by Karen Swan
Ferdy began kicking his legs and wriggling in the backpack – tired now of being constrained and a grizzly look brewing on his chubby pink face. Isobel bounced softly on the spot, trying to soothe him, completely unaware of how conspicuous she looked, ‘boinging’ in the middle of Selfridges. ‘All I’m saying is you should respect my opinion a bit more. I know you’re a maths genius who actually knows what a derivative is, but when it comes to clothes, I know what I’m talking about: my clothes make you look five years younger than you are; your clothes make you look twenty years older than you are.’
Allegra refrained from rolling her eyes – there was no point in explaining that a boardroom was one of the few places left on earth where women didn’t want to look younger than they were.
Another woman – also in a half-run – trod painfully on her toe, although at least she had the courtesy to apologize over her shoulder. Allegra turned on the spot, irritated and fast losing her patience. She could use her elbows as weapons along with the best of them, but she didn’t have the reserves for shops as warzones today. She saw the illuminated sign and grabbed Isobel by the arm. ‘Come on. This way.’
‘What? Where are we going?’
‘I can’t do this. Ferdy’s getting upset, and life is too short to spend it being knocked over by strangers.’
‘But I haven’t bought anything for Mum yet,’ Isobel complained, still walking with a peculiar bounce to pacify Ferdy, who was nonetheless escalating to full-on tears, as Allegra pressed the button for the lift and the doors pinged open. ‘And Lloyd’s desperate for a jacket. I have to go down to menswear,’ she protested as Allegra pressed to go up. ‘What are you doing?’
Ten seconds later, the doors slid open to reveal a perfumed suite with bronze walls, tulip-wood floors and dip-dyed silk rugs. Books were clustered in coloured groupings on shelves, and heaps of powder-pink flowers were arranged in bowls on low tables. At one end was a bar, and at the other, a library, the sisters’ reflections echoed back to them from numerous mirrored surfaces.
Isobel’s mouth fell open and even Ferdy – distracted by the sudden calm – stopped crying. Momentarily, anyway. ‘Where the hell are we? Is this someone’s house?’ Isobel whispered, just in case it was.
Allegra shook her head as they stepped out. She forgot her sister’s expensive tastes always had to be filtered through Zara first. A woman in a skinny black suit and studded heels, with a fluoro-orange necklace at her throat, came towards them. She was smiling, but there was hesitancy in her demeanour. Was it their clothes, the bawling baby . . . ?
‘Hello. May I help you?’
‘I hope so, but I’m afraid we don’t have an appointment,’ Allegra replied briskly, her hands fishing in her pockets for the credit card she’d had the presence of mind to slip into her running shorts before leaving/escaping the flat this morning. Her voice was thin and lifeless, and she knew she sounded snappy.
‘Ah. Well, I’m sorry—’
Allegra silently handed over her black Amex card with a knowing look. Regardless of whether the inevitable ‘sorry’ was down to the clothes or the bawling baby or both, she knew exactly how to trade here. ‘We need to get our Christmas shopping sorted, you see, and my nephew here is hungry. He needs . . .’ She turned back to Isobel. ‘What does he need?’
‘Um, like, maybe a finger sandwich or a banana?’ Isobel offered weakly, intimidated by the elegant decor and drawing up damage-limitation plans in her head. He was, after all, the child who ate like he had more than one stomach. She started bouncing on her toes as discreetly as she could in an effort to placate Ferdy, who was beginning to grizzle again.
‘Can you do that?’ Allegra asked, looking back at the consultant, her hands clasped in front of her in an authoritative but relaxed stance.
‘You couldn’t have timed it better,’ the woman replied. ‘All our consultants are booked today, but we have just had a cancellation. Would you like to take a seat on the sofas and I’ll arrange for some refreshments to be sent up to you?’
‘Thank you.’
Allegra led the way round a glass shelving unit to a drawing-room area with turquoise lamps and plump sofas studded with jewel-like velvet cushions. It felt like a 1950s film set, like An Affair to Remember, or a Doris Day–Rock Hudson collaboration.
Isobel sank gratefully onto one of the sofas, jumping straight back up again as the boy terror began to holler with renewed relish in her ear. Isobel planted her feet wide and dropped into some frantic pliés.
