The Undomestic Goddess - Sophie Kinsella

“Journalists?” Trish peers at him. “What on earth would journalists be doing here?”

“Maybe we have a new celebrity neighbor?” suggests Eddie, pouring his beer into a glass. At once Trish claps her hand over her mouth.

“Joanna Lumley! I heard a rumor she was buying in the village! Samantha, have you heard anything about this?”

“I… er… no,” I mumble, my face burning.

I have to say something. But what? Where do I start?

“Samantha, I need this shirt ironed by tonight.” Melissa comes wandering into the kitchen, holding a sleeveless print

shirt. “And be really careful with the collar, OK? What’s going on outside?”

“Nobody knows,” says Trish, looking beside herself. “But we think it’s Joanna Lumley!”

Suddenly the doorbell rings. For a moment I consider bolting out the back door.

“I wonder if that’s them!” exclaims Trish. “Eddie, go and answer it. Samantha, put on some coffee.” She looks at me in impatience. “Come on!”

I need to explain but I’m totally paralyzed.

“Samantha?” She peers at me. “Are you all right?”

With an almighty effort I look up.

“Urn… Mrs. Geiger…” My voice comes out a nervous husk. “There’s… there’s something… I ought to—”

“Melissa!” Eddie’s voice interrupts me. He’s hurrying into the kitchen, a huge smile spread across his face. “Melissa, love! They want you!”

“Me?” Melissa looks up in surprise. “What do you mean, Uncle Eddie?”

“It’s the Daily Mail. They want to interview you!” Eddie turns to Trish, glowing with pride. “Did you know that our Melissa has one of the finest legal brains in the country?”

Oh, no. Oh, no.

“What?” Trish nearly drops her copy of

Your Elegant Luncheon Party.

“That’s what they said!” Eddie nods. “They said it might come as quite a surprise to me to learn we had such a highflying lawyer in the house. I said, nonsense!” He puts an arm around Melissa.“We’ve always known you were a star!”

“Mrs. Geiger…” I say urgently. No one takes any notice of me.

“It must be that prize I won at law school! They must have heard about it somehow!” Melissa is gasping. “Oh, my God! The Daily Mail!”

“They want to take photos too!” puts in Eddie. “They want an exclusive!”

“I need to put on some makeup!” Melissa looks totally flustered. “How do I look?”

“Here we are!”Trish wrenches open her handbag.“Here’s some mascara… and lipstick…”

I have to stop this. I have to break it to them.

“Mr. Geiger…” I clear my throat. “Are you sure… I mean, did they ask for Melissa by… by name?”

“They didn’t need to!” He twinkles at me. “Only one lawyer in this house!”

“Make some coffee, Samantha,” instructs Trish sharply. “And use the pink cups. Quickly! Wash them up.”

“The thing is… I have… I have something to tell you.”

“Not now, Samantha! Wash up those cups!” Trish thrusts the rubber gloves at

me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you today—”

“But I don’t think they’ve come to see Melissa,” I say desperately. “There’s something I… I should have told you.”

No one pays any attention. They’re all focused on Melissa.

“How do I look?” Melissa smooths her hair back selfconsciously.

“Lovely, darling!” Trish leans forward. “Just a touch more lipstick. Make you look really glamorous…”

“Is she ready for the interview?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice comes from the kitchen door and everyone freezes in excitement.

“In here!” Eddie pulls open the door to reveal a dark-haired, middle-aged woman in a trouser suit, whose eyes immediately run appraisingly over the kitchen.

“Here’s our legal star!” Eddie gestures to Melissa with a beam of pride.

“Hello.” Melissa tosses back her hair, then steps forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m Melissa Hurst.”

The woman looks at Melissa blankly for a few moments. “Not her,” she says. “Her. ” And she points at me.

In puzzled silence, everyone turns to stare at me. Melissa’s eyes have narrowed to deepest suspicion. I can see the Geigers exchanging glances.

“That’s Samantha,” says Trish, looking perplexed. “The housekeeper.”

“You’re Samantha Sweeting, I take it?” The woman brings out her reporter’s pad. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“You want to interview the housekeeper?” says Melissa, with a sarcastic laugh. The journalist ignores her.

“You are Samantha Sweeting, aren’t you?” she persists.

“I… yes,” I admit at last. “But I don’t want to do an interview. I don’t have any comment.”

“Comment?” Trish’s eyes dart around uncertainly. “Comment on what?”

“What’s going on, Samantha, love?” Eddie looks anxious. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“You haven’t told them?” The Daily Mail journalist looks up from her notepad. “They have no idea?”

“Told us what?” says Trish, agitated. “What?”

“She’s an illegal immigrant!” says Melissa in tones of triumph. “I knew it! I knew there was something—”

“Your ‘housekeeper’ is a top City lawyer.” The woman throws down a copy of the Daily World onto the kitchen table. “And she’s just turned down a sixfigure partnership to work for you.”

It’s as though someone’s thrown a grenade into the kitchen. Eddie visibly reels.Trish totters on her high-heeled clogs and grabs a chair for balance. Melissa’s face looks like a popped balloon.

“I meant to tell you.” I bite my lip awkwardly as I look round the faces. “I was… getting round to it…”

Trish’s eyes are bulging as she reads the Daily World headline. Her mouth is opening and closing, but no sound is coming out.

“You’re a… a lawyer?” she stutters at last.

“Not just any old lawyer,” chimes in the journalist, consulting her notes. “Highest