Sophie Kinsella - Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

love_contemporaryKinsellaTakes Manhattan

“This expensive, glossy world is where I’ve been headed all along. Limos and flowers; waxed eyebrows and designer clothes from Barneys. These are my people; this is where I'm meant to be.” — Becky Bloomwoodbeloved by readers, Sophie Kinsella’s national bestseller, Confessions of a Shopaholic, introduced the irrepressible one-woman shopping phenomenon, Becky Bloomwood. Now, in this hilarious follow-up, Becky and her credit cards are headed across the Atlantic….her shopping excesses (somewhat) in check and her career as a TV financial guru thriving, Becky’s biggest problem seems to be tearing her entrepreneur boyfriend, Luke, away from work for a romantic country weekend. And worse, figuring out how to “pack light.” But packing takes on a whole new meaning when Luke announces he's moving to New York for business — and he asks Becky to go with him!you can say “Prada sample sale,” Becky has landed in the Big Apple, home of Park Avenue penthouses and luxury department stores. Surely it’s only a matter of time until she becomes an American TV celebrity, and she and Luke are the toast of Gotham society. Nothing can stand in their way, especially with Becky’s bills miles away in London.then an unexpected disaster threatens her career prospects, her relationship with Luke, and her available credit line! Shopaholic Takes Manhattan — but will she have to return it?KINSELLATakes Manhattan

(aka Shopaholic Abroad)second book in the Shopaholic seriesGemma, who has always known the importance to a girl of a Denny and George scarfBANKBranch

Fulham RoadSW6 9JH. Rebecca Bloomwood2

Burney Rd.SW6 8FD

July 2000Ms. Bloomwood:you for your letter of 15 July.is true that we have known each other a long time, and I am pleased that you consider me “more than just a bank manager.” I agree that friendship is important and was glad to hear that you would always lend me money should I need it., I cannot reciprocate, as you suggest, by wiping £1,000 off your overdraft “accidentally on purpose.” I can assure you, the money would be missed., I am prepared to extend your overdraft limit by another £500, taking it up to £4,000, and suggest that we meet before too long to discuss your ongoing financial needs.sincerely,SmeathBANKBranch

Fulham RoadSW6 9JH. Rebecca Bloomwood2

Burney Rd.SW6 8FD

July 2000Ms. Bloomwood:am glad that my letter of 18 July proved helpful.should, however, be grateful if you refrained from referring to me personally on your television show as “Sweetie Smeathie” and “the best bank manager in the world.”naturally I am pleased you feel this way, my superiors are a little anxious at the image of Endwich Bank which is being presented, and have asked that I write to you on the matter.all best wishes,SmeathBANKBranch

Fulham RoadSW6 9JH. Rebecca Bloomwood2

Burney Rd.SW6 8FD

August 2000Ms. Bloomwood:you for your letter of 18 August.was sorry to hear that keeping within your new overdraft limit is proving so difficult. I understand that the Pied a Terre summer sale is a unique opportunity to save money in the long run, and I can certainly increase your limit by £63.50 if, as you say, this would “make all the difference.”, I would also recommend that you come into the branch for a more comprehensive review of your financial situation. My assistant, Erica Parnell, will be pleased to set up an appointment.sincerely,Smeath, DON’T PANIC. Don’t panic. It’s simply a question of being organized and staying calm and deciding what exactly I need to take. And then fitting it all neatly into my suitcase. I mean, just how hard can that be?step back from my cluttered bed and close my eyes, half-hoping that if I wish hard enough, my clothes might magically organize themselves into a series of neatly folded piles. Like in those magazine articles on packing, which tell you how to go on holiday with one cheap sarong and cleverly turn it into six different outfits. (Which I always think is a complete con, because, OK, the sarong costs ten quid, but then they add loads of accessories which cost hundreds, and we’re not supposed to notice.)when I open my eyes again, the clutter is all still there. In fact, there seems to be even more of it, as if while my eyes were shut, my clothes have been secretly jumping out of the drawers and running around on my bed. Everywhere I look, there are huge great tangled piles of… well… stuff. Shoes, boots, Tshirts, magazines… a Body Shop gift basket that was on sale… a Linguaphone Italian course which I’m definitely going to start soon… a facial sauna thingy… And, sitting proudly on my dressing table, a fencing mask and sword which I bought yesterday. Only forty quid from a charity shop!pick up the sword and experimentally give a little lunge toward my reflection in the mirror. It was a real coincidence, because I’ve been meaning to take up fencing for ages, ever since I read this article about it in The Daily World. Did you know that fencers have better legs than any other athletes? Plus, if you’re an expert you can become a stunt double in a film and earn loads of money! So what I’m planning to do is find some fencing lessons nearby, and get really good, which I should think I’ll do quite quickly.then — this is my secret little plan — when I’ve got my gold badge, or whatever it is, I’ll write to Catherine Zeta-Jones. Because she must need a stunt double, mustn’t she? And why shouldn’t it be me? In fact she’d probably prefer someone British. Maybe she’ll phone back and say she always watches my television appearances on cable, and she’s always wanted to meet me! We’ll probably really hit it off, and turn out to have the same sense of humor and everything. And then I’ll fly out to her luxury home, and get to meet Michael Douglas and play with the baby. We’ll be all relaxed together like old friends, and some magazine will do a feature on celebrity best friends and have us in it, and maybe they’ll even ask me to be…

“Hi, Bex!” With a jolt, the happy pictures of me laughing with Michael and Catherine vanish, and my brain snaps into focus. Suze, my flatmate, is wandering into my room, wearing a pair of ancient paisley pajamas, with her blond hair in plaits. “What are you doing?” she asks curiously.

“Nothing!” I say, hastily putting the fencing sword back. “Just… you know. Keep fit.”

“Oh right,” she says vaguely. “So — how’s the packing going?” She wanders over to my mantelpiece, picks up a lipstick, and begins to apply it. Suze always does this in my room — just wanders about picking things up and looking at them and putting them down again. She says she loves the way you never know what you might find, like in a junk shop. Which I’m fairly sure she means in a nice way.

“It’s going really well,” I say. “I’m just deciding which suitcase to take.”

“Ooh,” says Suze, turning round, her mouth half bright pink. “What about that little cream one? Or your red holdall?”

“I thought maybe this one,” I say, hauling my new acid-green shell case out from under the bed. I bought it last weekend, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Wow!” says Suze, her eyes widening. “Bex! That’s fab! Where did you get it?”

“Fenwicks,” I say, grinning broadly. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s the coolest case I’ve ever seen!” says Suze, running her fingers admiringly over it. “So… how many suitcases have you got now?” She glances up at my wardrobe, on which are teetering a brown leather case, a lacquered trunk, and three vanity cases.

“Oh, you know,” I say, shrugging a little defensively. “The normal amount.”suppose I have been buying quite a bit of luggage recently. But the thing is, for ages I didn’t have any, just one battered old canvas bag. Then, a few months ago I had an incredible revelation in the middle of Harrods, a bit like Saint Paul on the road to Mandalay. Luggage. And since then, I’ve been making up for all the lean years.which, everyone knows good luggage is an investment.