‘Should we let him go free?’ Allegra asked, imagining the personal shopper’s strangled expression when she encountered this scenario. God, did her sister have any idea . . . ?
‘What? Here? Are you mad?’ Isobel hissed, dropping particularly deeply. ‘Have you seen how much glass is in this room? Even if he doesn’t break anything, just imagine the smears.’
Allegra pulled a face. ‘Oh yes. The smears.’
The woman came back. ‘All ordered,’ she said, her voice trailing away as she watched Isobel rising and falling with rhythmic determination. Recovering herself, she stopped staring and sat daintily on the sofa opposite. ‘So, I’m Tanya,’ she smiled, her hands fluttering over her chest to reinforce the point.
‘Allegra Fisher, Isobel Watson and Ferdy,’ Allegra said.
‘Would you prefer to go into one of the consulting suites? It’s more private in there, and there are changing areas too?’
‘We’re not buying for ourselves, so we don’t need to try things on,’ Allegra said. ‘And frankly, I’m not sure any of us want to be locked in a confined space with him when he’s this hungry.’
‘Oh yes. Quite.’ Tanya looked across at Ferdy in alarm, before opening her iPad and quickly taking some personal details from Allegra to find her account. ‘So then, what is it you’re looking for today?’ Tanya asked, directing the question to Allegra, the bearer of the black card.
‘My sister needs a jacket for her husband.’
‘Something khaki – you know, military style – but nothing too . . . tricksy,’ Isobel said, going into freestyle as she started doing side lunges. Ferdy seemed a lot happier with that lateral motion – maybe because it brought him to within swiping distance of the lamps. ‘No braiding or badges. No hood.’
‘I know exactly what you’re after,’ Tanya said confidently, her head moving left and right to maintain eye contact.
‘And it must have lots of pockets – you know, like big enough to get a nappy in.’
‘Oh, uh . . .’
Isobel gave her a desperate look, realizing she’d lost their connection. ‘Do you have kids?’
Tanya shook her head.
‘No,’ Isobel sighed, feeling ridiculous and misunderstood.
‘Um, what size is he, your husband?’
‘Medium.’
‘Do you happen to have a photo of him?’
‘Totally,’ Isobel said, stopping the lunges and immediately beginning to scan the photos on her phone for the most flattering picture. Lloyd wasn’t, in Allegra’s opinion, very photogenic and seemed to have a special skill of blinking at the exact point the shutter closed. Ferdy began to munter again and Isobel resumed quick heel raises.
Please, not star jumps, Allegra thought to herself, her arms and legs crossed. ‘While Isobel’s doing that, we need something for our mother too. We were thinking maybe . . .’ Allegra automatically looked to Isobel for help – she was the designated present-buyer in the family – but she was engrossed in their photos from Turkey and trying to find one that didn’t make Lloyd’s tummy look too big. ‘Well, she feels the cold, so maybe something in cashmere or sheepskin.’
‘Does she enjoy going on walks? Is she a gardener?’
‘She enjoys walking in the garden,’ Allegra said more quietly, aware she was making her mother sound like a Victorian lady of leisure.
‘How old is she?’
‘Sixty-six.’ Too young to be where she was.
‘I see. And her colouring, build . . . ?’
‘Grey hair, dark brown eyes, medium height, slim build. Classic style – roll-neck jumpers and twinsets, pastel colours. A regular fourteen now.’
‘OK, good. Well, I can think of a fair few things that you may like.’
‘Here’s one!’ Isobel cried, leaping enthusiastically over to the sofa where Tanya was sitting. Lloyd was scrambling, bare-chested, over some rocks, and from the angle all you could really see of him were his shoulders and arms (he must have been holding his tummy in), but his eyes looked nice.
‘Oh, he’s so handsome!’ Tanya said, bonding with Isobel, the less fearsome sister. ‘I have just the thing for him.’ She looked back at Allegra. ‘And is that everything on your list?’
Allegra turned to her sister. ‘Do you need some stocking-fillers?’
‘Legs!’ Isobel wailed, throwing her arms up behind her and trying to cover Ferdy’s ears.
‘Iz, he’s ten months old. I don’t think Santa’s secret is out just yet.’
