Extract 4

OK, so perhaps strictly speaking I didn’t need to buy a pair of Clementine shoes. They weren’t exactly essential. 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.

After 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.

As I come out of LK Bennett, happily grasping my two shiny new bags, there’s a warm, happy glow all around me. I’m not in the mood for going home, so I decide to pop across the street to Gifts and Goodies. This is one of the shops that stocks Suze’s frames and I have a little habit of going in whenever I pass, just to see if anyone’s buying one.

I push the door open with a ping, and smile at the assistant, who looks up. This is such a lovely shop. It’s warm and scented, and full of gorgeous things like chrome wire racks and glass etched 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 zing of excitement. There’s a customer standing there – and she’s holding one. She’s actually holding one!

To 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 seen it happen. God, this is exciting!

I 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.

No! 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, picking up a paper­weight and frowning at that, too.

Now 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?’

The customer doesn’t seem to be taking any notice. But never mind, when she sees me buying it, maybe she’ll rethink.

I 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 these 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?’

What? My attention snaps back to the shop owner. What’s she saying?

‘Or even thirty?’

I 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.

I’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.’

She stops, and looks at the letters puzzledly. ‘Were you trying to make “Peter”?’

Oh 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 Es, and take away the R...’

She’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 two pounds...

‘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 О...’

‘Actually,’ I say quickly, ‘actually, better not. Because... because... his parents are divorcing and he might be going to change 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 jewellery box and seeing that it costs £75. ‘She couldn’t keep her hands off him. The husband found them together in the tool shed. Anyway–‘

‘Goodness me!’ says the shop owner. ‘That sounds incredible!’

‘It’s completely true,’ chimes in a voice from across the shop.

What?

My head whips round – and the woman who was looking at Suze’s frames is walking towards 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.’

I stare at her, unable to speak.

‘Maybe Peter is his baptismal name,’ suggests the shop owner, and gestures to me, ‘This is his god-mother.’

‘Oh you’re the godmother!’ exclaims the woman, ‘Yes, I’ve heard all about you.’

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

‘Now, perhaps you can tell me.’ The woman comes forward and lowers her voice confidentially. ‘Did Tim accept Maud’s offer?’

I look around the silent shop. Everyone is waiting for my answer.

‘Yes he did,’ I say carefully. ‘He did accept.’

‘And did it work out?’ she asks, staring at me agog.

‘Um... no. He and Maud actually... they... they had a fight.’

‘Really?’ The woman lifts a hand to her mouth. ‘A fight? What about?’

‘Oh, you know,’ I say desperately. This and that... the washing up... erm, 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 towards the door.

‘Wait!’ calls the woman urgently. ‘What happened to Ivan?’

‘He... emigrated to Australia,’ I say, and slam the door behind me.

God, that was a bit close. I think I’d better go home.