m not reading them.
- •I’ll show Alicia, I think fiercely. I’ll show them all, Luke Brandon included. Show them that I, Rebecca Bloomwood, am not a joke.
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •It’s basically my idea of heaven.
- •I close my eyes and, after a few seconds, feel a cool, creamy liquid being massaged into my face. It’s the most delicious sensation in the world. I could sit here all day.
- •I almost want to laugh at the incongruity of it. What’s she doing here? What’s Alicia Bitch Long-legs doing here, for God’s sake?
- •Is that me? Oh God, I don’t want to be a leading industry expert. I want to go home and watch reruns of The Simpsons.
- •I look around for support and see Rory gazing blankly at me.
- •I watch in a daze as he picks his way across the cable strewn floor toward the exit, half wishing he would look back.
- •Extract 8
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •I’ll just have a really quick look.
- •I mean, what is wrong with these people? Are they complete philistines?
- •Extract 6
- •It’s only as we're approaching a department entitled ‘Gift Wrapping’ that I realize what’s going on. When I said ‘gift’, she must have thought I meant it was an actual–
- •I take the card from her, and as I read, my skin starts to prickle with excitement.
- •Extract 7
- •I stare at him, agog.
- •I can’t tell him I’ve actually got three. And two on hold at Barneys.
- •Extract 2
- •I wish bridesmaids got to say something. It wouldn’t have to be anything very much. Just a quick ‘Yes’ or ‘I do’.
- •I’ve always been a teeny bit awkward around Tarquin. But now I see him with Suze – married to Suze – the awkwardness seems to melt away.
- •Extract 3
- •I glance into the mirror, feeling quite grown-up and proud of myself. For once in my life I’m not rushing. I’m not getting overexcited.
- •I remember that cake. The icing was lurid green and the lawnmower was made out of a painted matchbox. You could still see ‘Swan’ through the green.
- •I have never worn anything less flattering in my life.
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •I’ll be a grown-up, go along to the cake studio and break the news to her face to face.
- •I had no idea wedding cakes could be anything like this. I flip through, slightly dazedly, looking at cake after spectacular cake.
- •I can see Alicia’s brain working hard.
- •I can see Robyn and Antoine exchanging looks, and I’m dying to ask them what they think of Alicia. But... It wouldn’t be becoming in a bride-to-be.
- •If I’m really honest, hand on heart – I feel exactly like someone who’s going to have a huge, luxurious wedding at the Plaza.
- •I put the invitation into my bag and snap the clasp shut, feeling slightly sick.
- •I look at him, my attention finally caught.
- •Extract 8
- •I stare at him in utter stupefaction. What does he think he’s doing?
- •I stare at him in horror.
- •I follow his gaze, and see Danny’s brother Randall walking across the floor towards us.
- •Extract 9
- •I stare at her, momentarily halted.
- •I stare at the page, my heart pounding. It’s a typed sheet, headed terms of agreement. I look straight down to the dotted line at the bottom – and there’s my signature.
- •I haven’t said a word about anything to Luke. In The Realistic Bride it says the way to stop your fiance getting bored with wedding details is to feed them to him on a need-to-know basis.
- •I feel a stab of shock.
- •Extract 10
- •I put the phone down and smile at Robyn, who’s wearing a bright pink suit and a headset and carrying a walkie-talkie.
- •In fact, it’s completely true. I’m beyond nervous. Either everything goes to plan and this all works out. Or it doesn’t and it’s a complete disaster. There’s not much I can do about it.
- •I’ve never seen a wedding dress like it. It’s a work of art.
- •Extract 11
- •I reach out and hug her tightly.
- •I can't move. I can't breathe. I need my fairy godmothers, quick.
- •I don’t believe it. It’s Luke.
- •Extract 12
- •I feel a huge spasm of nerves as I see the familiar sign. We’re nearly there.
- •I’m getting married. I’m really getting married.
- •I freeze in terror, one foot inside the car. What’s happened? Who’s found out? What do they know?
- •I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
- •I feel a spasm of nerves inside. Here it comes. The last bit of my plan. The very last cherry on top of the cake.
- •Extract 2
- •Extract 3
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •Extract 8
- •Extract 9
- •Extract 10
- •Extract 11
- •I’m fantastically well-organised, basically. And very self-disciplined. The early bird catches the modeling contracts, after all.
- •Extract 13
- •I am such a deluded moron.
- •Extract 2
- •I draw myself up short with a jolt. “I’m sorry,” I say, and exhale sharply. “You don’t want to hear all this.”
- •Extract 3
- •I bet they do.
- •I was so totally mortified, I never told anyone. Especially not Mum and Dad.
- •Extract 4
- •Extract 5
- •I don’t think so.
- •Extract 6
- •Extract 7
- •I watch in total disbelief as Jack settles comfortably down on the rug. He was supposed to be rescuing me from all this. Not joining in. Slowly I sink down beside him.
- •I stare at her blankly. Since when have Kerry and I ever socialized together?
- •Extract 8
- •I am never visiting a zoo again.
