Free Shopaholic & Sister by Sophie Kinsella Page A

six months you were trekking with me up the Tsodilo Hills of Botswana. No warm water there!”
    Suze gives me a despairing look, and I grin back sympathetically.
    “I’d better go,” she says. “Bex, I’ll see you afterwards. You will stay a couple of days, won’t you?”
    “We’d love to!” I say happily.
    “Oh, and you
must
meet Lulu!” she adds, halfway out the door.
    “Who’s Lulu?” I call back, but she doesn’t hear.
    Oh, well. I’ll soon find out. It’s probably her new horse, or something.
     
     
    I find Luke outside, where a tented walkway has been set up between the house and the church, just like at Suze’s wedding. As we start walking along the matting, I can’t help feeling a tingle of nostalgia. It was here that we first talked about getting married, in a roundabout sort of way. And then Luke proposed.
    And now here we are. Married for nearly a year!
    I hear footsteps coming up behind and look round to see Tarquin hurrying along the matting, holding a baby.
    “Hi, Tarkie!” I say as he joins us. “So . . . which twin is this?”
    “This one is Clementine,” says Tarquin, beaming. “Our little Clemmie.”
    I peer more closely, and try to hide my surprise. Blimey. Suze is right. She does look like a boy.
    “She’s beautiful!” I say quickly. “Absolutely gorgeous!”
    I’m trying to think of something to say which will emphasize her very
feminine
qualities, when there’s a faint sound from up above. A kind of
chopper-chopper-chopper
. Now it’s getting louder. I look up, and to my astonishment, a huge black helicopter is approaching. In fact . . . it’s landing, on the field behind the house.
    “Do you have a friend with a helicopter?” I say, amazed.
    “Um . . . actually, that’s mine,” says Tarquin bashfully. “Lent it to a friend for a spin.”
    Tarquin has a
helicopter
?
    “Bought it last year,” he explains. “
The Ring
was on at Covent Garden, right in the middle of lambing season. Huge dilemma. I didn’t want to miss either.”
    “Er . . . absolutely!” I nod, as if I really can sympathize.
    Which, in a way, I can. If I was given the choice of watching sheep give birth in freezing-cold fields or listening to an endless Wagner opera . . . I’d buy a helicopter too. To escape.
    By now we’ve arrived at the church, which is bustling with guests. Luke and I slip into a pew near the back, and I look around at all Suze’s relations. There’s Tarquin’s dad, wearing an aubergine-colored smoking jacket, and there’s Fenella, Tarquin’s sister. She’s dressed in cream and is shrieking excitedly at some girl with blond hair I don’t recognize.
    “Who’s that, Agnes?” comes a piercing voice behind me. I glance round, and a woman with gray hair and a gigantic ruby brooch is peering at the blond girl too, through a lorgnette.
    “That’s Fenella, dear!” says the woman in blue sitting next to her.
    “I don’t mean Fenella! I mean the other girl, talking to her.”
    “D’you mean Lulu? That’s Lulu Hetherington.”
    I raise my head in surprise. So. Lulu isn’t a horse. She’s a girl.
    Actually, she does look quite like a horse. She’s very thin and rangy, like Suze, and wearing a pink tweed suit. She laughs at something Fenella says—and she’s got one of those smiles which show all her teeth and gums.
    “She’s a godmother,” Agnes is saying. “
Super
girl. She’s Susan’s best friend!”
    What?
    I look up, taken aback. That’s ridiculous.
I’m
Suze’s best friend. Everyone knows that.
    “Lulu moved into the village six months ago and they’ve become quite inseparable!” Agnes continues. “We see them out riding together every day. She’s so like dear Susan. Just look at the two of them together!”
    Suze has appeared at the front of the church, holding Wilfrid. I suppose there is a superficial likeness between her and Lulu. They’re both tall and blond. They’ve both got their hair in the same chignon. Suze is talking to Lulu, her