Tanya laughed confidingly and rose. ‘Strictly speaking, we don’t cover childrenswear or toys up here, but let me see what I can do. I’ve ordered the refreshments to be brought up to you, so they should be here any moment. My colleague Mary is in the adjoining suite, so if you need anything at all while I’m gone, please do knock. She’s in the blue suite, just there.’
She pointed to a closed door with a number ‘8’ on it. ‘And there are plenty of magazines at your disposal. Our iPads are set to our designers’ collections if you’re interested.’
‘Ooooh yes,’ Isobel said interestedly, leaning forward to retrieve one from a low table, so that Ferdy almost slid out of the backpack head first.
‘Whoa!’ Allegra cried, lunging forward to stop him as Tanya looked on, open-mouthed in horror. ‘Steady there, buster.’ She helped right him, his bawls growing louder by the minute – almost jumping back as she saw that his nose needed a wipe. ‘Oh, uh, Iz . . . his . . . his nose,’ she grimaced. ‘Gross.’
‘OK, so then . . . I’ll . . .’ Tanya called over the noise, gesturing that she was going to the lifts and clearly concerned about leaving the trio unattended.
‘Great. Just great,’ Isobel muttered, pulling a stiff hanky from her jeans back pocket and trying to catch hold of Ferdy’s head behind her own, but he was reaching a new crescendo. ‘Dammit, we can’t afford to wait for lunch to come up. Can you check in my bag? There’s a carton of milk and a bottle in there.’
The noise was growing so loud that Allegra was beginning to feel disoriented and panicky, and she handed it over with trembling hands.
Isobel expertly decanted the contents into a small empty bottle and shook it vigorously like it was a fancy cocktail. Then she sank onto the nearest sofa cushion. ‘Quick! Get him out of this contraption for me. We’re going to get thrown out if he keeps this up.’
It was true – they were. Even unlimited credit came with some provisos. If all these other suites were occupied . . .
Allegra fiddled with the straps and hoisted the distressed child clear, trying to make sure his foot didn’t connect with Isobel’s head. ‘Here, just let me give it to him. You must have tinnitus from him screaming next to your ear like that.’
Allegra leaned back as far as she dared and, grabbing the bottle, settled back with Ferdy in her arms, his little hands patting the sides rhythmically as he immediately began to glug. His eyes closed as he drank and both women revelled in the sudden, loud peace, just as a door – door 8 – opened and a stern-looking woman stepped out.
‘Tanya?’ she asked, grim-faced and tight-lipped.
Isobel stopped flicking through American Vogue and turned on her seat to face her. ‘Tanya’s gone down to the shop floor,’ she said brightly. ‘She said she wouldn’t be long.’
The woman looked at Isobel as though surprised she had responded, before catching sight of Ferdy hungrily drinking the milk. It was clear he was – or had been – the source of her displeasure. ‘I see. Thank you.’ And she disappeared into room 8 again.
Isobel turned back and pulled a face. ‘Oops. She looked pissed off.’
‘Maybe this wasn’t one of my better ideas,’ Allegra murmured, looking down at Ferdy, who – now clean-faced and silent – had the cheek to look angelic. ‘They’re trying to sell thousands of pounds’ worth of clothes and Ferdy here’s on a one-man mission to blow the walls down.’
‘He’ll be OK now,’ Isobel said, gazing at her son adoringly for a moment, before quickly picking up one of the iPads. ‘I wonder if they’ve got Isabel Marant on here.’
Somewhere down the corridor could be heard the sound of a fire door being opened and, shortly afterwards, footsteps on the wooden floor. Allegra looked up as two assistants set down trays – one piled high with cloud-soft finger sandwiches, chopped fruit, juice and a strawberry mousse, and on the other, some olives, crisps and two fizzing glasses of champagne.
Both sisters eyed the glasses hungrily. If ever champagne had been earned, shopping in Selfridges two Fridays before Christmas with a teething, hungry baby in tow qualified them for a free flute.
‘Cheers!’ Isobel beamed, handing Allegra her glass, and they each took a sip, but Allegra didn’t warm to the taste. Her body wasn’t receptive to more alcohol so soon after the martinis, and besides, what did she have to celebrate?