“I’m just making a cup of tea,” says Suze. “D’you want one?”

“Ooh, yes please!” I say. “And a KitKat?” Suze grins.

“Definitely a KitKat.”, we had this friend of Suze’s to stay on our sofa — and when he left he gave us this huge box full of a hundred KitKats. Which is such a great thank-you present, but it means all we eat, all day long, is KitKats. Still, as Suze pointed out last night, the quicker we eat them, the quicker they’ll be gone — so in a way, it’s healthier just to stuff in as many as possible right away.ambles out of the room and I turn to my case. Right. Concentrate. Packing. This really shouldn’t take long. All I need is a very basic, pared-down capsule wardrobe for a romantic minibreak in Somerset. I’ve even written out a list, which should make things nice and simple.: two pairs. Easy. Scruffy and not quite so scruffy.:, make that three pairs of jeans. I’ve got to take my new Diesel ones, they’re just so cool, even if they are a bit tight. I’ll just wear them for a few hours in the evening or something.:, and my embroidered cutoffs from Oasis, because I haven’t worn them yet. But they don’t really count because they’re practically shorts. And anyway, jeans hardly take up any room, do they?, that’s probably enough jeans. I can always add some more if I need to.: selection. So let’s see. Plain white, obviously. Gray, ditto. Black cropped, black vest (Calvin Klein), other black vest (Warehouse, but actually looks nicer), pink sleeveless, pink sparkly, pink—stop, halfway through transferring folded-up Tshirts into my case. This is stupid. How am I supposed to predict which Tshirts I’m going to want to wear? The whole point about Tshirts is you choose them in the morning according to your mood, like crystals, or aromatherapy oils. Imagine if I woke up in the mood for my “Elvis Is Groovy” T-shirt and I didn’t have it with me?know, I think I’ll just take them all. I mean, a few Tshirts aren’t going to take up much room. I’ll hardly even notice them.tip them all into my case and add a couple of cropped bra-tops for luck.. This capsule approach is working really well. OK, what’s next?minutes later, Suze wanders back into the room, holding two mugs of tea and three KitKats to share. (We’ve come to agree that four sticks, frankly, doesn’t do it.)

“Here you are,” she says — then gives me a closer look. “Bex, are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” I say, rather pink in the face. “I’m just trying to fold up this insulated vest a bit smaller.”’ve already packed a denim jacket and a leather jacket, but you just can’t count on September weather, can you? I mean, at the moment it’s hot and sunny, but it might well start snowing tomorrow. And what happens if Luke and I go for a really rustic country walk? Besides which, I’ve had this gorgeous Patagonia vest for ages, and I’ve only worn it once. I try to fold it again, but it slithers out of my hands and onto the floor. God, this reminds me of camping trips with the Brownies, trying to get my sleeping bag back into its tube.

“How long are you going for, again?” asks Suze.

“Three days.” I give up trying to squash the vest into the size of a matchbox, and it springs jauntily back to shape. Discomfited, I sink onto the bed and take a sip of tea. What I don’t understand is, how do other people manage to pack so lightly? You see businesspeople all the time, striding onto planes with only a tiny shoe-box suitcase on wheels. How do they do it? Do they have magic shrinking clothes?

“Why don’t you take your holdall as well?” suggests Suze.

“D’you think?” I look uncertainly at my overflowing suitcase. Come to think of it, maybe I don’t need three pairs of boots. Or a fur stole.suddenly it occurs to me that Suze goes away nearly every weekend, and she only takes a tiny squashy bag. “Suze, how do you pack? Do you have a system?”

“I dunno,” she says vaguely. “I suppose I still do what they taught us at Miss Burton’s. You work out an outfit for each occasion — and stick to that.” She begins to tick off on her fingers. “Like… driving outfit, dinner, sitting by the pool, game of tennis…” She looks up. “Oh yes, and each garment should be used at least three times.”, Suze is a genius. She knows all this kind of stuff. Her parents sent her to Miss Burton’s Academy when she was eighteen, which is some posh place in London where they teach you things like how to talk to a bishop and get out of a sports car in a miniskirt. She knows how to make a rabbit out of chicken wire, too.I start to jot some broad headings on a piece of paper. This is much more like it. Much better than randomly stuffing things into a case. This way, I won’t have any superfluous clothes, just the bare minimum.1: Sitting by pool (sunny).Outfit 2: Sitting by pool (cloudy).Outfit 3: Sitting by pool (bottom looks huge in morning).Outfit 4: Sitting by pool (someone else has same swimsuit).Outfit 5:phone rings in the hall, but I barely look up. I can hear Suze talking excitedly — then a moment later, she appears in the doorway, her face all pink and pleased.

“Guess what?” she says. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Box Beautiful has sold out of my frames! They just phoned up to order some more!”

“Oh, Suze! That’s fantastic!” I shriek.

“I know!” She comes running over, and we have a big hug, and sort of dance about, before she realizes she’s holding a cigarette and is about to burn my hair.amazing thing is, Suze only started making photograph frames a few months ago — but already she’s supplying four shops in London, and they’re doing really well! She’s been in loads of magazines, and everything. Which isn’t surprising, because her frames are so cool. Her latest range is in purple tweed, and they come in these gorgeous gray sparkly boxes, all wrapped in bright turquoise tissue paper. (I helped choose the exact color, by the way.) She’s so successful, she doesn’t even make them all herself anymore, but sends off her designs to a little workshop in Kent, and they come back, all made up.

“So, have you finished working your wardrobe out?” she says, taking a drag on her cigarette.

“Yes,” I say, brandishing my sheet of paper at her. “I’ve got it all sorted out. Down to every last pair of socks.”

“Well done!”

“And the only thing I need to buy,” I add casually, “is a pair of lilac sandals.”

“Lilac sandals?”

“Mmm?” I look up innocently. “Yes. I need some. You know, just a nice cheap little pair to pull a couple of outfits together…”

“Oh right,” says Suze, and pauses, frowning slightly. “Bex… weren’t you talking about a pair of lilac sandals last week? Really expensive, from LK Bennett?”

“Was I?” I feel myself flush a little. “I… I don’t remember. Maybe. Anyway—”

“Bex.” Suze gives me a suddenly suspicious look. “Now tell me the truth. Do you really need a pair of lilac sandals? Or do you just want them?”

“No!” I say defensively. “I really need them! Look!”take out my clothes plan, unfold it, and show it to Suze. I have to say, I’m quite proud of it. It’s quite a complicated flow chart, all boxes and arrows and red asterisks.

“Wow!” says Suze. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“At university,” I say modestly. I got my degree in Business and Accounting — and it’s amazing how often it comes in handy.

“What’s this box?” she asks, pointing at the page.

“That’s…” I squint at it, trying to remember. “I think that’s if we go out to some really smart restaurant and I’ve already worn my Whistles dress the night before.”

“And this one?”

