the words happy new year 1999.
That is so cool!
“I love kitsch wrapping paper!” I say, admiring it. “Where did you find it?”
“It was free from the bank,” says Jess.
“Oh,” I say in surprise. “Er… excellent!”
I rip off the wrapping and find a plastic box, divided into three compartments.
“Wow!” I exclaim at once. “That’s fantastic! Thank you so much! It’s just what I wanted!” I fling an arm round Jess’s neck and give her a kiss.
“What is it, love?” Mum asks, looking at it with interest.
To be honest, I’m not actually quite sure.
“It’s a food saver,” explains Jess. “You can keep leftovers in it, and they all stay separate. Rice… casserole… whatever. I couldn’t live without mine.”
“That’s brilliant! It’ll be so useful.” I look at the three compartments thoughtfully. “I think I’ll keep all my lip balms in it.”
“Lip balms?” says Jess, clearly taken aback.
“I’m always losing them! Aren’t you?” I put the lid back on and admire it for a few more moments. Then I pick up the wrapping paper and crumple it into a ball.
Jess winces as though someone just trod on her foot.
“You could have folded that up,” she says, and I look at her, puzzled.
Why on earth would I fold used wrapping paper?
But then, maybe this is one of her pet habits that I’ll have to get used to. We all have little quirks.
“Oh, right!” I say. “Of course. Silly me!”
I uncrease the crumpled paper, smooth it out, and fold it carefully into quarters.
“There we are.” With a cheerful smile I drop it in the wastepaper bin. “Let’s go!”
Eleven
IT ONLY TAKES fifteen minutes by car to get to Kingston, which is the nearest big shopping center to Mum and Dad. I find a meter, and after about twenty attempts manage to park the car vaguely in a straight line. Jess sits stoically beside me in the passenger seat, saying nothing. Not even when the lorry driver starts hooting at me.
Anyway, never mind. The point is, we’re here! It’s a fantastic day, sunny but not too warm, with tiny clouds scudding across the blue sky. As I get out, I look around the sunlit street, feeling all buzzy with anticipation. My first shopping trip with my sister! What shall we do first?
As I start to feed the parking meter, I go through all the options in my head. We should definitely get a free makeover, and check out that new underwear shop Mum was talking about…
“How long exactly are we planning to stay here?” Jess asks as I shove in my sixth pound coin.
“This should take us up to six o’clock… and after that, parking’s free!”
“Six o’clock?” She looks a bit stunned.
“Don’t worry!” I say reassuringly. “The shops don’t close at six. They’ll be open till at least eight.”
And we have to go into a department store, and try on lots of evening dresses. One of my best times ever was when I spent a whole afternoon trying on posh dresses in Harrods with Suze. We kept putting on more and more outrageous million-pound frocks, and swooshing around, and all the snooty assistants got really annoyed and kept asking had we made our choice yet?
At last Suze said she thought she had… but she wanted to see it with a Cartier diamond tiara just to make sure, and could Jewelry possibly send one up?
I think that’s when they asked us to leave.
God, Suze and I used to have fun together. She is just the best person in the world for saying “Go on! Buy it!” Even when I was stone broke, she’d say “Buy it! I’ll pay! You can always pay me back.” And then she’d buy one too, and we’d go and have a cappuccino.
But anyway. There’s no point getting all nostalgic.
“So!” I turn to Jess. “What do you feel like doing first? There are loads of shops here: two department stores…”
“I hate department stores,” says Jess. “They make me feel ill.”
“Oh, right.” That’s fair enough. Loads of people hate department stores.
“Well, there are lots of boutiques too. In fact, I’ve just thought of the perfect place!”
I lead her off the main high street, away from the pedestrianized shopping precinct, and turn left down a cobbled side road. As we walk, I hitch my Angel bag higher on my shoulder, admiring its reflection in a shop window across the street. That bag was worth every single penny.
I’m slightly surprised Jess hasn’t said anything about it, actually. If my sister had an Angel bag, it would be the first thing I’d mention. But then, maybe she’s trying to be all cool and blase.
“So… where do you normally shop?” I ask.
“Wherever’s cheapest,” replies Jess.
“Me too! I got the most fab Ralph Lauren top at this designer outlet in Utah. Ninety percent off!”
“I tend to do a lot of bulk buying,” says Jess with a little frown. “If you buy large enough quantities, you can get pretty good savings.”
Oh my God. We are totally on the same wavelength. I knew we would be!
“You are so right!” I exclaim in delight. “That’s what I keep trying to explain to Luke! But he just can’t see the logic.”
“So, do you belong to a warehouse club?” Jess looks at me with interest. “Or a food co-op?”
A food co-op?
“Er… no. But on my honeymoon, I did loads of excellent bulk buying! I bought forty mugs and twenty silk dressing gowns!”
“Silk dressing gowns?” echoes Jess, looking taken aback.
“They were such an investment! I told Luke it made financial sense, but he just wouldn’t listen… OK! Here we are! This is it.”
We’ve arrived at the glass doors of Georgina’s. It’s a big, light boutique selling clothes, jewelry, and the most gorgeous bags. I’ve been coming here since I was twelve, and it’s one of my favorite shops in the world.
“You are going to love this shop,” I say to Jess happily, and push the door open. Sandra, one of the assistants, is arranging a collection of beaded purses on a pedestal, and she looks up as the door pings. Her face lights up immediately.
“Becky! Long time no see! How was the honeymoon?”
“Great, thanks!”
“And how’s married life treating you?” She grins. “Had your first big bust-up yet?”
“Ha-ha,” I say, grinning back. I’m about to introduce Jess, when Sandra shrieks.
“Oh my God! Is that an Angel bag? Is it real?”
“Yes,” I glow. Owning an Angel bag is just total bliss.
“I don’t believe it. She’s got an Angel bag!” Sandra calls out to the other two assistants. They rush to the front of the shop, gasping, “Can I touch it? Where did you get it?”
“Milan.”
“Only Becky Bloomwood.” Sandra’s shaking her head. “Only Becky Bloomwood would walk in here with an Angel bag. So how much did that cost you?”
“Er… enough!”
“Wow.” She strokes it gingerly. “It’s absolutely… amazing.”
