How Not To Shop

by Carmen Reid

  'Yeah.' A shrug of the shoulders.

  Annie heard her phone beep. Desperate for news from Ed, she pulled it out and read: 'Have Lana, taking E to Svets.'

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Svetlana at the door:

  Cashmere robe (Harrods)

  Beige sheepskin boots (Ugg)

  Unbelievable underwear (Myla)

  Pearls (Tokyo)

  Perfume (Givenchy)

  Total est. cost: £1,800

  'Vhy you here?'

  'Ohhhh, you are a bad, bad, girl. Bad . . . tooooo bad,' Harry groaned in genuine pain. He pressed his face back down into the black sheet and breathed in Svetlana's richly exotic perfume.

  Meanwhile Svetlana sat on top of him in one of her favourite lingerie ensembles: knickers made of pale pink silk and black stretch lace with a matching quarter-cup bra. Just one look at her heaving, voluminous white breasts barely constrained within these structural masterpieces was usually enough to make Harry promise to do . . . well, whatever she wanted. But then he tended to do that anyway, which was sweet. She just thought she should keep up the nice bedroom outfits, to make sure he continued to behave as well.

  Silky black stockings and very high black heels completed her look, along with the rope of pearls at her neck. She liked to make use of the pearls now and then: running them along his stomach, twisting and moving them around his wet, firm erection. And he liked that. He liked that very much.

  'Nooo!' he protested with a gasp, 'No! No!'

  But still she sank her fingers in deeper.

  'It's too much,' he groaned.

  'No!' she insisted, 'Is good. Is very, very good!' She leaned further into him, feeling for the most hidden, most tender places.

  'Aaaaaaargh!' he complained when her fingers found and manipulated them mercilessly.

  'Is good,' she insisted, moving into the muscle fibres at the very base of his neck.

  In Svetlana's opinion, as well as regular sex, every man of Harry's age needed a vigorous bi-weekly dose of Swedish massage to stay healthy.

  Ed parked the Jeep in the street.

  'Right then, here we are,' he announced and reached over to open the driver's door.

  'Coming, Elena?' he asked. Elena nodded in reply and stepped out.

  Lana looked up sleepily at Ed. 'Are we home?' she asked.

  'No. Not yet, just stay put, I'm dropping off Elena.'

  Lana didn't argue with this, just nodded and closed her eyes once again.

  Ed walked with Elena to the door and rang the bell long and loud. Within moments, Maria was opening the door. Her eyes widened in surprise when she recognized Elena.

  'Hello,' Ed began, 'I'd like to see Svetlana. I'm dropping off Elena.'

  Now the maid's eyes were as wide as an owl's.

  'I see . . .' she said and closed the door in their faces.

  Elena looked at Ed as they waited. 'She not vant me,' Elena told him with more than a hint of sadness.

  'She needs to get to know you,' Ed told her. 'I want to give her the chance.'

  'She von't like it,' Elena pointed out.

  'Well, sometimes the things you don't like turn out to be good for you,' was all Ed could think of saying.

  The door opened and Maria was standing in front of them once again. In a whisper, she said, 'Now is very bad time, can you please visit tomorrow?'

  'No,' Ed replied, 'tomorrow is not convenient. I need to speak to Svetlana now. Elena is coming to stay here.'

  Closing the door, the maid scurried off again.

  'Now what?' Ed wondered out loud.

  His question was answered when the door opened and Svetlana herself appeared on the threshold, hair ruffled and wearing only long sheepskin boots and a belted cashmere robe. Maybe she'd been in bed. More likely she was lounging about having some minion do her nails or something, Ed guessed.

  She looked put out, to say the least.

  'Vy you here?' she'd demanded urgently, looking from Elena to Ed, then back again. 'Not now! Not here!' she insisted.

  'Yes,' Ed insisted: 'now and here.'

  Keeping his voice low and controlled, he explained briefly: 'Elena can't stay with us. Elena doesn't even want to stay with us. We have a sixteen-year old girl. I've just found her drunk and sick in a bar with your daughter and a crowd of seedy men.'

  When Svetlana said nothing to this, Ed went on. 'Your daughter Elena, who's thinking about becoming a dancer, by the way. A nightclub dancer. Don't you care at all what happens to her?' he asked. 'Aren't you interested? Don't you want to help her at all?

  'She's not my problem,' Ed went on, flinching inside as he said this, because it wasn't in his nature to turn away from young people who needed help, but somehow, he had to get Svetlana involved, 'she's your problem. You deal with her.'

  Svetlana had never been spoken to like this by anyone. Everyone else always told her exactly what she wanted to hear. And if they had something to say that she wouldn't like to hear, they got their lawyer to fax it to her.

