Mini Shopaholic (11 page)

Authors: Sophie Kinsella

‘What do you expect me to do?’ exclaims Mum indignantly. ‘Survive on one miserable jar of cut-price goo made out of food-colouring and turnips?’

‘Maybe! Maybe we should be shopping at some of those lower-priced stores. We’re pensioners, Jane. We can’t afford to live the high life any more.’

‘It’s
coffee
,’ says Mum. ‘Those whatsit capsules of Becky’s. Nexpresso.’

‘Yes!’ Dad suddenly wakes up. ‘I utterly agree. Overpriced waste of money. How much is each one?’

They both turn and stare accusingly at me.

‘I need good coffee!’ I say in horror. ‘It’s my only luxury!’

I can’t live with my parents
and
drink bad coffee. It’s not humanly possible.

‘If you ask me, it’s the TV,’ I throw back at them. ‘You have it on too loud. It’s wasting energy.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ retorts Mum tartly.

‘Well, it’s
not
coffee!’

‘I think we could cut out all jam, starting tomorrow,’ Dad is saying. ‘All jam, all spreads—’

‘Well, if we’re going to do that, I’ll cut out food, shall I?’ retorts Mum shrilly. ‘I’ll just cut out all food, Graham, because that’s obviously a waste of money too—’

‘Anyway, Nespresso is a million times cheaper than going to a coffee shop,’ I’m trying to point out. ‘And you don’t even pay for it, I buy it myself on the internet! So—’

We’re all so busy arguing, it’s a while before I realize that Luke is in the doorway, watching, his mouth twitching at the edges in amusement.

‘Oh hi!’ I leap up, relieved to escape. ‘How’s it going? Are you OK?’

‘Fine.’ He nods. ‘I just popped up to say goodnight to Minnie. She was asleep.’ He smiles ruefully and I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He hardly ever sees Minnie these days.

‘She took all her toys to bed again,’ I tell him. ‘Including her dolls’ house.’

‘Again?’ He laughs.

Minnie’s latest trick is to get out of bed after I’ve said goodnight, gather all her toys and take them back to bed with her, so there’s barely any room for her. I went up earlier this evening and found her fast asleep, clasping her wooden pony, with about twenty soft toys and her dolls’ house all on top of the duvet, crowding her out of bed.

‘Luke!’ Mum finally notices him and stops mid-flow through a tirade about how Dad never even has toast for breakfast so what does he know? ‘We were just discussing the situation.’

‘Situation?’ He raises his eyebrows at me in query.

‘We’re all trying to think of ways to save money,’ I explain, hoping Luke might say, ‘What a ludicrous idea, everything’s on the up, let’s crack open some champagne.’

But he just nods thoughtfully. ‘That’s not a bad idea, the way things are going.’

‘But how
are
things going?’ Mum demands shrilly. ‘Luke, you know. Is the
Daily World
right or wrong? Because I heard a chap on the radio and he said there would be a domino effect. And we’re the dominoes!’

‘No, we’re not.’ Dad raises his eyes to heaven. ‘The
banks
are the dominoes.’

‘Well, what are we, then?’ Mum glares at him. ‘The dice?’

‘Jane,’ Luke interrupts tactfully. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear in the media. There are some extreme views out there. The truth is, it’s still too early to call. What I
can
say is, confidence has plummeted and there’s a lot of panic. Not just in banking, in every sector. Whether it’s justified … that’s the question.’

I can tell Mum’s not satisfied.

‘But what do the
experts
say?’ she persists.

‘Luke
is
an expert!’ I chime in, indignantly.

‘Economic gurus aren’t fortune-tellers, unfortunately.’ Luke shrugs. ‘And they don’t always agree. What I would say is, it’s never a bad idea to be prudent.’

‘Absolutely.’ Dad nods approvingly. ‘That’s what I was saying. Our spending has got quite out of hand, Jane, crisis or no crisis. Four pounds, this cost!’ He waves the jar of gooseberry jam. ‘Four
pounds
!’

‘Very well.’ Mum glares at Dad. ‘From now on, I’ll only shop at the pound shop. Will that make you happy, Graham?’

