“I’m not into touristy gimmicks,” she says disdainfully, and Alicia nods in agreement.
I feel a dart of hurt. Since when? She was totally into touristy gimmicks when we went to Seville that time and bought flamenco dresses and wore them out to supper and kept saying “Olé!” to each other. We couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of the best nights of my life. In fact, Suze was the one who had the idea to wear the dresses, now I come to think of it. And she bought a guitar with ribbons on it. How touristy is that?
“Suze, come and see the Bellagio fountains at least,” I say entreatingly. “They’re not gimmicky, they’re iconic. Don’t you remember when we went to see Ocean’s Eleven for the first time and we made a pact to go to Las Vegas one day?”
Suze shrugs blankly, checking her phone as though she has no interest in anything I have to say, and I feel the tears threatening again.
“OK. Well. Enjoy your evening.”
“You do realize we have breakfast with Tarkie and your father at nine tomorrow morning?” Suze fixes me with an accusing gaze.
“Of course!”
“So you won’t be up till all hours, drinking free cocktails and passing out over the roulette table?”
“No!” I say defiantly. “I will not. I’ll be sitting here, bright as a button, at eight-thirty A.M.”
“Well, see you then.”
Suze and Alicia head off down a corridor which looks just like the Sistine Chapel, and I stare after her miserably, then turn back to the others.
“You’ll come and watch the fountains with me?” I appeal to Luke. “And you, Mum? And Janice?”
“Of course we will!” says Mum, who procured a drink from somewhere while Luke was checking us in and is now swigging from it. “You can’t hold us back! My time has come, love. My time has come.”
“What do you mean?” I say, puzzled.
“If your father can go kicking his heels up, then so can I! If your father can run through the family fortune, then so can I!”
Mum has had a slightly mad look in her eye ever since we heard from Dad. Now, gulping her drink, she looks even madder.
“I don’t think Dad’s running through the family fortune,” I say warily.
“How do we know what he’s doing?” counters Mum wildly. “All these years, I’ve been that man’s dutiful wife. I’ve cooked him supper, I’ve made his bed, I’ve hung on his every word….”
OK, that’s rubbish. Mum has never hung on Dad’s every word, and half the time she buys ready meals from Marks & Spencer.
“And now I find that he has secrets and mysteries!” continues Mum. “Lies and conspiracies!”
“Mum, he’s just gone on a little trip, it’s not the end of the world—”
“Lies and conspiracies!” repeats Mum, ignoring me. “Janice, do you fancy a go on the slot machines? Because I know I do.”
“We’ll be back in a jiffy,” says Janice breathlessly, as she follows Mum across the lobby.
Oooookay. I think I’ll need to keep an eye on Mum.
“Minnie, shall we go and see the big fishies?” I turn and give her a hug. She’s been such a poppet, sitting nicely all day in the RV. She deserves a bit of fun now.
“Fishies!” Minnie starts opening her mouth and gulping like a fish.
There’s a little guidebook in the welcome pack which Luke was given, and as I read through the Top Ten Attractions for Kids, I feel a bit gobsmacked. There’s everything here! There’s the Eiffel Tower and New York skyscrapers and Egyptian pyramids and dolphins and circus acts. It’s like someone’s crunched the entire world into one street and left out all the boring bits.
“Come on, sweetheart!” I say, and hold out my hand. I can give Minnie a good time, anyway.
SIX
Two hours later, my head is a whirl of lights and music and traffic noise. And, above all, bleeps. Las Vegas is the bleepiest city I’ve ever known. It’s like, everywhere you go there’s a live band playing at full volume, and the only instruments are slot machines, and they only play one track: bleep-bleep-bleepy-bleep. And they never stop. Except when they occasionally disgorge money, which would be the percussion section.
I actually have a headache from all the clamor, but I don’t care, because we’re having a brilliant time. We’ve driven up and down the Strip in a limo which the Venetian concierge fixed up for us, and we’ve hopped out at this hotel and that hotel, and I feel as though I’ve been round the world. I even gave Minnie “Parisian Poulet” for supper. (It was chicken strips.)
Now we’re back at the Venetian, which feels quite calm and normal compared to some of the places we’ve been. (Well, “normal” bearing in mind that the sky, clouds, canals, and St. Mark’s Square are all fake.) Luke has gone off to the conference center to work through a backlog of emails. Mum and Janice have taken Minnie to investigate gondola rides, and I’m wandering round the shops. Or, rather, “Shoppes.” (Why do they call them “Shoppes”? Isn’t that olden-days English? And surely we’re supposed to be in Italy?)
There are loads of Shoppes, from designer stores to galleries to souvenir outlets. It’s pretty impressive, as malls go. As I walk along, the air is a perfect temperature and the fake sky is blue with wispy clouds. There’s an opera singer wandering around in a velvet dress, trilling some lovely aria. I’ve just been in to Armani and seen a gray cashmere jacket which would look stunning on Luke. (Except it’s eight hundred dollars, so I hesitated. I mean, he should try it on first, at least.) The whole thing is amazing, and I should be having the time of my life. But the truth is, I’m not.
I keep picturing Suze’s face and feeling a great rolling sadness. It’s as if she doesn’t want to know me. But she’s the one who begged me to come on this trip. She’s the one who stood, holding my hands, saying, “I need you.” It makes no sense.
I lost Suze once before, when I’d been away on honeymoon. But that was different. That was drifting apart. This is more like she’s cutting me off.
By now I’ve wandered into the Big Souvenir Store, and as I start to fill my basket, my chest is heaving in distress. Stop it, Becky, I tell myself desperately. Come on, focus on the souvenirs. I have a snow globe of the Las Vegas skyline, and some dollar-sign fridge magnets, and a load of T-shirts saying WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS. I reach for an ashtray in the shape of a shoe, wondering if I know anyone who smokes….
But the thoughts keep piling in. Is this it? Is our friendship over? After all these years, all our ups and downs…are we really at the end of the line? I just can’t work out what’s gone wrong. I know I didn’t behave brilliantly in L.A. But did I really wreck things this badly?
There’s a rack of jewelry made out of dice, and miserably I stuff a couple of necklaces into my basket. Maybe Mum and Janice will like them. In the old days, I would have bought matching ones for Suze and me and we would have thought it was hilarious, but I don’t have the confidence to do that now.
What am I going to do? What can I do?
My feet are taking me round and round the shop and I keep passing the same items, over and over. I have to stop. Come on, Becky, focus. I can’t just keep walking and brooding. I’ll get these things and then see if Mum has had any joy with the gondolas.
The shop is pretty busy and has three checkout lines. As I finally reach the front of the queue, a pretty cashier in a sparkly jacket dimples at me.
“Hi! I hope your shopping experience today was enjoyable!”