  She gasped with shock and ran through a list of threats she could throw at Ed. But there was nothing she could use. He didn't work for her. He didn't need anything from her. He couldn't benefit from her in any way. He and Annie had been keeping her daughter as a favour! She had no control over them.

  She gasped again – this time, because she could hear the door at the top of the stairs opening, and footsteps descending rapidly.

  Now Harry was coming into the hall behind them in a hastily assembled outfit.

  'What the dickens is going on?' he demanded.

  First of all he saw Ed at the doorstep, then his eyes fell on Elena. With her pale skin, blonde hair, proud upright posture and light grey, defiant eyes, she almost didn't need to say the words that tumbled from her lips.

  'Hello, I am Elena. I am Svetlana's daughter.'

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Annie dressed to go:

  Pink silk skirt (Oscar de la Renta, Store sale)

  White shirt (Gap)

  Beige fishnet hold-ups (Pretty Polly)

  Beige suede boots (Jimmy Choo, via eBay)

  Beige mac (Valentino, via eBay)

  Total est. cost: £420

  'You're old enough to know.'

  'You did not! She did not! What happened then?'

  The news of Elena's dispatch was so exciting, Annie had to put the long lecture she'd prepared to give Lana on hold. In fact, one look at Lana's pale and contrite face as she'd sidled in the front door had told Annie that the whole lecture might not be necessary.

  'I'm going to my room to change,' Lana had told her meekly, leaving Ed to finish the Svetlana story.

  'Harry stormed off!' Ed went on, 'without another word . . . without even tying up his shoelaces! Then Elena went in and that's all I can tell you. She slammed the door in my face!'

  'Oh blimey, I have to phone her.' Annie reached for her mobile, but Ed put a hand on her arm.

  'No you do not,' he said: 'why don't you just let her be? Let her sort out her own mess for once. Owen!' Ed's attention had moved to the puddle close to the dog basket. 'You've not let Dave out! Now he's peed and you're clearing up, mate.' Ed added: 'Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.'

  'Shhh,' Annie told Ed, 'Owen's had a bit of a time of it himself.'

  Owen groaned, but got up from the sofa.

  'Dog ownership comes with responsibilities, buddy,' Ed told him, patting him on the shoulder as he passed.

  Annie's eyes met her partner's. He'd tracked down her daughter and brought her home in the face of tough-guy opposition, he'd gone to one of the wealthiest women in Mayfair and told her how it was; he'd even delegated dog wee duty to Owen.

  She was impressed.

  Annie could have done all these things herself. Easily. But it was the fact that he was here and he did them too that was impressive. He was her equal. Maybe even, right now, he was slightly more powerful and slightly more in charge.

  And the fact that they held the balance of power
like this between them, constantly making tiny shifts and adjustments, like two tightrope walkers with poles, was impressive. And very, very sexy.

  Annie quite liked the fact that to other people, Ed might appear too nice, too cuddly and too much of a pushover, but really, there was a core of strength running through him. He was upright. One hundred per cent. He would never let you down.

  'Thanks,' Annie told him, moving to put her arms round Ed's waist and pull him in, 'I don't think we should go tonight,' she said.

  'No,' he agreed.

  'I need to go up and see Lana now.'

  'Yeah.'

  Annie could see, as soon as she stepped into Lana's bedroom, that her daughter was very sorry.

  She was sitting on her bed. She hadn't changed out of her boob tube and leggings, but she'd pulled a blanket across her shoulders and was looking scared and sad.

  So there was no need for Annie to lecture. She just needed to put an arm round Lana and remind her of all the rules about staying safe. And she did, gently.

  Tears were squeezing from the corners of Lana's eyes as she told Annie, 'I'm sorry, OK? I won't do anything like that again, ever.'

  'Yes, you will' – Annie squeezed her and couldn't help giving a little laugh – 'and we'll be right here for you. To pick you up and help you out again. But you better not ever, ever pick up a cigarette again or I'll cut off your hands,' she warned.

  'Thank you,' Lana sniffed and pushed her face into Annie's shoulder: 'I don't know what would have happened if Dad hadn't shown up . . .'

  Just as Annie sucked in a breath of astonishment at the mistake Lana had made, Lana corrected herself. 'I mean Ed,' she said quickly and there was a sob in her voice; 'of course I mean Ed.'

  Annie rubbed her hand across her daughter's blanketed back and felt a lump rising up in her throat.

  'You're old enough to know, baby . . .' she began, swallowing hard, 'you're old enough to know that you had a wonderful dad who would have loved you to bits and who would have taken on anyone for your sake . . . but it's really OK to think of Ed as your dad now. He deserves it. And it doesn't take anything away from your real dad. Not one thing.'

