Shopaholic to the Stars(130)

I have an image of Elinor limbo-dancing at some Caribbean resort while Luke cheers her on, cocktail in hand, and force myself not to giggle.

‘We stayed in the Hamptons,’ she says after some thought. ‘My old friend Dirk Greggory had a beach cottage there. I took Luke on a number of occasions.’

‘Great. So, you could reminisce about that … maybe plan another trip …’

‘If we did, it would have to be soon,’ says Elinor with asperity. ‘Dirk passed away two years ago, and his daughter is selling the beach cottage. A mistake in my opinion, as was the ghastly work she did to the porch—’

‘Wait,’ I cut her off, my head spinning. ‘Wait. So there’s a cottage in the Hamptons that you and Luke have happy memories of … and it’s about to be sold … and this is your last chance to go back there? Why didn’t you say that in the first place?’

‘Brown bear, brown bear,’ puts in Minnie, looking up from her milk. ‘What do you see?’

‘I fail to understand.’ Elinor’s brow creases as much as it can, i.e. hardly at all.

‘What do you see, Mummy?’ demands Minnie imperiously. ‘What do you seeeeee?’

It’s a good thing I know all her little books off by heart.

‘A red bird.’ I turn back to Elinor. ‘This is perfect. You can say that’s why you’ve come to see Luke. He’s bound to listen.’

‘Red bird, red bird, what do you see?’

‘A blue horse.’

‘No!’ cries Minnie, crashing down her beaker. ‘Not blue horse! Yellow duck!’

‘OK, yellow duck,’ I say, hassled. ‘Whatever. Elinor, this is definitely the way to go! Try to remember all the great times you had together and mention them to Luke. Try to find that bond again.’

Elinor looks dubious, and I sigh. If only she’d present herself better. (By which I don’t mean having immaculate nails and matching shoes.)

‘Could you wear something a little less formal tonight?’ I suggest. ‘And maybe loosen your hair? And talk differently?’

Basically, have a personality transplant, is what I’m really saying.

‘Talk differently?’ Elinor seems affronted.

‘Try repeating this after me.’ I lean forward. ‘“Luke, my love, if we can just spend some time together—”’ I break off at Elinor’s rigid expression. I can see she isn’t going to go for ‘Luke, my love’. ‘All right, let’s try it a different way. You could say, “Luke, my angel …” Her face grows yet more rigid. ‘“Luke, my sweetheart … my darling—”’ I break off. ‘OK, what would you say?’

‘Luke, my son,’ says Elinor.

‘You sound like Darth Vader,’ I say bluntly. Elinor doesn’t even flinch.

‘So be it,’ she says, and sips her water.

That is totally a Darth Vader thing to say. Next she’ll be ordering the destruction of a thousand innocent Jedi younglings.

‘Well, do your best.’ I reach for my tea, feeling exhausted. ‘And I’ll do my best. That’s all we can do.’





From: Yeager, Mack

To: Brandon, Rebecca

Subject: Re: Darth Vader



* * *



Dear Rebecca

Thanks for your email.

There are many theories regarding the inspiration for Darth Vader, as outlined in my book Whence Anakin?, available from all good bookshops.

Whether he was based on a ‘real-life person’ as you suggest, and whether that person left ‘real-life genes swirling around in the gene pool for anyone to come across’, I think doubtful.

In short, I think it unlikely that your mother-in-law is related to Darth Vader.

All my best wishes and may the Force be with you,

Mack Yeager

President, SWGS

STAR WARS GENEALOGY SOCIETY





TWENTY


We’ve arranged that Elinor will come to the house at 7 p.m., and by ten to seven I’m swigging wine, trying to stay calm. I never knew being a peacemaker would be so nerve-racking. Does the Dalai Lama get this stressed out before he spreads peace throughout the world? Does he apply his lip gloss three times because he’s so flustered? (Not very likely, actually.)

At least Minnie went to bed without a fuss, and the older children are happily watching Wall-E. The intervention should be over by the time they have to go to bed. Or I suppose it should. How long does an intervention take?

Oh God, why did I ever decide to do this?

On the plus side, the Intervention Room (i.e. kitchen) looks brilliant. I’ve lit about twenty candles for a mellow, calming atmosphere, and I’ve got soft music playing and I’m wearing a green dress which is very soothing. At least, it would be soothing if it weren’t for the fact that it cost me $280 last week in Intermix and today I saw it marked down to $79.99! They could have warned me. They could have given me some secret sign. That assistant must have been laughing her head off as she wrapped it up.