London’s daffiest über-consumer Becky Brandon is having a baby.
Life is going swimmingly for Becky (The Undomestic Goddess, 2005, etc.). She’s happily married to PR whiz Luke Brandon; she’s in talks to acquire a dream house; and she’s tapped “celebrity” obstetrician Venetia Carter to deliver her firstborn. Drawn to promises of Thai massage and aromatherapy (not to mention the goodie bag), she also hopes to befriend her holistic young doctor’s celeb clients. It comes as a shock, then, when Luke recognizes the stunning MD from their student days at Cambridge, where they were an item. Luke and Venetia start spending time together, and Venetia, for her part, seems eager to pick up where she and Luke left off. She takes every chance to belittle our heroine in front of her hubby, and she leaves him possibly incriminating Latin text messages. Becky also gets suspicious when she catches Luke, who is in the middle of some extremely stressful business dealings, in lies. She guiltily enlists the services of a private detective to follow him. Of course, she also has the PI track down the secret location of a colleague’s fabulous eyebrow-shaping facility. Because . . . well, why not? But Becky’s worst-case scenario comes to be when Venetia confesses that she and Luke are having an affair, and that he is going to ask for a divorce. Can it be true? Meanwhile, Becky must come to the aid of her anti-consumerist half-sister Jess, who has taken up with her depressed childhood neighbor Tom, and appear in Vogue’s “yummiest mummies” issue. Always resourceful, Becky scrambles to save her marriage, not look puffy for her photo shoot and have that baby.
Effervescent and clever amusement best enjoyed by those whose hearts beat faster at the thought of thousand-dollar baby furniture.