Alice-Miranda in Paris 7 by Jacqueline Harvey Page A

stomach. Other than Lawrence she hadn’t told anyone her news.
    Charlotte’s telephone rang in her bag. She fished it out and and saw that it was her husband.
    ‘Hello darling, I’m just on my way into the city now,’ Charlotte said. ‘Yes, the flight was fine.’
    There was a pause as she listened to Lawrence on the other end of the line.
    ‘I miss you too. Of course I’ll be careful.’ Lawrence was the most attentive husband. She hated leaving him but she was desperate to see Cecelia in person and this week was perfect as he was shooting scenes for his next movie in Colorado for a few days.
    ‘I’ll be home before you know it,’ she replied. ‘Love you, darling.’ Charlotte waited for her husband to hang up before she ended the call. As the black limousine pulled up outside the Ritz, Charlotte smiled to herself. She couldn’t remember ever being happier.
    ‘Good afternoon, Madame Highton-Smith,’ said the splendidly dressed valet as he opened the door. ‘Welcome back to the Hôtel Ritz.’
    Charlotte stepped out of the vehicle into the warm summer sunshine.
    ‘Thank you, Michel, it’s lovely to be here, as always,’ she beamed.
    The lobby thronged with people. Charlotte walked to the reception desk to check in. She waited while a rather pushy woman made all sorts of unreasonable demands, apparently on behalf of the celebrity she played publicist for. She was so loud that Charlotte was in no doubt about whom she was looking after. When the woman finally stalked off in her six-inch heels, the young staff member sighed in relief.
    ‘Tough day?’ Charlotte enquired.
    The young woman looked sheepish. ‘Oh, no, madame. Not at all. People are just, how you say? Needy.’
    ‘Very, by the looks of that lot.’ Charlotte turned and surveyed the ever-increasing entourage milling about in the foyer.
    ‘How may I help you?’
    ‘I’d just like to check in, if I may? Charlotte Highton-Smith.’
    ‘Of course, madame. Your suite is on the top floor. I have a message from Madame Cecelia Highton-Smith who asked me to tell you that she is already in the hotel and is expecting you. Monsieur Michel will have one of the staff attend to your luggage.’ The woman handed over the key to the room.
    Charlotte looked at the girl’s badge. ‘Thank you, Claudia.’
    ‘Enjoy your stay, madame,’ she smiled at Charlotte.
    ‘
Merci
, and I hope your day improves too,’ Charlotte replied. She grimaced as she caught sight of the publicist charging back towards the reception desk. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered.
    Charlotte took the lift to the top floor. She swiped the key and entered the suite, dumping her bag in the bedroom before she walked to the door that led through to her sister’s room.
    She knocked gently and turned the handle.
    ‘Hello Cee,’ she called.
    Cecelia emerged from the bathroom. ‘Charlotte, darling, it’s so good to see you.’ The sisters embraced. ‘Gosh, I’ve missed you. Come and sit down. I’ve ordered tea and champagne. Should be here any minute.’
    ‘Tea, please,’ said Charlotte as she sank into the plush sofa.
    ‘So tell me, how are you? How’s Lawrence? Are you enjoying LA?’ Cecelia fired questions like bullets.
    ‘Good, good and yes, LA is lots of fun,’ Charlotte replied.
    Cecelia looked at her. ‘You’re different, Cha. Have you done something to your hair?’
    ‘No, same as always. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m pregnant.’ Charlotte beamed.
    Cecelia squealed. ‘Oh, darling, that’s wonderful.’ She hugged her sister again and began to sniffle.
    ‘Cee, why are you crying?’ Charlotte admonished.
    ‘You know I always cry when I’m happy and this is just the best news,’ said Cecelia.
    ‘I’m afraid there’s more.’ Charlotte took her sister’s hands.
    ‘What?’ Cecelia looked concerned.
    ‘It’s not just one,’ Charlotte announced.
    ‘Oh my goodness, you’re having twins!’ Cecelia gasped. ‘Can you imagine how excited Alice-Miranda is going to