“That’s if we go rock-climbing. And this”—I point to an empty box—“is where I need a pair of lilac sandals. If I don’t have them, then this outfit won’t work, and neither will this one… and the whole thing will disintegrate. I might as well not bother going.”is silent for a while, perusing my clothes plan while I bite my lip anxiously and cross my fingers behind my back.know this may seem a little unusual. I know most people don’t run every single purchase past their flatmate. But the fact is, a while ago I kind of made Suze a little promise, which was that I’d let her keep tabs on my shopping. You know. Just keep an eye on things.’t get the wrong idea here. It’s not like I have a problem or anything. It’s just that a few months ago, I did get into a… Well. A very slight money scrape. It was really just a tiny blip — nothing to worry about. But Suze got really freaked out when she found out how much I owed, and said that for my own good, she’d vet all my spending from now on.she’s been as good as her word. She’s very strict, actually. Sometimes I’m really quite scared she might say no.

“I see what you mean,” she says at last. “You haven’t really got a choice, have you?”

“Exactly,” I say in relief. I take the plan from her, fold it up, and put it into my bag.

“Hey, Bex, is that new?” says Suze suddenly. She pulls my wardrobe door open and I feel a twinge of nerves. She’s frowning at my lovely new honey-colored coat, which I smuggled into the flat the other day when she was in the bath.mean, obviously I was planning to tell her about it. I just never got round to it.don’t look at the price tag, I think feverishly. Please don’t look at the price tag.

“Erm… yes,” I say. “Yes, it is new. But the thing is… I need a good coat, in case I get asked to do an outside broadcast for Morning Coffee.”

“Is that likely?” asks Suze, puzzledly. “I mean, I thought your job was just sitting in the studio, giving financial advice.”

“Well… you never know. It’s always best to be prepared.”

“I suppose so…” says Suze doubtfully. “And what about this top?” She pulls at a hanger. “That’s new, too!”

“That’s to wear on the show,” I reply promptly.

“And this skirt?”

“For the show.”

“And these new trousers?”

“For the—”

“Bex.” Suze looks at me with narrowed eyes. “How many outfits have you got to wear on the show?”

“Well — you know,” I say defensively. “I need a few backups. I mean, Suze, this is my career we’re talking about. My career.”

“Yes,” says Suze eventually. “Yes, I suppose it is.” She reaches for my new red silk jacket. “This is nice.”

“I know,” I beam. “I bought it to wear on my January special!”

“Have you got a January special?” says Suze. “Ooh, what’s it about?”

“It’s going to be called Becky’s Fundamental Financial Principles,” I say, reaching for my lip gloss. “It should be really good. Five ten-minute slots, just me!”

“So — what are your fundamental financial principles?” asks Suze interestedly.

“Erm… well, I haven’t really got any yet,” I say, carefully painting my lips. “But you know. I’ll work them out a bit nearer the time.” I snap my lip gloss shut and reach for my jacket. “See you later.”

“OK,” says Suze. “And remember. Just one pair of shoes!”

“All right! I promise!”’s really sweet of Suze to be so concerned about me. But she doesn’t need to be. To be honest, she doesn’t really understand what a changed person I am. OK, I did have a very slight financial crisis earlier this year. In fact, at one point, I was in debt by… Well. Really quite a lot.then I landed my job on Morning Coffee, and everything changed. I turned my life around completely, worked really hard, and paid off all my debts. Yes, I paid them all off! I wrote out check after check — and cleared every single outstanding credit card, every store card, every scribbled IOU to Suze. (She couldn’t believe it when I presented her with a check for several hundred pounds. At first she didn’t want to take it, but then she changed her mind and went out and bought this most amazing sheepskin coat.), paying off those debts was the most wonderful, exhilarating feeling in the world. It was a few months ago now — but I still feel high as I think about it. There’s really nothing to beat being completely and utterly financially solvent, is there?just look at me now. I’m a completely different person from the old Becky. I’m a reformed character. I haven’t even got an overdraft!, OK. I have got a bit of an overdraft. But the only reason is, I’ve been taking the long view recently, and investing quite heavily in my career. Luke, my boyfriend, is an entrepreneur. He’s got his own financial PR company and everything. And he said something a few weeks ago which really made sense to me: “People who want to make a million borrow a million first.”, I must have a naturally entrepreneurial mind or something, because as soon as he said it, I felt this amazing chord of recognition. I even found myself murmuring it aloud. He’s so right. How can you expect to make any money if you don’t spend it first?I’ve invested in quite a few outfits to wear on television — plus a few good haircuts, and quite a few manicures and facials. And a couple of massages. Because everyone knows you can’t perform well if you’re all stressed.’ve also invested in a new computer, which cost £2,000—but is an essential item because guess what? I’m writing a self-help book! Just after I’d become a regular on Morning Coffee, I met these really nice publishers, who took me out to lunch and said I was an inspiration to financially challenged people everywhere. Wasn’t that nice? They paid me £1,000 before I’d even written a word — and I get a lot more when it’s actually published. The book’s going to be called Becky Bloomwood’s Guide to Money. Or possibly Manage Money the Becky Bloomwood Way.haven’t quite had time to start writing it yet, but I really think the most important thing is to get the title right, and then the rest will just fall into place. And I’ve already jotted down loads of ideas about what to wear in the author photograph.basically, it’s no surprise that I’m a little overdrawn at the moment. But the point is, all that money is out there, working for me. And luckily my bank manager, Derek Smeath, is very sympathetic to my needs. He’s a real sweetie, actually. For a long time we didn’t get on at all — which I think was more a communications problem than anything else. But then we met up and had a nice long chat (plus I gave him some advice on what to buy his wife for Christmas) and now I really think he understands where I’m coming from. And the truth is, of course, I’m a lot more sensible than I used to be.example, I have a completely different attitude toward shopping. My new motto is “Buy Only What You Need.” I know, it sounds almost too simple — but it really does work. Before each purchase, I ask myself one question: “Do I need this?” And only if the answer is yes do I make the purchase. It’s all just a matter of self-discipline., for example, when I get to LK Bennett, I’m incredibly focused and direct. As I walk in, a pair of high-heeled red boots catches my eye — but I quickly look away and head straight for the display of sandals. This is how I shop these days: no pausing, no browsing, no eyeing up other items. Not even that gorgeous new range of sequined pumps over there. I simply go straight to the sandals I want, take them from the rack, and say to the assistant, “I’d like to have these in a six, please.”and to the point. Just buy what you need and nothing else. This is the key to controlled shopping. I’m not even going to glance at those cool pink stilettos, even though they’d match my new pink denim skirt perfectly.those slingbacks with the glittery heels.are nice though, aren’t they? I wonder what they look like on?God. This is really hard.is it about shoes? I mean, I like most kinds of clothes, but a good pair of shoes can just reduce me to jelly. Sometimes, when Suze isn’t at home, I open my wardrobe and just stare at all my pairs of shoes, like some mad collector. And once I lined them all up on my bed and took a photograph of them. Which might seem a bit weird — but I thought, I’ve got loads of photos of people I don’t really like, so why not take one of something I really love?

