Christmas Shopaholic(65)

Jess

Yes





Becky

And you’re sure everything’s OK with you and Tom?





Jess

Yes





Becky

Because you can confide in me about anything, you know that?





Jess

Yes





Becky

So you and Tom really are OK???





Jess

YES





From: Tom Webster To: Becky Subject: FYI





Dear Becky, Jess shared with me your recent WhatsApp exchange. Clearly you think we’ve got some sort of problem. I would like to let you know: There is nothing wrong with our marriage.

To repeat: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OUR MARRIAGE!!

Best,

Tom





From: Anders Halvorsen To: Becky Brandon Subject: Re: An exciting new word for your dictionary—“sprygge”!




Dear Mrs. Brandon, née Bloomwood: Thank you for your email. I must admit, I found it confusing.

In answer to your question: No, I cannot put “sprygge” into the Norwegian National Dictionary. This word is unfamiliar to me.

I do not believe it has “passed into everyday Norwegian.” Nor is it “on the tip of everyone’s tongue these days.”

What exactly do you believe it means?

Yours sincerely,

Anders Halvorsen

Editor

Norwegian National Dictionary





A week has passed and I’ve put Craig and Nadine out of my mind. Because the best thing to do in life is move on from embarrassing encounters and not look back, even when your husband keeps teasing you about them. He sent me a text yesterday:

John at work has invited us for dinner in the new year with his wife. NB: Fairly sure he means dinner, not a foursome in a hot tub.



Ha ha, hilarious.

But I’m also quite preoccupied with Jess, because Tom’s email troubled me. No one sends an email like that if their marriage is fine. Tom actually sounds a bit deranged, if you ask me. Although, let’s face it, he’s never been what you might call “standard issue.” It’s not so long ago that he was building a monster summer house in Janice and Martin’s garden and announcing he was going to live there.

As I ice Minnie’s birthday cake on Saturday morning, I’m feeling quite concerned—although I’m even more concerned by the stupid cake. The sponge keeps falling apart every time I try to smear the buttercream on. I thought this job would take about ten minutes and I could get it all done while Minnie was at her ballet lesson, but this is a disaster.

“Suze, help,” I say desperately as she strides into the kitchen. “My cake keeps falling to bits when I try to ice it.”

“Did you cover it with a crumb coat first?” she inquires.

“Of course not.” I stare at her. “Crumb what? How did you know about that?”

Suze shrugs vaguely, which probably means she learned it at finishing school. She’s always coming out with some life tip that she learned there, like how to lay a table for six courses or address an envelope to a bishop. I’m about to say, “Is it too late to do the crumb-whatsit thing now?” when Luke walks into the kitchen.

“Jesus,” he says, and breathes out hard.

“What?”

“I’ve just been on the phone to Nadine.”

“Nadine?” I put down my smearing knife and stare at him. “How come?”

“She called me about her business pitch.”

“On a Saturday?”

“She said she’d been waiting impatiently for my call.” He winces. “She seemed to have…let’s say the wrong idea about how things had gone when we met.”

“In what sense?”

“In the sense that she thought I was about to write her a check, give her a car, and rename my company ‘Brandon and Nadine’s Communications.’?”

“Oh my God.” I stare at him, half-horrified and half-wanting to giggle. “But that’s ridiculous! You didn’t promise anything. You just said, ‘There’s a lot to think about.’ I heard you with my own ears.”

“Of course I didn’t promise anything!” says Luke. “She’s a chancer. Or deluded. Or both. Hi, Suze,” he adds.

“Hi, Luke,” says Suze blithely. “So Craig and Nadine aren’t your new best friends after all? Shame.”

I shoot a suspicious glare at her. I can sense a big old “told you so” in her voice, although if I confront her, she’ll say, “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Tell you what,” says Luke, starting to make some coffee. “Nadine got quite nasty on the phone. She implied they need the money.”

“Need the money?” I stare at him. “How can they need the money?”

“She pretty much implied that Craig is broke.” Luke shrugs. “I’m just going on what she said.”

“But he’s a rock star!” I say, bewildered. “He went to Warsaw! He can’t be broke!”

“That’s right, Bex,” says Suze in a deadpan voice. “Because rock stars never go to Warsaw when they’re broke. They take in extra washing and cut coupons.”