Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 31

“Now?” Suze looks taken aback. “But I thought you were going to stay for a few days.”

“We’ve got loads to do!” I lift my chin. “Everything’s different for me, too, you know. I’m a married woman now! I’ve got to set up the flat… look after Luke… throw some dinner parties… ”

“Right.” Suze hesitates. “Well, it’s been lovely to see you, anyway.”

“You too! It’s been fun! We must… do it again.”

We sound totally false. Both of us.

There’s silence. My throat is tight. I’m going to cry.

No, I’m not.

“So… I’ll just go and pack,” I say at last. “Thanks for a lovely time.”

I leave the room, pick up my shopping, and walk away. And my bright smile lasts all the way to the stairs.

NETHER PLEATON GYMKHANA

Manor Stables

Pleaton

Hampshire SO20 8EX

Mrs Rebecca Brandon

37 Maida Vale Mansions

Maida Vale

London NW6 0YF

30 April 2003

Dear Mrs Brandon:

Thank you for your letter concerning the Nether Pleaton Gymkhana next month. I confirm that I have withdrawn your name from the following classes:

General Horsemanship

Open Jumping

Senior Dressage

Perhaps you could let me know if you still wish to enter for “Best Kept Pony.”

With kind regards,

Marjorie Davies

Organiser

Seven

ANYWAY. IT DOESN’T matter. People get married and they move on and their friends change. That’s all. It’s perfectly normal. Suze has her life… and I have my life. It’s fine. A week has gone by since the christening — and she’s barely crossed my mind.

I take a sip of orange juice, pick up the Financial Times, which Luke left on the breakfast counter, and begin flicking briskly through the pages.

Now that I’m married, I expect I’ll make loads of new friends, too. It’s not like I’m dependent on Suze or anything. I’ll start an evening class or a book group or something. And my new friends will be really nice ones who don’t ride horses and have children with stupid names like Cosmo…

I take a sip of coffee and plaster some more chocolate spread on my toast. I’m sitting in the kitchen of Luke’s flat in Maida Vale, having a late breakfast.

I mean… our flat in Maida Vale. I keep forgetting, it’s half mine now! Luke lived here for ages before we were married, but when we went to live in New York he had it all done up and rented it out. And it is the trendiest place in the world. All minimalist, with this amazing stainless-steel kitchen, pale beige carpets, and just the odd piece of modern art here and there.

I do like it. Of course I do.

Although, I suppose if I’m totally honest, it’s a tad bare for my taste. Luke has quite a different style from mine when it comes to decorating. His approach is basically “no things anywhere,” whereas mine is more “lots of things everywhere.”

But it doesn’t matter, because I read this article about couples in an interiors magazine, and it said fusing two different styles need not be a problem. Apparently, all we have to do is meld our individual ideas and do some mood boards together and create a signature look.

And today is the perfect day to start. Because any minute now, all our honeymoon purchases are going to be delivered from the storage company! Luke’s stayed behind from work especially to help. It’ll be quite a project, I expect. Which just shows: I’m so busy, I don’t even have time for friends.

I’m feeling really excited about seeing all our souvenirs again! Arranging the little mementos of our honeymoon around the apartment. It’ll really make a difference to this place, having a few personal objets here and there.

“The post’s here,” Luke says, coming into the kitchen. He’s in his suit, since he’ll be going into the office later, and his hair is trimmed all short and businesslike again. He had it cut almost as soon as we got back to London — because, as he said, Italy is one thing, but Britain is another.

I suppose he has a point. But I can’t help feeling a bit wistful every time I see his bare neck. That little untanned patch of skin below his hairline is the only reminder of the way he was on our honeymoon.

“There’s a letter for you,” he adds, handing me an envelope.

“Oh, right!” I take it from him, feeling nervous.

Ever since we got back to London, I’ve been approaching all the big department stores for a job as a personal shopper. I’ve got a great reference from Barneys and everyone’s been really nice to me — but so far all I’m getting told is that there are no openings right now.