“Here you are!”goodness, the assistant is back, with my lilac sandals in a box — and as I see them, my heart leaps. Oh, these are gorgeous. Gorgeous. All delicate and strappy, with a tiny little blackberry by the toe. I fell in love with them as soon as I saw them. They’re a bit expensive — but then, everyone knows you should never skimp on shoes, because you’ll hurt your feet.slip my feet into them with a frisson of delight — and they’re just fantastic. My feet suddenly look elegant, and my legs look longer… and OK, it’s a tiny bit difficult to walk in them, but that’s probably because the shop floor is all slippery.

“I’ll take them, please,” I say, and beam happily at the assistant.see, this is the reward for taking such a controlled approach to shopping. When you buy something, you really feel as though you’ve earned it.both head toward the checkout, and I keep my eyes carefully away from the rack of accessories. In fact, I barely even notice that purple bag with the jet beading. And I’m just reaching for my wallet, congratulating myself on being so single-minded, when the assistant says conversationally, “You know, we’ve got these sandals in clementine, as well.”?

“Oh… right,” I say after a pause.’m not interested. I’ve got what I came in to buy — and that’s the end of the story. Lilac sandals. Not clementine.

“They’ve just come in,” she adds, rooting around on the floor. “I think they’re going to be even more popular than the lilac.”

“Really?” I say, trying to sound as indifferent as I can. “Well, I’ll just take these, I think…”

“Here it is!” she exclaims. “I knew there was one around here somewhere…”I freeze, as she puts the most exquisite sandal I’ve ever seen onto the counter. It’s a pale, creamy orange color, with the same strappy shape as the lilac one — but instead of the blackberry, there’s a tiny clementine by the toe.’s instant love. I can’t move my eyes away.

“Would you like to try it?” says the girl, and I feel a lurch of desire, right to the pit of my stomach.look at it. It’s delicious. It’s the most darling shoe I’ve ever seen. Oh God.I don’t need a pair of clementine shoes. I don’t need them.on, Becky. Just. Say. No.

“Actually…” I swallow hard, trying to get control of my voice. “Actually…” I can hardly say it. “I’ll just take the lilac ones today,” I manage eventually. “Thank you.”

“OK…” The girl punches a code into the till. “That’ll be £89, then. How would you like to pay?”

“Er… VISA, please,” I say. I sign the slip, take my bag, and leave the shop, feeling slightly numb.did it! I did it! I completely controlled my desires! I only needed one pair of shoes — and I only bought one. In and out of the shop, completely according to plan. You see, this is what I can do when I really want to. This is the new Becky Bloomwood.been so good, I deserve a little reward, so I go to a coffee shop and sit down outside in the sun with a cappuccino.want those clementine shoes, pops into my head as I take the first sip.. Stop it. Think about… something else. Luke. The holiday. Our first ever holiday together. God, I can’t wait.’ve been wanting to suggest a holiday ever since Luke and I started going out, but he works so hard, it would be like asking the prime minister to give up running the country for a bit. (Except come to think of it, he does that every summer, doesn’t he? So why can’t Luke?)’s so busy, he hasn’t even met my parents yet, which I’m a bit upset about. They asked him over for Sunday lunch a few weeks ago, and Mum spent ages cooking — or at least, she bought apricot-stuffed loin of pork from Sainsbury’s and a really posh chocolate meringue pudding. But at the last minute he had to cancel because there was a crisis with one of his clients in the Sunday papers. So I had to go on my own — and it was all rather miserable, to be honest. You could tell Mum was really disappointed, but she kept saying brightly, “Oh well, it was only a casual arrangement,” which it wasn’t. He sent her a huge bouquet of flowers the next day to apologize (or at least, Mel, his assistant, did), but it’s not the same, is it?worst bit was that our next-door neighbors, Janice and Martin, popped in for a glass of sherry “to meet the famous Luke,” as they put it, and when they found out he wasn’t there, they kept giving me all these pitying looks tinged with smugness, because their son Tom is getting married to his girlfriend Lucy next week. And I have a horrible suspicion that they think I have a crush on him. (Which I don’t — in fact, quite the reverse. I actually turned him down when we were teenagers. But once people believe something like that, it’s completely impossible to convince them otherwise. Hideous.)I got upset with Luke, he pointed out that I’ve never met his parents, either. But I have once — although very briefly. And anyway it’s not the same thing, because his family lives miles away, and it’s all much more complicated.be honest, I find Luke’s family setup just a tad weird. He’s got a dad and a stepmum in Britain who brought him up with his two half-sisters, and whom he calls Mum and Dad. And then he’s got his real mum, Elinor, who left his dad when he was little, married some rich American, and left Luke behind. Then she left the rich American and married another, even richer American and then… was there another one? Anyway, the point is, she lives in New York. So of course I haven’t met her. And the rest of his family is in Devon, not exactly handy for a quick Sunday lunch.said all this to Luke and I think he got my point. And at least he’s making the effort to come on this little holiday. It was Mel, actually, who suggested the weekend idea. She told me Luke hadn’t had a proper holiday for three years — and maybe he had to warm up to the idea. So I stopped talking about holidays and started talking about weekends away — and that did the trick! All of a sudden Luke told me to set aside this weekend. He booked the hotel himself and everything. I’m so looking forward to it. We’ll just do nothing but relax and take it easy — and actually spend some time with each other for a change. Lovely.want those clementine shoes.it.take another sip of coffee, lean back, and force myself to survey the bustling street. People are striding along, holding bags and chatting, and there’s a girl crossing the road with nice trousers on, which I think come from Nicole Farhi and… Oh God.middle-aged man in a dark suit is coming along the road toward me, and I recognize him. It’s Derek Smeath, my bank manager., and I think he’s seen me., don’t panic, I instruct myself firmly. There’s no need to panic. Maybe once upon a time I would have been thrown by seeing him. I might have tried to hide behind a menu, or perhaps even run away. But that’s all in the past. These days, Sweetie Smeathie and I have a very honest and amicable relationship., I find myself shifting my chair slightly farther away from my LK Bennett bag, as though it hasn’t got anything to do with me.

“Hello, Mr. Smeath!” I say brightly as he approaches. “How are you?”

“Very well,” says Derek Smeath, smiling. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. Would you… would you like a coffee?” I add politely, gesturing to the empty chair opposite me. And I’m not really expecting him to say yes — but to my astonishment he sits down and picks up a menu.civilized is this? I’m having coffee with my bank manager at a pavement cafe! You know, maybe I’ll find a way to work this into my Morning Coffee slot. “I myself prefer the informal approach to personal finance,” I’ll say, smiling warmly into the camera. “My own bank manager and I often share a friendly cappuccino as we discuss my current financial strategies…”

“As it happens, Rebecca, I’ve just written a letter to you,” says Derek Smeath, as a waitress puts an espresso down in front of him. Suddenly his voice is more serious, and I feel a small lurch of alarm. Oh God, what have I done now? “You and all my customers,” he adds. “To tell you that I’m leaving.”

“What?” I put my coffee cup down with a little crash. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“I’m leaving Endwich Bank. I’ve decided to take early retirement.”

“But…”stare at him, appalled. Derek Smeath can’t leave Endwich Bank. He can’t just leave me in the lurch, just as everything was going so well. I mean, I know we haven’t always exactly seen eye to eye — but recently we’ve developed a really good rapport. He understands me. He understands my overdraft. What am I going to do without him?