  Annie could feel tears at the back of her own eyes. She felt as if she was falling forward into commitments she hadn't yet decided to make. Someone, somewhere had taken off her mental brakes without even telling her.

  All of a sudden, she felt certain that she was going to marry Ed and sign the legal papers that would make him the children's real stepdad. Maybe even from tonight she would throw her diaphragm in the bin, make love without a safety net and get pregnant with him. Then he would finally be the one thing he still longed to be – a real dad.

  'Call Ed "Dad",' Annie whispered into her daughter's hair, 'he'll absolutely love it.'

  Just then there was a tap at the door and Ed looked into the room. 'Everything OK?' he asked with concern.

  'Fine,' Annie told him. 'Get over here,' she instructed him gently.

  Ed sat down on the edge of Lana's bed and put his arm around her shoulder just like Annie was doing. 'You feeling better?' he asked.

  To his surprise, Lana used both arms to hug him back and resting her head on his shoulder, she sobbed against it. 'I'm so sorry . . . thank you . . . Dad,' she whispered the word tentatively, as if she were trying it out. As if she wanted to make sure it was OK.

  Ed hugged her protectively and kissed the top of her head. When he looked up at Annie, she could see that his eyes were swimming.

  'DINAH! ED! HELP!'

  Their tender family moment was broken by loud shrieks from the landing below.

  'It's Mum!' Annie said, springing up and rushing across the room.

  By the time she'd made it down from the attic, Ed and Lana hot on her heels, Dinah and Owen had also rushed up from downstairs.

  'He's taken my shoe!' Fern pointed with agitation in the direction of Ed and Annie's bedroom, 'I saw him running in there with it!'

  'The dog?' Annie asked. 'If that dog has become a shoe eater, he is . . .' a glance at Owen told her she'd better not utter the threat she had in mind, 'in serious, serious trouble.'

  'No!' Owen assured them, 'it'll be his chew, not a shoe. I bought him a whole box. He loves them, carries them around.'

  'He does,' Lana confirmed, on Owen and Dave's side.

  'No. It's my shoe!' Fern insisted. She hurried towards the open bedroom door and everyone else fell in behind her.

  'It did look too big for a chew . . .' Dinah added.

  Dave had jumped on top of her bed! Annie thought with outrage. The disgusting little mongrel was growling, chewing frantically and digging his filthy little claws into the silk velvet bedspread in a frenzy of excitement.

  'Down!' Annie blurted out.

  'Now Dave,' Ed said, much more kindly, as if he was going to begin a long explanation about why you shouldn't bring Granny's shoes or your chew toys into the bedroom.

  Annie looked more closely at the bed: it was scattered with paper.

  'What is that?' Owen asked, coming in for a closer look at the dog just as Annie was registering that the scattered paper was a pattern she'd seen before. It was . . . wrapping paper. In fact, it was the paper Ed had used to wrap his gift to her!

  Oh . . . good . . . GRIEF!

  She looked at Ed.

  Ed was looking at Dave.

  Fern, Dinah, Lana, Owen: everyone was looking at Dave, moving in on him, fascinated to see what he was working away at with his jaws.

  With a flash of horror, Annie realized, but it was too late to do anything to hide it. Everyone was going to see. She flicked a glance at Ed and saw the colour rising in his face. So he'd realized too.

  Dave's strong teeth had already raised bumps on the rubber surface but they hadn't done much to disguise the exaggerated, but obvious, shape of the object. The stupid mutt then managed to bite down on the switch so that all of a sudden it sprang to life, whirring and twisting in his mouth. He growled and tried to shake it vigorously into submission.

  'Put that down, Dave!' Ed commanded, making a lunge at the dog, desperate to be the first to get hold of him. But Dave ducked out of his grasp and now Owen had the dog's head in his hands and was prising his jaws apart.

  Annie watched in slow motion as her 12-year-old son picked up a large pink and purple, nubbly rubber vibrating vibrator and held it up in front of his family.

  'What is this?' he asked.

  'Oh. My!' was Dinah's surprised response.

  'Oh . . . my word!' Fern managed with a gasp.

  'Is that a . . .' Lana began, her face wrinkled with disgust.

  Before she could utter the dreaded word, Ed, redder than a beetroot on fire, snatched the battery-operated boner from Owen's hand muttering, 'Right, OK, we'll take that away from him and . . .'

  But Ed seemed to hang there, vibrator vibrating in his hand, at a loss for words. He didn't even have the presence of mind to switch the thing off. So it continued to buzz and twist.