How Not To Shop

by Carmen Reid

  'Ah, can't do that!' Bob wagged a finger at her. 'It's never as convincing as the first time.'

  'Oh rubbish,' she argued, 'I bet you do it all the time.'

  Annie turned her attention back to Cath. She was wandering through the shop, looking at the shoes in confusion. There were all sorts of new colours, shapes, heels and designs here. Everything was obviously so different from the last time Cath had gone shoe shopping with nothing but price and practicality on her mind.

  'Keep looking,' Annie urged, 'there will be something you like here. Really, just let me know if anything catches your eye, because then we can get a clue as to what kind of things you're into. Your love muscle,' she added with a cheeky wink, 'it's all about building up your love muscle. It's obviously not had nearly enough exercise lately.'

  Even Cath had to giggle at this.

  Three-quarters of the way through Cath's third tour of the shop and Annie saw it – Cath reached up and from a display high above the shop floor she brought down a pair of cherry red, patent leather loafers.

  She watched Cath turn the loafers over in her hands, with a pleased fascination on her face.

  Quickly Annie turned to the shop assistant hovering by her side, eager to appear on television. 'OK, I need the red loafers in a size six and everything else you've got in red patent in that size.'

  After only a little arm-twisting, Annie had Cath striding up and down the shop in the loafers, a look of obvious satisfaction on her face.

  'OK, we're taking them,' Annie told her.

  'No!' Cath protested, 'I've got nothing to wear with them.'

  'We'll go and find you a snazzy little red jacket and maybe a red bag. Maybe a shiny red, waterproof, non-anorak coat. Don't you love them?' Annie had to ask.

  'Yes,' Cath confessed shyly.

  'Well then. You're having them. That's final.' Annie had long ago forgotten all about the camera pointing in their faces. 'Anyway, they're a whole lot nicer than those – ' she pointed down at the sorry, bashed-up black slip-ons Cath had worn for the shopping session. Imitating Svetlana's rich accent, she intoned: 'Bin bag!'

  'Now my darlin', you obviously have an unexpressed urge for shiny red, so what do we think of these?'

  Annie carefully opened the lid and unwrapped the tissue paper from a gorgeous little pair of patent red Mary Janes. She knew there would be no persuading comfortable Cath into a pair of mincey high heels, but she hoped that this dressy little pair might stand something of a chance.

  'Oh! Well . . .' Cath looked at the shoes with surprise as if she couldn't possibly consider something so pretty.

  'Just try,' Annie wheedled.

  And before Cath could protest, her black socks were off, pop socks were on and she was showing off her tiny white ankles in the dainty shoes.

  'Walk,' Annie commanded.

  Bob knelt down at the side of the shop to capture Cath's uncertain steps.

  'Don't even try and tell me you don't like them,' Annie said. Cath was walking, pausing and taking long looks in the mirror.

  'How do they fit?'

  'Really well.'

  'They will go with trousers, jeans, skirts, dresses,' Annie wheedled, 'and they're on us, remember. You don't need to think about how you could be saving the money instead.'

  Cath looked at her feet in the mirror for a good long minute.

  'Repeat after me,' Annie began, 'I love them.'

  Bob's camera zoomed in on Cath's face, but she still managed to repeat shyly: 'I love them.'

  'And once again, with feeling,' Annie teased.

  'I love them!' Cath said, shooting Annie a smile, then colouring up.

  'Stop feeling so guilty! Everyone has to wear shoes,' Annie reminded her. 'Might as well wear nice ones and, babes – they only cost forty-five pounds!'

  Annie did find this sobering. She'd stopped buying shoes on the high street about a year ago and had to confess, 'Do you have any idea how much I blew on these?' She pointed down at her lavish boots: 'a large chunk of my kids' inheritance.'

  The red loafers and the shiny shoes were wrapped and rung up, Annie paying from the envelope with the £250 in cash she'd been given by Finn this morning.

  'No company credit card?' she'd asked in surprise.

  'You think I'd let you loose with a company credit card?' he'd replied. 'We're still paying off the bill my wife racked up when she came to visit you in The Store.'

  'Ah yes.' Annie remembered very well the day when Kelly-Anne had put herself in the hands of the personal shopping suite and come out several thousand pounds lighter. And then there was her hair. There had been a sort of hair accident and Kelly-Anne had ended up having to cut her hair . . . by two whole feet.

  Shopping for Cath's dress was never going to be easy. Annie was at the mercy of the high street with an insecure, size 16, highly body conscious client and a grand budget now down to £155. If she'd been back at The Store and had limitless money to spend, she would have known exactly how to solve this problem: with the Italian labels which swathed the more curvaceous mama in carefully cut taffeta with boning, structure and cleverly chosen colours.