“Aren’t you too young to retire?” I say, aware of the dismay in my voice. “Won’t you get bored?”leans back in his chair and takes a sip of espresso. “I’m not planning to give up work altogether. But I think there’s a little more to life than looking after people’s bank accounts, don’t you? Fascinating though some of them have been.”

“Well… yes. Yes, of course. And I’m glad for you, honestly.” I shrug, a little embarrassed. “But I’ll… miss you.”

“Believe it or not,” he says, smiling slightly, “I think I’ll miss you too, Rebecca. Yours has certainly been one of the most… interesting accounts I’ve dealt with.”gives me a penetrating look and I feel myself flush slightly. Why does he have to remind me of the past? The point is, that’s all over. I’m a different person now. Surely one should be allowed to turn over a new leaf and start again in life.

“Your new career in television seems to be going well,” he says, taking a sip of espresso.

“I know! It’s so great, isn’t it? And it pays really well,” I add, a little pointedly.

“Your income has certainly gone up in recent months.” He puts down his coffee cup and my heart sinks slightly. “However…”knew it. Why does there always have to be a however?

“However,” repeats Derek Smeath. “Your outgoings have also risen. Substantially. In fact, your overdraft is now higher than it was at the height of your… shall we say, your excesses.”? That is so mean.

“You really must make more effort to keep within your overdraft limit,” he’s saying now. “Or, even better, pay it off.”

“I know,” I say vaguely. “I’m planning to.”’ve just spotted a girl on the other side of the road, with an LK Bennett bag. She’s holding a great big bag — with two shoe boxes in it.she’s allowed to buy two pairs of shoes, then why aren’t I? What’s the rule that says you can only buy one pair of shoes at a time? I mean, it’s so arbitrary.

“What about your other finances?” Derek Smeath is asking. “Do you have any store card bills, for example?”

“No,” I say with a tinge of smugness. “I paid them all off months ago.”

“And you haven’t spent anything since?”

“Only bits and pieces. Hardly anything.”what’s ninety quid, really? In the greater scheme of things?

“The reason I’m asking these questions,” says Derek Smeath, “is that I feel I should warn you. The bank is restructuring somewhat, and my successor, John Gavin, may not have quite the same relaxed approach which I have taken toward your account. I’m not sure you’re aware quite how lenient I have been with you.”

“Really?” I say, not really listening.mean, suppose I took up smoking. I’d easily spend ninety quid on cigarettes without even thinking about it, wouldn’t I?fact, think of all the money I’ve saved by not smoking. Easily enough to afford one little pair of shoes.

“He’s a very capable man,” Derek Smeath is saying. “But also very… rigorous. Not particularly known for his flexibility.”

“Right,” I say, nodding absently.

“I would certainly recommend that you address your overdraft without delay.” He takes a sip of coffee. “And tell me, have you done anything about taking out a pension?”

“Erm… I went to visit that independent adviser you recommended.”

“And did you fill in any of the forms?”, I drag my attention back to him.

“Well, I’m just considering my options,” I say, and put on my wise, financial-expert look. “There’s nothing worse than rushing into the wrong investment, you know. Particularly when it comes to something as important as a pension.”

“Very true,” says Derek Smeath. “But don’t spend too long considering, will you? Your money won’t save itself.”

“I know!” I say and take a sip of cappuccino.I feel a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should put £90 into a pension fund instead of buying another pair of shoes.on the other hand — what good is a pension fund of £90? I mean, that’s not exactly going to keep me in my old age, is it? Ninety measly quid. And by the time I’m old, the world will probably have blown up, or something.a pair of shoes is tangible, it’s there in your hand…, sod it. I’m going to get them.

“Mr. Smeath, I have to go,” I say abruptly, putting down my cup. “There’s something I have to… do.”have to get back there as quickly as possible. I pick up my carrier bag and drop a fiver on the table. “Lovely to see you. And good luck in your retirement.”

“Best of luck to you too, Rebecca,” says Derek Smeath, smiling kindly at me. “But do remember what I’ve said. John Gavin won’t indulge you in the way that I have. So please be careful with your spending.”

“I will!” I say brightly.without quite running, I’m off down the street, as quick as I can, back to LK Bennett.strictly speaking I didn’t exactly need to buy a pair of clementine shoes. But what occurred to me while I was trying them on was, I haven’t actually broken my new rule. Because the point is, I will need them.all, I will need new shoes at some point, won’t I? Everyone needs shoes. And surely it’s far more prudent to stock up now in a style I really like, than to wait until my last pair wears out and then find nothing nice in the shops. It’s only sensible. It’s like… hedging my future position in the shoe market.I come out of LK Bennett, gleefully grasping my two shiny new bags, there’s a warm, happy glow all around me, and I’m not in the mood to go home. So I decide to pop across the street to Gifts and Goodies. This is one of the shops that carries Suze’s frames, and I have a little habit of going in whenever I pass, just to see if anyone’s buying one.push the door open with a little ping, and smile at the assistant, who looks up. This is such a lovely shop. It’s all warm and scented, and full of gorgeous things like chrome wine racks and etched glass coasters. I sidle past a shelf of pale mauve leather notebooks, and look up — and there they are! Three purple tweed photo frames, made by Suze! I still get a thrill, every time I see them.oh my God! I feel a sudden zing of excitement. There’s a customer standing there, and she’s holding one. She’s actually holding one!be perfectly honest, I’ve never actually seen anyone buying one of Suze’s frames. I mean, I know people must buy them, because they keep selling out — but I’ve never actually seen it happen. This is so exciting!walk quietly forward just as the customer turns the frame over. She frowns at the price, and my heart gives a little flurry.

“That’s a really beautiful photo frame,” I say casually. “Really unusual.”

“Yes,” she says, and puts it back down on the shelf.! I think in dismay. Pick it up again!

“It’s so difficult to find a nice frame these days,” I say conversationally. “Don’t you think? When you find one, you should just… buy it! Before someone else gets it.”

“I suppose so,” says the customer, giving me an odd look.she’s walking away. What can I do?

“Well, I think I’ll get one,” I say distinctly, and pick it up. “It’ll make a perfect present. For a man, or a woman… I mean, everyone needs photograph frames, don’t they?”customer doesn’t seem to be taking any notice. But never mind, when she sees me buying it, maybe she’ll rethink.hurry to the checkout, and the woman behind the till smiles at me. I think she’s the shop owner, because I’ve seen her interviewing staff and talking to suppliers. (Not that I come in here very often, it’s just coincidence or something.)

“Hello again,” she says. “You really like those frames, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say loudly. “And such fantastic value!” But the customer’s looking at a glass decanter, and not even listening.

“How many of them have you bought, now? It must be about… twenty?”? My attention snaps back to the shop owner. What’s she saying?

“Or even thirty?”stare at her in shock. Has she been monitoring me, every time I’ve been in here? Isn’t that against the law?

“Quite a collection!” she adds pleasantly, as she wraps it up in tissue paper.’ve got to say something, or she’ll get the idea that it’s me buying all Suze’s frames instead of the general public. Which is ridiculous. I ask you, thirty! I’ve only bought about… four. Five, maybe.

