Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 113

“Blimey!” says Suze, staring at them. “You’ll need a Christmas Decoration Room too.”

Hey. That’s not a bad idea!

“Hi!” I beam at the men. “Just put them anywhere, thank you so much….” I scribble a signature and turn to Suze as the guys head out again. “I must show you the baby’s Christmas stocking—” I stop. Suze is looking from me to the boxes and back again with a strange, animated expression. “What?”

“Bex, this is it,” she says. “You’re nesting.”

I stare at her. “But…I haven’t cleaned anything.”

“Every woman’s different! Maybe you don’t clean — you order things from catalogs! Was it like…this sudden really strong desire which you couldn’t fight?”

“Yes!” I can’t help a gasp of recognition. “Exactly! The catalog came through the door…and I just had to order from it. I couldn’t stop myself!”

“There you go!” Suze says, satisfied. “It’s all part of nature’s grand plan.”

“Wow,” I breathe, totally awestruck by my own body. I wasn’t shopping, I was nesting! I must tell Luke.

“And you really don’t feel like cleaning anything?” Suze adds curiously. “Or tidying up?”

I prod my feelings experimentally. “I don’t think so….”

“You don’t feel like washing up those plates?” Suze gestures to the breakfast things in the sink.

“No,” I say definitely. “No urge at all.”

“It just shows.” Suze shakes her head in wonderment. “Every pregnancy is different.”

A new thought has suddenly struck me. “Hey, Suze, if I’m nesting, maybe I’ll have the baby soon! Like this afternoon!”

“You can’t!” says Suze in dismay. “Not before your shower!” Immediately she claps her hand over her mouth.

Shower? Does she mean…baby shower?

“Are you throwing me a baby shower!” I can’t help beaming with excitement.

“No!” says Suze at once. “I…that’s not…it wasn’t…I’m not…”

Her face has turned bright pink and she’s twisting one leg around the other. Suze is such a hopeless liar.

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, OK,” she says in a rush. “But it’s a surprise. I’m not going to tell you when it is.”

“Is it today?” I say at once. “I bet it’s today!”

“I’m not telling you!” she says, all flustered. “Stop talking about it. Pretend I never said anything. Come on, let’s go.”

We take a taxi to The Look, and as we draw near I cannot believe my eyes. This is better than I could have hoped for, in a million years.

There are queues of people snaking round the block as far as I can see. There must be hundreds of them, mostly girls in cool-looking outfits, chattering in groups or on mobile phones. Everyone’s holding a helium balloon with THE LOOK — DANNY KOVITZ printed on it, and music is playing from speakers, and one of the girls from PR is giving out bottles of Diet Coke and “Danny Kovitz” lollies.

The whole atmosphere is like a party. A TV crew from London Tonight is filming the scene and a radio presenter is interviewing the girl at the head of the queue, and as we get out I can see a woman introducing herself to a young, rangy girl as a scout from Models One.

“This is amazing,” Suze breathes beside me.

“I know!” I’m trying to look cool, but a huge grin is spreading across my face. “Come on, let’s go inside!”

We fight our way to the head of the queue, and I show my pass to the security guard. As he opens the door to let us in, I can feel the swell of girls pushing forward behind me.

“Did you see that girl?” I can hear furious voices behind me demanding. “She just shoved her way in! Why does she get to queue-barge just because she’s pregnant?”

Oops. Maybe we should have gone in a side door.

Inside, there’s another queue of excited, chattering girls. It winds through accessories, past huge screens showing Danny’s latest catwalk collection, up to a mirrored, art deco table behind which Danny is sitting on a huge throne-like chair. Above him a banner reads EXCLUSIVE— MEET DANNY KOVITZ! and in front of him three teenage girls in indentikit military jackets and ponytails are gawking at him in total awe as he signs plain white Tshirts for them. He meets my eye and winks.

“Thanks,” I mouth back, and blow him a kiss. He is a total, one hundred percent star.