I fold my arms and glare at Mum. ‘Who ordered sushi?’
‘I may have added a few items to the menu,’ says Mum, looking a bit evasive. ‘Just for variety.’
‘But it’s a Russian theme!’
I feel like stamping my foot. What is the point of having a theme if people ignore it and set up their own totally different theme, without even telling you?
‘We can have two themes, love!’ suggests Mum brightly.
‘No we can’t!’
‘It can be Japanese-Russian fusion.’ She nods triumphantly. ‘All the celebrities do fusion these days.’
‘But—’ I halt, mid-stream.
Japanese-Russian fusion. Actually, that’s quite cool. In fact, I wish I’d thought of it.
‘You can put some chopsticks in your hair. You’ll look lovely!’
‘Well, OK,’ I say at last, a bit grudgingly. ‘I suppose we could do that.’ I get out my phone and quickly text Suze and Danny:
Hey. New theme for today is Russian-Japanese fusion. C u later! xxx
Immediately I get a ping back from Suze:
Japanese?? How do I do that??? Sx
Chopsticks in hair? I reply.
Mum has already produced some black lacquer chopsticks and is trying to stick them into my hair. ‘We need a kirby grip,’ she says, tutting. ‘Now, what about Luke?’
‘He won’t wear chopsticks in his hair.’ I shake my head. ‘Whatever the theme is.’
‘No, silly!’ Mum clicks her tongue. ‘I meant, is he nearly here?’
We both instinctively glance at our watches. Luke has sworn he won’t be late for the christening about sixty-five times.
I mean, he won’t. He wouldn’t be.
God knows what this mammoth, mega work crisis is. He won’t say anything about it, or even which client it is. But something must have gone fairly pear-shaped, because he’s barely even been home in the last couple of days, and when he’s called he’s only spoken for about three seconds before ringing off again. I take out my phone again and text him:
R u nearly back?? Where r u????
A moment later a reply pings back:
Doing best. L
Doing best? What’s that supposed to mean? Is he in the car or not? Don’t say he hasn’t even left the office. I feel a sudden pain under my ribs. He can’t be late for his own daughter’s christening. He can’t.
‘Where’s Luke?’ Dad comes past. ‘Any sign of him yet?’
Becky, so sorry. Can’t explain. Still here. Will take helicopter asap. Wait for me. L
I stare at my phone in slight disbelief. Helicopter? He’s coming by helicopter?
All of a sudden I feel a bit cheered up. In fact, I almost forgive him for disappearing off and being so mysterious. I’m about to tell Mum and Dad (very casually) about the helicopter, when the phone bleeps again.
May be a little while yet. Shit about to hit fan. What shit? I text back, feeling prickles of frustration. What fan?
But there’s no reply. Aargh, he’s so annoying. He always has to be so mysterious. It’s probably just some boring old investment fund that made slightly fewer zillions of pounds than it was supposed to. Big deal.