“I haven’t got that many!” I say hurriedly. “I should think you’ve been mixing me up with… other people. And I didn’t just come in to buy a frame!” I laugh gaily to show what a ludicrous idea that is. “I actually wanted some of… these, too.” I grab randomly at some big carved wooden letters in a nearby basket, and hand them to her. She smiles, and starts laying them out on tissue paper one by one.

“P… T… R… R.”stops, and looks at the letters puzzledly. “Were you trying to make Peter?”for God’s sake. Does there always have to be a reason to buy things?

“Erm… yes,” I say. “For my… my godson. He’s three.”

“Lovely! Here we are then. Two E’s, and take away one R…”’s looking at me kindly, as if I’m a complete halfwit. Which I suppose is fair enough, since I can’t spell Peter and it’s the name of my own godson.

“That’ll be… £48,” she says, as I reach for my purse. “You know, if you spend £50, you get a free scented candle.”

“Really?” I look up with interest. I could do with a nice scented candle. And for the sake of £2…

“I’m sure I could find something…” I say, looking vaguely round the shop.

“Spell out the rest of your godson’s name in wooden letters!” suggests the shop owner helpfully. “What’s his surname?”

“Um, Wilson,” I say without thinking.

“Wilson!” And to my horror, she begins to root around in the basket. “W… L… here’s an O…”

“Actually,” I say quickly, “actually, better not. Because… because… actually, his parents are divorcing and he might be changing his surname.”

“Really?” says the shop owner, and pulls a sympathetic face as she drops the letters back in. “How awful. Is it an acrimonious split, then?”

“Yes,” I say, looking around the shop for something else to buy. “Very. His… his mother ran off with the gardener.”

“Are you serious?” The shop owner’s staring at me, and I suddenly notice a couple nearby listening as well. “She ran off with the gardener?”

“He was… very hunky,” I improvise, picking up a jewelry box and seeing that it costs £75. “She couldn’t keep her hands off him. The husband found them together in the toolshed. Anyway—”

“Goodness me!” says the shop owner. “That sounds incredible!”

“It’s completely true,” chimes in a voice from across the shop.?head whips round — and the woman who was looking at Suze’s frames is walking toward me. “I assume you’re talking about Jane and Tim?” she says. “Such a terrible scandal, wasn’t it? But I thought the little boy was called Toby.”stare at her, unable to speak.

“Maybe Peter is his baptismal name,” suggests the shop owner, and gestures to me. “This is his godmother.”

“Oh, you’re the godmother!” exclaims the woman. “Yes, I’ve heard all about you.”isn’t happening.

“Now, perhaps you can tell me.” The woman comes forward and lowers her voice confidentially. “Did Tim accept Maud’s offer?”look around the silent shop. Everyone is waiting for my answer.

“Erm… yes, he did! Actually, I think I’ll pay by cash.” I fumble in my purse, and plonk £50 on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“What about your scented candle?” says the shop owner. “You can choose from vanilla, sandalwood—”

“Never mind,” I say, hurrying toward the door.

“Wait!” calls the woman urgently. “What happened to Ivan?”

“He… he emigrated to Australia,” I say, and slam the door behind me., that was a bit close. I think I’d better go home.I reach the corner of our road, I pause and do a little rearranging of my bags. Which is to say, I put them all in one LK Bennett carrier, and push them down until you can’t see them. But it’s not that I’m hiding them or anything.’m kind of hoping I’ll be able to scuttle into my room without Suze seeing me, but as I open the front door, she’s sitting on the floor of the hall, parceling something up.

“Hi!” she says. “Did you get the shoes?”

“Yes,” I say brightly. “Absolutely. Right size, and everything.”

“Let’s have a look then!”

“I’ll just… unpack them,” I say casually, and head toward my room, trying to keep relaxed. But I know I look guilty. I’m even walking guiltily.

“Bex,” she says suddenly. “What else is in that bag? That’s not just one pair of shoes.”

“Bag?” I turn as though in surprise. “Oh, this bag. Erm… just a few… bits and pieces. You know… odds and ends…”tail away guiltily as Suze folds her arms, looking as stern as she can.

“Show me.”

“OK, listen,” I say in a rush. “I know I said only one pair. But before you get angry, just look.” I reach into my second LK Bennett bag, slip open the box, and slowly pull out one of the clementine sandals. “Just… look at that.”

“Oh my God,” breathes Suze, staring at it. “That’s absolutely… stunning.” She takes it from me and strokes the soft leather gently — then suddenly her stern expression returns. “But did you need them?”

“Yes!” I say defensively. “Or at least… I was just stocking up for the future. You know, like a kind of… investment.”

“An investment?”

“Yes. And in a way, it’s saving money — because now I’ve got these, I won’t need to spend any money on shoes next year. None!”

“Really?” says Suze suspiciously. “None at all?”

“Absolutely! Honestly, Suze, I’m going to live in these shoes. I won’t need to buy any more for at least a year. Probably two!”is silent and I bite my lip, waiting for her to tell me to take them back to the shop. But she’s looking down at the sandal again, and touching the little clementine.

“Put them on,” she says suddenly. “Let me see!”a small thrill I pull out the other sandal and slip them on — and they’re just perfect. My perfect clementine slippers, just like Cinderella.

“Oh, Bex,” says Suze — and she doesn’t have to say anything else. It’s all there in her eyes., sometimes I wish I could marry Suze.I’ve paraded back and forth a few times, Suze gives a contented sigh, then reaches inside the big carrier for the Gifts and Goodies bag. “So — what did you get from here?” she says interestedly. The wooden letters spill out, and she begins to arrange them on the carpet.

“P-E-T-E-R. You got a present for Peter!”

“Erm… yes,” I say vaguely, grabbing for the Gifts and Goodies bag before she can spot her own frame in there. (She once caught me buying one in Fancy Free and got all cross, and said she would always make me one if I wanted it.) “Who’s Peter?”

“My machinist!” says Suze. “But you’ve never met him!”

“Well… you know. He sounds nice on the phone… anyway, I’d better go and get ready for tomorrow.”

“Ooh, that reminds me,” says Suze, reaching for a piece of paper. “Luke rang for you!”

“Really?” I say, trying to hide my delight. I always get a little thrill when Luke rings, because, to be honest, he doesn’t do it that much. I mean, he phones to arrange times of meeting and that kind of stuff — but he doesn’t often phone for a chat. Sometimes he sends me e-mails, but they’re not what you’d call chatty, more… Well, I don’t exactly want to give away our intimate secrets — but put it like this, the first time I got one, I was quite shocked! (But I sort of look forward to them now.)

“He said he’ll pick you up from the studio tomorrow at twelve. And the Mercedes has had to go into the garage, so you’ll be going down in the MGF.”

“Really?” I say. “That’s so cool!”

“I know,” says Suze, beaming back at me. “Isn’t it great? Oh, and he also said can you pack light, because the boot isn’t very big.”stare at her, my smile fading.

“What did you say?”

