Mini Shopaholic (Shopaholic #6)

Mini Shopaholic (Shopaholic #6) Page 109

Janice has been such a star – as soon as she heard about Mum and Dad going to The West Place, she volunteered to look after Minnie while I was working. She’s bought a whole cupboardful of toys, even though I begged her not to, and taught Minnie loads of new nursery rhymes. The only downside is, apparently she keeps making even more pointed remarks to Jess about grandchildren and sighing loudly as she puts Minnie’s finger paintings up on the wall.

‘It was my pleasure! Any time. So … have you heard from your mum?’ she adds hesitantly.

‘No. Have you?’

Janice nods. ‘They’re having a super time! The apartment’s lovely, apparently. They’ve been to the theatre twice and had a mud wrap. Both of them, at once!’

‘Great.’ I look down. ‘Well … I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves.’

‘Are you two still not speaking, love?’ Janice looks anxious.

‘S’pose not.’

Mum and I have never been not-speaking before. I don’t know what the rules are, but if she didn’t tell me about the mud wrap I guess the not-speaking must still be on.

‘Well, I’d better let you go …’ Janice hands me Minnie’s mittens. ‘I’m off to a craft fair now, to start my Christmas shopping. Where are you and Minnie going?’

‘Green Park,’ I say after a pause. Which is kind of true. The Ritz is right by Green Park.

As we come out of the Tube at Piccadilly, grey clouds rush into the sky as though they’ve just been waiting for their chance, and there’s a sudden smattering of rain. I put up Minnie’s hood and trudge on miserably. Of all the things to raise my spirits, the prospect of tea with Elinor is really not one.

She’s waiting for us in the same grand suite as before, wearing an ice-blue day dress, and on the table are three new jigsaw puzzles.

‘Ladeeee!’ Minnie’s face instantly lights up and she rushes forward to give Elinor a hug. A flash of utter shock and discomposure passes across Elinor’s face, and despite my mood I almost want to giggle.

‘Well, Minnie,’ she says awkwardly, almost curtly. ‘You’d better sit down.’

Minnie is still clinging to her and, very stiffly, Elinor pats her shoulder. I wonder if any small child has ever hugged her before.

Well, Luke, I suppose. Before she left him. Just the thought of it makes my stomach ache.

The table is laid with a sumptuous tea, like last time, but I’m too churned up to feel like eating. I just want to get through this ordeal and go.

‘Wait there, Minnie,’ says Elinor, as Minnie scrambles up beside me on the sofa. ‘I’ve bought you a special cake.’

She heads to a nearby bureau against the wall. As she turns, holding a silver tray with a dome on it, her cheeks have turned just the faintest tinge of pink, and … is that half a minuscule smile? Is Elinor excited?

She places the dish on the table and lifts the silver dome.

Oh my sweet Lord. How much did that cost?

It’s a heart-shaped cake, covered in perfect pink fondant icing, with pink truffles and glacé cherries arranged symmetrically around the edge, and a name piped in immaculate icing in the centre: Minnie.

‘Do you see?’ Elinor is gazing at Minnie for a reaction. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Cake!’ says Minnie, her eyes lighting up greedily. ‘Miiiine cake!’

‘It’s not just a cake,’ says Elinor a little sharply. ‘It’s a cake with your name on it. Don’t you see that?’

‘Elinor, she can’t read,’ I explain gently. ‘She’s not old enough.’

‘Oh.’ Elinor looks put out. ‘I see.’ She’s just standing there, still holding the silver dome, and I can tell she’s disappointed.

‘But it’s lovely,’ I say quickly. ‘Really thoughtful.’

I’m genuinely touched by the trouble she’s gone to, in fact I wish I could take a picture of it with my phone. But then how would I explain it to Luke?

Elinor cuts a slice and hands it to Minnie, who stuffs it into her mouth, smearing cream and crumbs everywhere. I hastily grab a couple of napkins and try to contain the mess – but to my surprise Elinor doesn’t seem as uptight about it as I expected. She doesn’t even flinch when a glacé cherry rolls on to the immaculate Ritz carpet.

‘Now, I’ve bought some new jigsaw puzzles,’ she says, sipping her tea. ‘This particular one of Notre Dame is an interesting one.’

Notre Dame? For a two-year-old? Is she crazy? What’s wrong with Maisy Mouse?

But amazingly, Minnie is listening, entranced, as Elinor informs her about the different shades of grey and the need to start at the edges. When Elinor tips the puzzle out, she watches with huge eyes, and only timidly reaches for pieces when Elinor tells her to. She keeps looking up at me as though inviting me to join in, but I can’t bring myself to do some stupid puzzle. There’s a line of tension running through me like a steel thread, getting tighter and tighter. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?