‘Me too!’ I say supportively

I’ve never actually been to a pound shop, but they’ve got to be good. I mean, everything only costs a quid, for a start.

‘My darling, we’re not quite that penurious.’ Luke kisses me on the forehead. ‘The easiest way
we
could save money, if you ask me, would be if you wore some of your clothes more than once.’

Not this again.

‘I
do
wear them more than once,’ I say crossly. ‘You always exaggerate—’

‘How often have you worn that cardigan with the red button?’ he asks innocently.

‘It’s … I’ve …’ I stop, a bit stymied.

Damn
. Why haven’t I worn it? I don’t even know where it is. Did I leave it somewhere?

‘A hundred times, wasn’t it?’ Luke looks as though he’s enjoying this. ‘Isn’t that what you said?’

‘I’m
intending
to wear it a hundred times,’ I say stonily. ‘I didn’t specify exactly when.’

‘How many clothes have you got, anyway, stashed away in your cupboards?’

‘I … er …’

‘Do you have
any
idea?’

‘Too many,’ snorts Dad. ‘Are we going to count the boots cluttering up my garage?’

‘Any idea at all?’ persists Luke.

‘I don’t … It’s not …’ I trail off in confusion.

What kind of question is that, anyway, ‘How many clothes have you got?’ It’s totally unreasonable.

‘How many clothes have
you
got?’ I retort, and Luke thinks for about one micro-second.

‘Nine suits, some too old to wear now. Around thirty shirts. Fifty or so ties. I should cull some. Evening wear. I don’t need to shop for another year, except for socks.’ He shrugs again. ‘And I won’t. Not in the current climate. I don’t think it would send the right signals to turn up to work in a new bespoke suit.’

Trust Luke to have an answer.

‘Well, you’re a
man
. It’s different. I work in fashion, remember?’

‘I know,’ he says mildly. ‘My only point is that if you wore each of your clothes, say, three times, before buying anything new, your clothes bill might go down.’ He shrugs. ‘You said you wanted ideas to save money.’

I didn’t want
those
kind of ideas. I wanted ideas involving things I’m not interested in, like petrol or insurance. But now I’m a bit stuffed.

‘Fine!’ I fold my arms. ‘I’ll wear every single item in my wardrobe three times before I even think of going shopping again. Satisfied?’

‘Yes.’ He flashes me a smile. ‘And I’m giving up my car plans. Just for now.’

‘Really?’

‘Like I say. It’s not the moment.’

Now I feel a bit humbled. Luke was planning to get a new car as a celebration as soon as the Arcodas case was over. It was, like, the prize. We’d gone for a test drive in one, and everything.

Well, I suppose if he can do that, I can wear my clothes three times before I go shopping again. It’s not such a hardship.

Anyway, I probably haven’t got
that
many. I try to visualize my wardrobe. I mean, it’s just a few tops and jeans and dresses, isn’t it? And a few things crammed in at the back. I’ll get through them all in a couple of weeks.

‘We’ll still be able to buy clothes for Minnie, won’t we?’ I look up in sudden alarm. ‘And she can still have her pocket money?’

I’ve got quite used to Minnie having pocket money when we’re out and about. She spent another six months’ advance in the Bambino sale and got the most
gorgeous
half-price sparkly wellingtons. Plus it’s teaching her financial planning, because I’ve got it all written down in a book.

‘Of course Minnie can have her pocket money!’ Luke laughs. ‘And if she needs new clothes, she needs them. She’s a growing girl.’

‘Fine,’ I say, trying not to feel envious.

It’s all right for children. I wish
I
grew out of all my stuff every three months and had to replace it all.

‘Anyway, Becky, I thought the Bloomwood style was Make More Money.’ Luke breaks into my thoughts. He pulls out a chair and pours himself a glass of wine. ‘Maybe you could go back to work full-time, now we’re getting a nanny.’

Aargh! No! It’s as though he’s fired a shot into the air with no warning; in fact I feel myself physically recoil. Why did he have to mention the word ‘nanny’, just like that with no preamble? I was going to soften Mum up first, maybe via general chit-chat about au pairs.

‘Nanny?’ Mum’s voice is instantly sharp. ‘What nanny? What are you talking about?’