“Pack light,” repeats Suze. “You know: not much luggage, maybe one small bag or holdall…”

“I know what ‘pack light’ means!” I say, my voice shrill with alarm. “But… I can’t!”

“Of course you can!”

“Suze, have you seen how much stuff I’ve got?” I say, going to my bedroom door and flinging it open. “I mean, just look at that.”follows my gaze uncertainly, and we both stare at my bed. My big acid-green suitcase is full. Another pile of clothes is sitting beside it. And I haven’t even got to makeup and stuff yet.

“I can’t do it, Suze,” I wail. “What am I going to do?”

“Phone Luke and tell him?” suggests Suze, “and say he’ll have to hire a car with a bigger boot?”a moment I’m silent. I try to imagine Luke’s face if I tell him he has to hire a bigger car to hold my clothes.

“The thing is,” I say at last, “I’m not sure he’d completely understand…”doorbell rings and Suze gets up.

“That’ll be Special Express for my parcel,” she says. “Listen, Bex, it’ll be fine! Just… prune away a few things.” She goes to answer the door and I’m left staring at my jumbled bed.away? But prune away what, exactly? I mean, it’s not as though I’ve packed a load of stuff I don’t need. If I just start removing things at random my whole system will collapse.on. Think laterally. There must be a solution.I could… secretly fix a trailer onto the car when Luke isn’t looking?maybe I could wear all my clothes, on top of each other, and say I’m feeling a bit chilly…, this is hopeless. What am I going to do?, I wander out of my room and into the hall, where Suze is handing a padded envelope to a man in uniform.

“That’s great,” he says. “If you could just sign there… Hello!” he adds cheerfully to me, and I nod back, staring blankly at his badge, which reads: Anything, anywhere, by tomorrow morning.

“Here’s your receipt,” says the man to Suze, and turns to leave. And he’s halfway out of the door, when the words suddenly start jumping about in my mind...tomorrow—

“Hey, wait!” I call, just as the door’s about to slam. “Could you just hold on one sec—”BOOKS LTD

SOHO SQUAREW1 5AS. Rebecca Bloomwood2

Burney Rd.SW6 8FD

September 2000Becky:may remember, when we spoke two weeks ago you assured me the first draft of your book would be with me within days. I’m sure it’s on its way — or has it possibly gotten lost in the post? Maybe you could send me another copy?far as the author photograph goes, just wear whatever you feel comfortable with. An Agnes B top sounds fine, as do the earrings you described. And thanks for sending me a Polaroid of your orange sandals — I’m sure they will look great.look forward to seeing the manuscript — and again, let me say how thrilled and delighted we are that you’re writing for us.all best wishes,BradyBOOKS LTDyou to help yourselfSOON! Jungle Survival by Brig. Roger FlintwoodFIVE TO TWELVE the next day I’m sitting under the bright lights of the Morning Coffee set, wondering how much longer we’ll be. Normally my financial advice slot is over by eleven forty, but they got so engrossed with the psychic who reckons she’s the reincarnated spirit of Mary Queen of Scots that everything’s overrun since then. And Luke will be here any minute, and I’ve still got to change out of this stuffy suit…

“Becky?” says Emma, who’s one of the presenters of Morning Coffee and is sitting opposite me on a blue sofa. “This sounds like quite a problem.”

“Absolutely,” I say, dragging my mind back to the present. I glance down at the sheet in front of me, then smile sympathetically at the camera. “So, to recap, Judy, you and your husband Bill have inherited some money. You’d like to invest some of it in the stock market — but he’s refusing.”

“It’s like talking to a brick wall!” comes Judy’s indignant voice. “He says I’ll lose it all, and it’s his money too, and if all I want to do is gamble it away, then I can go to…”

“Yes,” interrupts Emma smoothly. “Well. This does sound quite a problem, Becky. Two partners disagreeing about what to do with their money.”

“I just don’t understand him!” exclaims Judy. “This is our one chance to make a serious investment! It’s a fantastic opportunity! Why can’t he see that?”breaks off — and there’s an expectant silence around the studio. Everyone’s waiting for my answer.

“Judy…” I pause thoughtfully. “May I ask a question? What outfit is Bill wearing today?”

“A suit,” says Judy, sounding taken aback. “A gray suit for work.”

“What kind of tie? Plain or patterned?”

“Plain,” says Judy at once. “All his ties are plain.”

“Would he ever wear, say… a polka-dot tie?”

“Never!”

“I see.” I raise my eyebrows. “Judy, would it be fair to say Bill is generally quite an unadventurous person? That he doesn’t like taking risks?”

“Well… yes,” says Judy. “Now that you say it, I suppose he is.”

“Ah!” says Rory suddenly, on the other side of the sofa. Rory is the other presenter of Morning Coffee. He’s very chiseled-looking and is great at flirting with film stars, but he’s not exactly the Brain of Britain. “I think I see where you’re going here, Becky.”

“Yes, thanks Rory,” says Emma, rolling her eyes at me. “I think we all do. So Becky, if Bill doesn’t like risk — are you saying he’s right to avoid the stock market?”

“No,” I reply. “Actually, I’m not saying that at all. Because maybe what Bill isn’t quite seeing is that there’s more than one kind of risk. If you invest in the stock market, yes, you risk losing some money in the short term. But if you simply tuck it away in the bank for years and years, an even greater risk is that this inheritance will be eroded over time by inflation.”

“Aha,” puts in Rory wisely. “Inflation.”

“In twenty years’ time, it could well be worth very little — compared to what it would probably have achieved on the market. So if Bill is only in his thirties and wants to make a long-term investment — although it seems risky, it’s in many ways safer to choose a balanced stock market portfolio.”

“I see!” says Emma, and gives me an admiring look. “I would never have looked at it like that.”

“Successful investment is often simply a question of thinking laterally,” I say, smiling modestly.love it when I get the answer right and everyone looks impressed.

“Does that help you, Judy?” says Emma.

“Yes,” says Judy. “Yes, it does! I’ve videotaped this call, so I’ll show it to Bill tonight.”

“Oh right!” I say. “Well, check what kind of tie he’s wearing first.”laughs, and I join in after a pause — though I wasn’t actually joking.

“Time for one more quick call,” says Emma. “And we have Enid from Northampton, who wants to know if she’s got enough money to retire on. Enid, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” comes Enid’s voice down the line. “My husband Tony’s recently retired, and I was on holiday last week — just at home with him, cooking and so forth. And he… we got to thinking… how about I retire early, too? But I wasn’t sure I had enough saved up, so I thought I’d call in.”

“What kind of financial provision have you made for retirement, Enid?” I ask.

“I’ve a pension which I’ve contributed to all my life,” says Enid hesitantly, “and I’ve a couple of savings plans… and I’ve a recent inheritance which should see off the mortgage…”

“Well!” says Emma brightly. “Even I can see that you’re pretty well set up, Enid. I’d say, happy retirement!”

“Right,” says Enid. “I see. So — there’s no reason for me not to retire. It’s just as Tony said.” There’s silence apart from her breathing unsteadily down the line, and Emma gives me a quick glance. I know the producer, Barry, must be yelling into her earpiece to fill the space.