- •Revenge is Sweet (by c. Fremlin)
- •It worked like a dream, exactly as she’d planned.
- •The Way up to Heaven (by r. Dahl)
- •For Services Rendered (by j. Deaver)
- •I can help you and you can help me...
- •I can help you and you can help me...
- •Makeover (by b. Callahan)
- •Interrupting her in mid sob, Monty said, “Hold on there, Steph. Gotta pay our bills. Time for a commercial.”
Extract 6
God, I adore shopping abroad. I mean, shopping anywhere is always great – but the advantages of doing it abroad are:
1. You can buy things you can’t get in Britain.
2. You can name-drop when you get back home. (‘Actually, I picked this up in New York.’)
3. Foreign money doesn’t count, so you can spend as much as you like.
OK, I know that last one isn’t entirely true. Somewhere in my head I know that dollars are proper money, with a real value. But I mean, look at them. I just can’t take them seriously. I’ve got a whole wodge of them in my purse, and I feel as though I’m carrying around the bank from a Monopoly set. Yesterday I went and bought some magazines from a newsstand, and as I handed over a $20 bill, it was just like playing shop. It’s like some weird form of jet-lag – you move into another currency and suddenly feel as though you’re spending nothing.
So as I walk around the bag department, trying out gorgeous bag after gorgeous bag, I’m not taking too much notice of the prices. Occasionally I lift a price tag and make a feeble attempt to work out how much that is in real money – but I have to confess, I can’t remember the exact exchange rate. And even if I could, I’ve never been very good at sums.
But the point is, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to worry, because this is America, and everyone knows that prices in America are really low. It’s common knowledge, isn’t it? So basically, I’m working on the principle that everything’s a bargain. I mean, look at all these gorgeous designer handbags. They’re probably half what they’d cost in England, if not less!
Eventually I choose a beautiful Kate Spade bag in tan leather, and take it up to the counter. It costs $500, which sounds quite a lot – but then, ‘a million lire’ sounds a lot too, doesn’t it? And that’s, only about 50p.
As the assistant hands me my receipt, she even says something about it being ‘a gift’ – and I beam in agreement.
‘A complete gift! I mean, in London, it would probably cost–’
‘Gina, are you going upstairs?’ interrupts the woman, turning to a colleague. ‘Gina will show you to the seventh floor,’ she says, and smiles at me.
‘Right,’ I say, in slight confusion. ‘Well... OK.’
Gina beckons me briskly and, after a moment’s hesitation, I follow her, wondering what’s on the seventh floor. Maybe some complimentary lounge for Kate Spade customers, with free champagne or something!
It’s only as we're approaching a department entitled ‘Gift Wrapping’ that I realize what’s going on. When I said ‘gift’, she must have thought I meant it was an actual–
‘Here we are,’ says Gina brightly. ‘The Saks signature box is complimentary – or choose from a range of quality wrap.’
‘Right!’ I say. ‘Well... thanks very much! Although actually, I wasn’t really planning to–’
But Gina has already gone, and the two ladies behind the gift wrap counter are smiling encouragingly at me.
Oh God, this is a bit embarrassing. What am I going to do?
‘Have you decided which paper you’d like?’ says the elder of the two ladies, beaming at me. ‘We also have a choice of ribbons and adornments.’
Oh sod it. I’ll get it wrapped. I mean, it only costs $7.50 – and it’ll be nice to have something to open when I get back to the hotel room, won’t it?
‘Yes!’ I say, and beam back. ‘I’d like that silver paper, please, and some purple ribbon... and one of those clusters of silver berries.’
The lady reaches for the paper and deftly begins to wrap up my bag – more neatly than I’ve ever wrapped anything in my life. And you know, this is quite fun! Maybe I should always get my shopping gift-wrapped.
‘Who’s it to?’ says the lady, opening a card and taking out a silver pen.
‘Um... to Becky,’ I say vaguely. Some girls have come into the gift wrap room, and I’m slightly intrigued by their conversation.
‘...fifty per cent off...’
‘...sample sale...’
‘...Earl jeans...’
‘And who is it from?’ says the gift wrap lady pleasantly.
‘Um... from Becky,’ I say without thinking. The gift wrap lady gives me a rather strange look and I suddenly realize what I’ve said. ‘A... a different Becky,’ I add awkwardly.
‘...sample sale...’
‘...Alexander McQueen, pale blue, 80 per cent off...’
‘...sample sale...’
‘...sample sale...’
Oh, I can’t bear this any longer.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, turning round. ‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation – but I just have to know one thing. What is a sample sale?’
The whole gift wrap area goes quiet. Everyone is staring at me, even the lady with the silver pen.
‘You don’t know what a sample sale is?’ says a girl in a leather jacket eventually, as though I’ve said I don’t know my alphabet.
‘Erm... no,’ I say, feeling myself flush red. ‘No, I... I don’t.’ The girl raises her eyebrows, reaches in her bag, rummages around, and finally pulls out a card. ‘Honey, this is a sample sale.’