I glance up at Luke to see if perhaps he’s thinking the same thing as me and will meet my eyes with a soft, loving gaze. But instead, he’s frowning at something on his BlackBerry. Honestly. Why isn’t he more tuned in to my thoughts? We’re supposed to be married, aren’t we? He should understand me. He should realize why I’ve led him to a baby shop.
‘That’s sweet, isn’t it?’ I point at a teddy-bear mobile.
‘Mm-hmm.’ Luke nods without even looking up.
‘Wow, look at that pram!’ I point longingly at an amazing-looking hi-tech contraption with bouncy wheels that look like they came off a Hummer. ‘Isn’t it great?’
If we had another baby we could buy another pram. I mean, we’d have to. The crappy old pram Minnie had is completely bust. (Not that I want another baby just to get a cool pram, obviously. But it would be an added bonus.)
‘Luke.’ I clear my throat. ‘I was just thinking. About … us. I mean … all of us. Our family. Including Minnie. And I was wondering—’
He holds up his hand and lifts his BlackBerry to his ear.
‘Yes. Hi.’
God, I hate that silent ring-mode. It gives you no warning at all that he’s getting a call.
‘I’ll catch up with you,’ he mouths to me, then turns back to his BlackBerry. ‘Yup, Gary, I got your email.’
OK, so this isn’t a great time to discuss buying a pram for a mythical second baby.
Never mind. I’ll wait till later.
As I hurry back to Santa’s Grotto, it suddenly occurs to me that I might be missing Minnie’s turn, and I break into a run. But as I skid round the corner, breathless, Father Christmas isn’t even back on his throne yet.
‘Becky!’ Mum waves from the front of the queue. ‘We’re next! I’ve got the camcorder all ready … Ooh look!’
An elf with a bright, vacant smile has taken the stage. She beams around and taps the microphone for attention.
‘Hello, boys and girls!’ she calls out. ‘Quiet now. Before Santa starts seeing all the children again, it’s Christmas wish time! We’re going to pull out the wish of one lucky child, and grant it! Will it be a teddy? Or a doll’s house? Or a scooter?’
The microphone isn’t working properly and she taps it in annoyance. Even so, excitement is rippling through the crowd, and there’s a surge forward. Camcorders are waving in the air and small children are swarming through people’s legs to see, their faces all lit up.
‘Minnie!’ Mum is saying excitedly. ‘What did you wish for, darling? Maybe they’ll choose you!’
‘And the winner is called … Becky! Well done, Becky!’ The elf’s suddenly amplified voice makes me jump.
No. That can’t be …
It must be another Becky. There must be loads of little girls here called Becky.
‘And little Becky has wished for …’ She squints at the wishing card. ‘ “A Zac Posen top in aquamarine, the one with the bow, size 10.”’
Shit.
‘Is Zac Posen a new TV character?’ The elf turns to a colleague, looking bemused. ‘Is that, like, a spinning top?’
Honestly, how can she work in a department store and not have heard of Zac Posen?
‘How old is Becky?’ The elf is smiling brightly around. ‘Becky, sweetheart, are you here? We haven’t got any tops, but maybe you’d like to choose a different toy from Santa’s sleigh?’
My head is ducked down in embarrassment. I can’t bring myself to raise my hand. They didn’t say they’d read the bloody Christmas wishes out loud. They should have warned me.
‘Is Becky’s mummy here?’
‘Here I am!’ calls Mum, gaily waving her camcorder.
‘Ssh, Mum!’ I hiss. ‘Sorry,’ I call out, my face boiling. ‘It’s … um, me. I didn’t realize you’d be … Choose another wish. A child’s wish. Please. Throw mine away.’
But the elf can’t hear me above the hubbub.
‘“Also those Marni shoes I saw with Suze, not the stack heels, the other ones.” ’ She’s still reading out loud, her voice booming through the sound-system. ‘Does this make sense to anyone? “And …” ’ She squints more closely at the paper. ‘Does that say “A sibling for Minnie”? Is Minnie your dolly, love? Aww, isn’t that sweet?’
‘Stop it!’ I cry out in horror, pushing forward through the crowd of small children. ‘That’s confidential! No one was supposed to see that!’
‘ “And above all, Father Christmas, I wish that Luke—” ’
‘Shut UP!’ In desperation I practically dive at the Grotto. ‘That’s private! It’s between me and Father Christmas!’ I reach the elf and try to wrench the paper out of her hand.
‘Ow!’ she cries.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say breathlessly. ‘But I’m Becky.’
‘You’re Becky?’ Her mascaraed eyes narrow – then she looks down at the paper again and I see comprehension dawning. After a few moments her face softens. She folds the paper and hands it back to me.
‘I hope you get your Christmas wish,’ she says quietly, away from the microphone.
‘Thanks.’ I hesitate, then add, ‘Same to you, whatever it is. Happy Christmas.’
I turn to go back to Mum – and through the thicket of heads I glimpse Luke’s dark eyes. He’s standing there, near the back.
My stomach flips over. What exactly did he hear?