She manages to make ‘nanny’ sound like ‘serial killer’.

I hardly dare look at her.

‘We just thought … it might be a good idea, to try and get some expert help …’ I cough. ‘I mean …’

‘Minnie’s spoiled,’ puts in Luke flatly. ‘She needs some structure and regulations.’

Mum looks mortally offended.

‘She’s not spoiled by
you
, Mum, obviously,’ I add hurriedly. ‘It’s just … they have these amazing people called Ultimate Nannies who help to raise a well-balanced, accomplished child. They’re qualified in martial arts and everything.’

‘Martial
arts?’
echoes Mum incredulously. ‘What does she need martial arts for, poor little love?’

‘And they’re trained in routines and child development …’ I glance desperately at Luke for support.

‘We think it’s what Minnie needs,’ says Luke firmly. ‘We’re going to interview some candidates next week and I’m sure we’ll all get along marvellously.’

‘Well.’ Mum seems lost for words. ‘Well.’ She takes a swig of wine. ‘I see. Everything’s changing.’

‘Well, of course, arrangements would have had to change substantially anyway,’ begins Luke, ‘bearing in mind that we’ll be— Oof!’ He breaks off as I kick him hard on the ankle and glare at him.

Does he have
no
tact? Is he just going to blurt out everything, right here, right now?

We
can’t
tell Mum we’re moving out. Not on top of everything else. It’ll be the final straw. It’ll destroy her. She’ll sink into depression and probably spiral into some kind of breakdown.

‘What?’ Mum looks beadily from face to face. ‘Bearing in mind you’ll be what?’

‘Nothing!’ I say quickly. ‘Um, shall we go and watch telly?’

‘Becky?’ I can see Mum’s face working with alarm. ‘What is it? What aren’t you telling me?’

Oh God, now I’m torn. If we don’t tell her the truth she’ll think something really awful’s happened. And after all, it is a family conference. Maybe this is the right time to break the news.

‘OK.’ I take a deep slurp of wine for courage. ‘Here’s the thing, Mum. Luke and I have found a lovely family house in Maida Vale. And we’ve had an offer accepted. And this one looks like it’s really going ahead. Which means we’ll be …’ I take a deep breath, hardly able to say it. ‘Mum, we’re moving out.’

There’s a stunned, disbelieving silence in the room. No one seems able to speak.

I shoot an agonized look at Luke. This is awful. I knew it would be bad, but I never thought it would be this bad.

‘You’re … going?’ Mum says at last, her voice cracking slightly. ‘You’re actually leaving us?’

She’s devastated. It’s obvious. I can already feel the tears rising inside.

‘Yes, we’re going. In about four weeks’ time, probably.’ I swallow, my throat tight. ‘We have to have our own space. You must understand that, Mum. But we’ll come and visit loads, and you’ll still see Minnie, I promise, and—’

Mum doesn’t seem to be listening.

‘They’re going! They’re
going!’
She grabs Dad’s arm. ‘Did you hear that, Graham?’

Hang on. She doesn’t sound
that
devastated. In fact, she sounds … delighted.

‘Is this true?’ Dad narrows his eyes.

‘Looks like it.’ Luke nods.

‘We can start having dinner parties again,’ says Mum breathlessly. ‘We can use the table! We can have guests to stay!’

‘I can use my workshop,’ Dad chimes in faintly. ‘At last.’

‘I’ll get my wardrobe back! And the utility room!’ Mum seems almost giddy with excitement. ‘Oh, Graham!’ To my astonishment she plants a kiss on Dad’s cheek. ‘I have to call Janice and tell her the good news!’

Good news?
What about the empty-nest syndrome? What about spiralling into depression?

‘But you said you didn’t want us to go!’ I say indignantly. ‘You said you were relieved those other houses fell through because you would have missed us so much!’

‘We were
lying
, love!’ says Mum merrily. ‘We didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Hello, it’s me, Janice!’ She turns to her mobile. ‘They’re going! Yes! Four weeks! Tell the others!’

OK. Now I really am offended. Has the whole
neighbourhood
been waiting for us to go?

Becky Brandon (Née Bloomwood)
Official Clothes Audit
PAGE 3 (OF 15)

Jeans
(cont’d)