  After the shoe success, there followed a very dispiriting session in the Wallis changing room. Cath, in front of the mirror, was mentally listing her defects, Annie could tell. She had seen that look on so many faces before. It began at the top with: 'I hate my hair, I hate my saggy eyes, I hate my neck, shoulders and cleavage,' and it carried all the way down to: 'I hate my knobbly knees, ankles and hideous toes.'

  In John Lewis it was worse, and Annie could see Bob deleting their footage. His brief was: happy woman, made-over, breathless with astonishment at how amazing she now looks.

  Then Finn phoned.

  'Hi, how's it going?' he asked Annie. 'Have you turned our pumpkin into a princess yet?'

  Annie frowned at the casual cruelty of the remark before answering, 'Well . . . yes, I think we're getting there,' as cheerfully as she could, while she watched Cath turn about in front of the mirror in a totally hopeless dress which really would be put to better use sheltering the homeless or something.

  'I can't wait to see what you've come up with!' Finn said excitedly. 'OK, we'll meet you in the Starbucks on the lower mall at 3 p.m. for a catch-up and a quick look through the footage.'

  'I thought we had all day,' Annie said, glancing at her watch and seeing it was already 1.50 p.m.

  'All day filming,' Finn told her, 'not all day shopping. There's a bit of a difference, Annie!'

  As soon as she'd shut her mobile, Annie knew she would have to take action fast. 'OK, Cath, out of that,' she commanded briskly. 'Don't blame yourself, love, blame that sorry sack of a dress. I need to do some research. And quickly.'

  A moment later and Annie was texting Paula, her ex-assistant. Yes, Paula was six-foot-something and built like a pole vaulter on a diet, but she had a sister, Jamilia. As curvaceous as she was vivacious, Jamilia was also a very fashionable woman on a small budget.

  It took only a few more minutes for Jamilia herself to text back the reply to Annie's frantic question: 'Where buy hot dresses sz 16 on hi street?'

  Here on her phone screen were the magical words: 'Coast, Dthy Prkns.'

  'All right, we're off,' Annie instructed and tucked Cath's arm firmly under hers once again.

  Cath wasn't allowed to wander round Dorothy Perkins, because time was now seriously limited. Instead, she was planted in the changing room with the curtains pulled firmly shut against the camera lenses.

  Then Annie scoured the shop floor: every rack and every dress, like the true professional she was.

  Finally, she pulled out something with serious potential. It was structured and black with three-quarter-length lace sleeves, so Cath wouldn't feel too exposed.

  Annie didn't personally like black. Black was boring. Black was just so black. But Cath wore so much pastel, wishy-washy and beige, that Annie couldn't help feeling black would be a dramatic change. Plus, black was good with red patent.

  'OK
girl, I think we could have a serious contender here,' Annie said passing the dress into the cubicle. 'Put it on while I go in search of accessories.'

  'Oh!' was the surprised comment from the other side of the curtain. But Annie didn't stop to listen, just buzzed over to the accessories section.

  The glitzy, the chunky, the unusual – all the necklaces she could have wanted were out here at just the sort of money she was looking to spend.

  She headed back to the changing room with a selection of beads, bags and bracelets, eager to see how the dress was working.

  'C'mon,' she said to Bob, 'fire up! I have a good feeling about this one.'

  'Are you ready?' Annie asked from outside the changing-room curtain.

  'Yes . . . I think so,' came the reply.

  At that Annie pulled aside the curtain with Bob right beside her, already filming.

  'Oh yes!' she declared immediately. 'Yes, yes, yes!! Put on the shoes, we have to have the full effect.'

  For a few moments Annie helped to make adjustments. The red patent Mary-Janes went on, then a necklace of silver and black leaves and finally Annie popped a glittery silver clutch into Cath's hand.

  'Well?' she asked as Cath turned this way and that, coyly looking at her reflection.

  The dress fitted well; Annie just pulled in the back a little with her hand to show Cath how a minor alteration would make it perfect. Cath herself looked different. Finally they had found a dress that seemed to pull her up, lift and lengthen her. Her shoulders were back for the first time today, her head was up, she already looked inches slimmer. The lace brought all the focus to her soft, white throat and cleavage, her dainty hands and wrists. This was just as Annie had planned. The draped skirt quietened down the troublesome tum, bum and hams.

  'What I want to do . . .' Annie began, coming up behind her so they could look in the mirror together, 'is put you in the hands of a very nice hairdresser I know who will straighten, lengthen and darken your hair.'

  She pulled one of Cath's dull blonde-grey curls out, revealing several inches of length. 'Time to bring you bang up to date and bring out your inner artist,' Annie added with a smile. 'Darker hair with your pale skin . . . And you know, I don't like this bag, or the necklace,' Annie decided, taking both of them from Cath, who didn't protest.