“So good luck, Enid!” she says brightly. “Becky, on the subject of retirement planning—”

“Just… hold on a moment,” I say, frowning slightly. “Enid, there’s no obvious financial reason for you not to retire. But… what about the most important reason of all? Do you actually want to retire?”

“Well.” Enid’s voice falters slightly. “I’m in my fifties now. I mean, you have to move on, don’t you? And as Tony said, it’ll give us a chance to spend more time together.”

“Do you enjoy your job?”’s another silence.

“I do. Yes. It’s a good crowd, at work. I’m older than most of them, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter when we’re having a laugh…”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got time for,” cuts in Emma, who has been listening intently to her earpiece. She smiles at the camera. “Good luck in your retirement, Enid…”

“Wait!” I say quickly. “Enid, please stay on the line if you’d like to talk about this a bit more. OK?”

“Yes,” says Enid after a pause. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“We’re going to go to weather now,” says Rory, who always perks up as the finance slot comes to an end. “But a final word, Becky?”

“Same as always,” I say, smiling at the camera. “Look after your money…”

“… and your money will look after you!” chime in Rory and Emma. After a frozen pause, everyone relaxes and Zelda, the assistant producer, strides onto the set.

“Well done!” she says. “Great stuff. Now, Becky, we’ve still got Enid on line four. But we can get rid of her if you like…”

“No!” I say. “I really want to talk to her. You know, I reckon she doesn’t want to retire at all!”

“Whatever,” says Zelda, ticking something on her clipboard. “Oh, and Luke’s waiting for you at reception.”

“Already?” I look at my watch. “Oh God… OK — can you tell him I won’t be long?”honestly don’t intend to spend that long on the phone. But once I get talking to Enid, it all comes out — about how she’s dreading retirement, and how her husband just wants her at home to cook for him. How she really loves her job and she was thinking about taking a computer course but her husband says it’s a waste of money… By the end I’m completely outraged. I’ve said exactly what I think, several times over, and am in the middle of asking Enid if she considers herself a feminist, when Zelda taps me on the shoulder and suddenly I remember where I am.takes me about another five minutes to apologize to Enid and say I’ve got to go, then for her to apologize to me — and for us both to say good-bye and thank you and don’t mention it, about twenty times. Then, as quickly as possible, I head to my dressing room and change out of my Morning Coffee outfit into my driving outfit.’m quite pleased with my appearance as I look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing: a Pucci-esque multicolored top, frayed denim cutoffs, my new sandals, Gucci shades (Harvey Nichols sale — half price!), and my treasured pale blue Denny and George scarf.’s got a real thing about my Denny and George scarf. When people ask us how we met, he always says, “Our eyes met across a Denny and George scarf,” which is actually kind of true. He lent me some of the money I needed to buy it, and he still maintains I never paid him back so it’s partly his. (Which is so not true. I paid him back straight away.), I tend to wear it quite a lot when we go out together. Also when we stay in together. In fact, I’ll tell you a small secret — sometimes we even…, no. You don’t need to know that. Forget I mentioned it.I eventually hurry into reception I glance at my watch — and oh God, I’m forty minutes late. And there’s Luke sitting on a squashy chair, wearing the gorgeous polo shirt I bought him in the Ralph Lauren sale. He’s talking intently on his mobile phone and sipping a cup of coffee and frowning at something in the paper. But then he looks up and his dark eyes meet mine, and his whole face breaks into a smile. A true, affectionate smile, which makes him seem like a different person.I first knew Luke, I only ever saw him businesslike and polite, or scarily angry, or — very occasionally — amused. Even after we started seeing each other, it was a long time before he really let his guard down. In fact, the first time he really, really laughed, I was so surprised, I snorted lemonade through my nose.now, whenever I see his face creasing into a real smile, I feel a bit of a lift inside. Because I know he’s not like that with everyone. He’s smiling like that because it’s me. For me.

“I’m really sorry I took so long,” I say. “I was just…”

“I know,” says Luke, closing his paper and standing up. “You were talking to Enid.” He gives me a kiss and squeezes my arm. “I saw the last couple of calls. Good for you.”

“You just won’t believe what her husband’s like!” I say as we go through the swing doors and out into the car park. “No wonder she wants to keep working!”

“I can imagine.”

“He just thinks she’s there to give him an easy life.” I shake my head fiercely. “You know, I’m never going to just… stay at home and cook your supper. Never in a million years.”’s a short silence, and I look up to see Luke’s amused expression.

“Or… you know,” I add hastily. “Anyone’s supper.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Luke mildly. “I’m especially glad if you’re never going to cook me Moroccan couscous surprise.”

“You know what I mean,” I say, flushing slightly. “And you promised you weren’t going to talk about that anymore.”famous Moroccan evening was quite soon after we started going out. I really wanted to show Luke that I could cook — and I’d seen this program about Moroccan cooking which made it look really easy and impressive. Plus there was some gorgeous Moroccan tableware on sale in Debenhams, so it should have all been perfect.that soggy couscous. It was the most revolting stuff I’ve ever seen in my life. Even after I tried Suze’s suggestion of stir-frying it with mango chutney. And there was so much of it, all swelling up in bowls everywhere…. Never mind. We had quite a nice pizza in the end.’re approaching Luke’s convertible in the corner of the car park, and he bleeps it open.

“You got my message, did you?” he says. “About luggage?”

“Yes, I did. Here it is.”hand him the dinkiest little suitcase in the world, which I got from a children’s gift shop in Guildford. It’s white canvas with red hearts stenciled round it, and I use it as a vanity case.

“Is that it?” says Luke, looking astonished, and I stifle a giggle. Ha! This’ll show him who can pack light.I’ve got in this case is my makeup and shampoo — but Luke doesn’t need to know that, does he?

“Yes, that’s it,” I say, raising my eyebrows slightly. “You did say, ‘pack light.’ ”

“So I did,” says Luke. “But this—” He gestures at the case. “I’m impressed.”he opens the boot, I get into the driving seat and adjust the seat forward so I can reach the pedals. I’ve always wanted to drive a convertible!boot slams behind me, and Luke comes round, a quizzical look on his face.

“You’re driving, are you?”

“Part of the way, I thought,” I say carelessly. “Just to take the pressure off you. You know, it’s very dangerous to drive for too long.”

“You can drive, can you, in those shoes?” He’s looking down at my clementine sandals — and I have to admit, the heel is a bit high for pedaling. But I’m not going to let him know that. “They’re new, aren’t they?” he adds, looking more closely at them.I’m about to say yes, when I remember that the last time I saw him, I had new shoes on — and the time before that, too. Which is really weird and must be one of those random cluster things.

“No!” I reply instead. “Actually, I’ve had them for ages. Actually…” I clear my throat. “They’re my driving shoes.”

“Your driving shoes,” echoes Luke skeptically.

“Yes!” I say, and start the engine before he can say any more. God, this car is amazing! It makes a fantastic roaring sound, and a kind of screech as I move it into gear.

“Becky—”

“I’m fine!” I say, and slowly move off across the car park into the street. Oh, this is such a fanta

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 748