Her mind wandered back to the night before as a silent but insistent buzz in her pocket made her stiffen suddenly, and she awkwardly shifted position, trying to free her phone from her jeans. Ferdy didn’t protest. His tummy was filling nicely and so long as nothing came between him and the milk, peace was assured. She clicked on the screen and, seeing the name on it, instantly pocketed the phone again with a scowl, just as door 8 opened once more and the grumpy woman who’d been looking for Tanya emerged. She walked past Isobel and Allegra like they weren’t there, even though Isobel – who was mid-bite of a sandwich – had politely half turned in her seat. Allegra’s eyes followed the woman as she marched officiously across the floor – her arms laden with black and red ski kit – towards a desk in the next section. Setting down the clothes on a nearby chair, she began typing away at the keyboard, frowning as she peered at the screen, all the while looking very important.
A man came out of room 8, buttoning the jacket on his suit and glancing across at them as he briskly walked towards the saleswoman. He stopped abruptly.
‘Fisher? What the hell are you doing here?’
Isobel’s eyes widened at hearing her sister being referred to by her surname.
It took Allegra a couple of moments to respond. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she replied lightly, lifting Ferdy in her arms slightly. Sometimes her ability to mask her shock/upset/ fear/hurt (delete as appropriate) amazed even her. Sam took in the high tea, the scattered magazines, Allegra’s uncharacteristic clothes, the feeding baby in her arms.
He frowned. ‘Not really, no.’
Allegra didn’t reply and simply looked back down at Ferdy, not trusting her voice to carry off an insouciance she didn’t feel. The brutality of last night’s events rushed back at her with fresh power and she felt the adrenalin spike into her muscles. Everything had, after all, ignited because of him – what he’d whispered to Pierre, what he’d said to Zhou. If he’d never brought Zhou to the damned party . . . If he’d never moved to London . . . If he’d never been on that plane . . . in that lift . . .
‘I tried calling you all night!’ he said, stepping closer, his eyes moving warily to Isobel before resting on Allegra again.
‘And, funnily enough, I was sleeping.’
‘I doubt that.’
Her eyes snapped to his and immediately away again.
‘You could have returned my calls.’
‘Could I? Why? What is it I owe you exactly?’ Her tone had hardened, flecks of venom glistening in her words. ‘You got what you wanted.’
He was quiet for a few beats and Allegra stared down into Ferdy’s deep blue eyes, which were wide and fixed upon her like she was the sun in hi
s sky.
‘I need to see your last report, what you were working on with Bob this week. We’ll need it for the new pitch.’
What? Her head whipped up again. That was his only concern?
‘Fuck. You,’ she said with ominous quiet.
Isobel’s jaw dropped down. She didn’t like bad language to be used in front of Ferds, but something – call it survival instinct – told her now wasn’t the time to bring it up.
Behind her, Allegra heard the gentle ping of the lift doors, Sam’s eyes raising up as he saw Tanya heading towards them.
‘Enjoy your ski trip,’ she said with withering sarcasm. ‘At least you’ll look the part.’ Her eyes flickered towards the matron ringing up his clothes by the desk as Tanya rounded the corner with a small wheeled trolley, already impressively stacked with polythene-gloved clothes, and Allegra thought she must have run around the designer floors like it was a supermarket sweep.
‘Ladies . . .’ Tanya said, smiling first politely at Sam, then more brightly as she took in the finer details of his face. But Sam didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at Allegra, who, in turn, was again suddenly engrossed in watching Ferdy feed.
‘It’s OK,’ Allegra smiled, looking up at her. ‘He was just leaving.’
Tanya’s face fell as Sam walked off, the tension in his shoulders clear even from behind. She recovered quickly, pushing the rack of clothes towards the sisters, but Isobel wasn’t interested in jackets for Lloyd right now.
‘Who the hell was that?’ Isobel hissed, getting up and collapsing on the same sofa as her sister.
‘A creep I used to work with.’
‘He called you Fisher.’
Allegra looked at her sister and shook her head lightly. If that shocked her . . . ‘Yes.’ She looked down at her nephew feeding peacefully in her arms. The milk seemed to have made him sleepy.
Isobel carried on staring at her. ‘Well, he may be a creep, but he’s a gorgeous creep. You can see that, right?’