  'You know what I love with red? Violet . . . Stay right there, take a long look at your lovely, luscious self and I will be right back with violet.'

  Clipping on vibrant violet beads, which made the blue in Cath's eyes sparkle, and pressing a sassy little violet bag into her hand, Annie couldn't help uttering a 'da-nah!' of triumph. 'What do you think?' she asked Cath, meeting her eyes eagerly.

  'I think . . . I think the dress is really pretty,' Cath confided. There was a smile threatening to break across her face. 'But I don't feel at home in it.'

  She wriggled her shoulders uncomfortably and smoothed the dress with her hands.

  'At home? No!' Annie said with a hint of exasperation, 'you are not supposed to feel at home in it. Is this a sweatshirt and a pair of jogging trousers? No, it is not! I don't want you to feel at home. I don't want you to be at home! You are one hot, juicy mama and we are taking you out to shake your booty.'

  'But I don't want to go out,' Cath whined.

  'Oh dear, oh dear,' Annie began, 'you've lost a lot, babes. You've lost your man, your boy's growing up, your baby blonde hair's gone, and probably your old waistline too. If you sit around at home and wait, you'll probably lose lots more: your relatives, your friends and finally everything else. Depressed yet?' she winked: 'you should be! There's only one cure for this – you have to get out there and get some new things to replace the old. New friends, new lovers, new hobbies, new interests, new people and yes, for pete's sake, some new clothes!

  'Now at least if you're invited to a party, you can say yes . . . because you've got something to wear,' Annie exclaimed.

  The dress, the bag and the necklace were bought. Grand total: £102.97. Annie was now itching to take Cath off to buy a nice red jacket and maybe some lipgloss or red nail varnish with the remaining money. But it was time to meet up with the rest of the team in Starbucks. Cath still had a sit-down dating lesson with Svetlana ahead of her and a career advice session with Marlise. Annie had no idea how Cath was going to come through those ordeals.

  But just as Starbucks came into view, with Bob ahead of them and his cameras most definitely off, Cath clung to Annie's arm and let out a wounded wail. 'I don't want to wear the dress, Annie! I don't want to go to a singles party! They can't make me. Not on television. What will people think?! I'm sorry, I can't go.'

  Chapter Ten

  Lana at home:

  Baggy blue tunic (H&M)

  Skinny jeans (Gap)

  Silver ballet shoes (Topshop)

  Lip salve (Nivea)

  Silver nail polish (Rimmel)

  Total est. cost: £75

  'I'd love to go to a party in disguise.'

  'Where is Lana, anyway?' Annie wondered out loud.

  Her welcome back into the bosom of her family hadn't gone quite so smoothly today, as she'd committed the sin of arriving back with a little Dorothy Perkins treat she'd bought for herself in her hands.

  Before she'd been able to stash it safely behind the rack of coats in the hallway, Owen had accosted her with the words, 'You've got a plastic bag! Muuuuuum!! How many times have I told you about this? You've got to carry a reusable shopping bag with you at all times.'

  'Yes Owen, I know,' she'd soothed, managing only a glancing kiss on the top of his head, before he'd ducked away. 'I'm sorry. It won't happen again, OK.'

  But too late, Ed had heard, and then he was in the hallway asking, 'Shopping bag? Surely you've not been shopping, on your budget of 28p a day or whatever it is?'

  'An incredibly, incredibly cheap mini-handbag from a chain store, seriously!' she'd defended herself.

  'Show!' he'd insisted, while moving in for a proper hug and kiss.

  She'd opened the carrier and shown him the bracelet, bag and . . . er . . . necklace she'd picked up in the shop. But a big part of her resented having to do this. She may have been relying on Ed's savings to get them through the next few months, but she certainly didn't want to be interrogated about every single little thing she might happen to pick up for herself.

  'Watch it,' she warned him, 'I might get snappy.'

  'OK,' he backed off with a smile. 'They look very nice.'

  That's when she'd decided to go and see Lana. At least she would understand and appreciate a bargain accessory. 'Lana's in her room,' Ed told her, 'she's never out of her room. She's become the most studious person I know.'

  'Must be your good influence,' Annie said with a wink. 'OK, well, I think I'll go and say hello. Then come back to my boys in a little bit.'

  'I hope you mean us and not the cats,' Ed replied, watching as his two saggy old house cats, Hoover and Dyson, wound their way, purring like engines, around Annie's legs.

  It was three short flights of stairs to the attic level where Owen and Lana each had a little bedroom. Annie tapped on Lana's door.

  There was a frantic blast of keyboard tapping and then Lana's voice asked, 'Is that you, Mum?'

  'Yeah,' Annie said, stepping into the room. 'Is it all right to come in or am I disturbing the next Einstein?'