Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 86

“Call them all off! Call everybody off right this minute before my marriage gets ruined! And don’t phone me again!”

The phone is getting more and more crackly.

“I’m losing you, Mrs. Brandon,” I hear Dave Sharpness’s voice faintly. “My apologies. I’m on the road to Liverpool.”

“I said, stop the investigation!” I say, as loudly and clearly as I dare.

“What about our findings? That’s why I was ringing. Mrs. Brandon, I have a full report available for you….” His voice disappears into a sea of static.

“Findings?” I stare at the phone, my heart suddenly thumping. “What do you…Mr. Sharpness? Are you there?”

“…really think you should see the photographs…”

The crackle suddenly switches to a continuous tone. He’s gone.

I’m paralyzed, standing on the sand, one hand still clutching the Warrior. Photographs? He surely doesn’t mean—

“Becky.” Luke’s voice startles me so much that I jump, flipping my phone into the air. He bends down to pick it up from the sand, and hands it back. I can’t quite look at him as I take it with shaky hands and shove it in my pocket.

Photographs of what?

“Becky, I have to go.” Luke sounds as strained as I feel. “That was…Mel. Slight office emergency.”

“Fine.” I nod and start pushing the Warrior back to the beginning of the course. My eyes are fixed straight ahead. I feel numb. Photographs of what?

“Let’s get the Lulu Guinness pram,” says Luke as we reach the start. “I really don’t mind.”

“No. Get the Warrior.” I swallow, trying to press back the sudden lump springing up in my throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

All the fun and easyness has disappeared. I feel cold with apprehension. Dave Sharpness has got evidence of Luke doing…something. And I have no idea what.

FIFTEEN

I DON’T BOTHER with the sunglasses this time. Nor do I bother smiling at the receptionist. I sit bolt upright on the same brown foam chair, shredding a tissue to bits, thinking, I can’t believe it.

I couldn’t do anything over the weekend. I had to wait until Luke went off to work this morning. I made sure he’d really gone (by looking out the window and then calling him twice in the car to make sure he hadn’t turned round) and then plucked up the courage to ring Dave Sharpness’s office. Even then, I practically did it in a whisper. I spoke to the receptionist, who refused to give me any details of the findings over the phone. So here I am, at eleven o’clock in the morning, in West Ruislip again.

The whole thing feels surreal. It was supposed to be canceled. They weren’t supposed to find anything.

“Mrs. Brandon.” I look up, feeling like a patient at a doctor’s office. There’s Dave Sharpness, sounding more sepulchral than ever. “Would you like to come through?”

As he ushers me into the office, he looks so pitying, I can’t bear it. Instantly I decide to put on a brave face. I’ll pretend I’m not bothered if Luke’s having an affair. I was only wanting to know out of idle curiosity. In fact, I’m glad he’s having an affair, because I wanted a divorce all along. Yes.

“So you found something,” I say nonchalantly as I take a seat. “Interesting.” I attempt a careless little smile.

“This is a difficult time for you, Mrs. Brandon.” Dave Sharpness leans heavily forward on his elbows.

“No it’s not!” I say overbrightly. “I really don’t care. Actually, I’ve got a boyfriend and we’re going to run away together to Monaco, so I’m absolutely fine about all of this.”

Dave Sharpness doesn’t look taken in.

“I think you do care.” His voice descends yet lower. “I think you care very much.” His bloodshot eyes are so mournful, I can’t hold out anymore.

“OK, I do care!” I sniff. “Just tell me, OK? Has he been seeing her?”

Dave Sharpness opens a manila folder and surveys the contents, shaking his head.

“This part of the job is never easy.” He sighs, shuffles the papers, then looks up. “Mrs. Brandon, your husband has been leading quite the double life.”

“Double life?” I gape at him.

“I’m afraid to say, he’s not the man you thought he was.”

How can Luke not be the man I thought he was? What’s he talking about?

“What do you mean?” I say, almost aggressively.

“Last Wednesday, one of my operatives trailed your husband from his place of work. He checked into a hotel under a false name. He ordered cocktails for several…women. Of…a certain type. If you know what I mean, Mrs. Brandon.”