Late Night Shopping

by Carmen Reid

  'Un po,' he confided in her.

  'Why don't you tell Mum?' Lana wondered.

  'What and miss out on all the fun?' Ed confided. 'Do you know what she's just told that waiter?'

  'I think she wanted a fresh jug of water.'

  'Yup, but she told him to bring her some rushed broccoli.'

  Lana spluttered her drink.

  'Oh, I love your mum,' he added, but Lana had worked that out a long time ago.

  Meanwhile, across the table, the waiter was asking Annie, 'So you come to Ancona for handbag and shoes, no?'

  'Si. Of course!' Annie told him and, remembering how much the Italians she had known had loved to show off what 'insiders' they were, she asked him, 'Where is the best place to go? I need to know the very best place.

  Very best shoes and bags but at the very, very best price.

  Best price,' she thought she'd repeated in Italian, but the waiter wondered why she was talking about 'precious millet'.

  'Yes, I go talk to my brother, we come back and tell you all best places.' He treated her to a showy wink, then asked, 'Shop? Or factory?'

  'Factory?'

  There was no mistaking the gleam in Annie's eyes as she asked, 'You can go to the factories?'

  'Si, si,' came the emphatic response, 'big tourismo in the factories.'

  Dinah caught the gist of this conversation and turned to Annie to confirm what she thought she'd heard. 'We can buy things direct from the factories?' When Annie nodded happily, Dinah had to agree. 'That's got to be worth a visit!'

  The waiter returned with a list of all the best shops and factory stores in and around Ancona. Lana wanted to take a look through the names and even Aunty Hilda seemed to fire up with enthusiasm.

  'Frank bought me a beautiful navy crocodile handbag when we visited the lakes, oh back in the sixties. Navy crocodile, so hard to find, goes with everything. I still use it. Not like you girls – ' she directed a sharp look at Annie and Dinah – 'a different bag for every outfit. And they're not cheap, I know that.'

  'So I think it's going to be just you and me exploring the territory around the villa tomorrow then,' Ed informed Owen, 'unless Connor, of course . . .'

  'No, no, I'm with the bag ladies,' Connor told him without hesitation.

  * * *

  When Annie had booked the three-bedroomed villa, she'd thought Bryan, Dinah and Billie would all share the biggest bedroom and she and Ed would be in the other double. Then, she'd planned for Connor and Owen to have the room with the single beds and Lana, the fold-away sofa bed in the sitting room.

  Now that Aunty Hilda was with them and obviously needed a large ground floor bedroom to herself, everything had been thrown into disarray.

  Annie went through every possible combination in her mind, but the best she could come up with was Lana, Dinah and Billie in the family room, Aunty Hilda in the other double, Owen and Connor still sharing the singles . . . which left Annie and Ed on the sofa bed.

  'No! Have our room,' Connor had offered. 'I can slum it on the sofa bed and we could make Owen something comfy on the floor with the sofa cushions.'

  But Annie thought there was going to be quite enough chaos in the villa without creating a boy's dorm right in the middle of the sitting room.

  Lying uncomfortably beside Ed on the sofa bed's thin and narrow mattress that night, she regretted her generosity to Connor and Owen.

  'This wasn't really quite how I pictured it,' Ed turned his head to whisper into her ear.

  'No, me neither,' she told him.

  They lay side by side, trying to get used to their new night-time surroundings.

  'What is that noise?' she asked. They both listened to the low rumbling that rose and fell, louder for a few moments, then quieter again, then louder once more.

  'Tractor in the distance? Revving up its engine?' Ed suggested, but not with any great certainty.

  'No, I don't think – Oh my God, it's Aunty Hilda's snoring!' Annie realized.

  Splayed across the comfortable double bed in the garden bedroom with doors out to the terrace, where Annie should have been cuddled up with Ed right now, the octogenarian snorer was deeply, deeply away in the Land of Nod.

  'Well, that's the sign of a good evening!' Ed said with amusement. 'Did you see how much wine she put away?'

  'Yeah . . . and how much pasta,' Annie added. 'I don't think Mum's been feeding her properly. Mum's probably been on a diet to look hot for her Saga booze cruise.'

  The sagginess at the centre of the sofa bed had rolled Ed and Annie in very close together. Because it was warm in the sitting room, even with the windows wide open to let in a breeze, they'd gone to bed with very little on, so their nearly naked bodies were brushing against each other.

  'Italy is a very sexy country,' Annie said, feeling her way around Ed with her fingertips.

  'Yes . . . I had noticed that,' he replied, sliding the slim strap of her camisole slowly down her shoulder. With his lips against her earlobe, he added, 'What was all that about handbag factories? I was at the table too, you know.'

  She ran her fingernail around his bellybutton and lower into the tangle of hair below, then her lips found his damp, minty mouth and she kissed him luxuriously.

  'Shhhh . . .' she insisted halfway through the kiss, 'let's not talk about that right now.'

  'Oh,' he said, lightly stroking her nipple into a little point, 'now you want to get friendly . . . now that I'm questioning your divine right to shop no matter where, no matter when.'

  'Stop talking,' she insisted, moving her mouth down to the soft and sensitive side of his neck.

  'You're not allowed to spend over two hundred pounds without consulting me,' he reminded her, then bent his head so that brushing his hair against her breasts, he could lick deftly with the very edge of his tongue against the nipple point. 'We had a deal,' he reminded her. 'Would I spend over two hundred pounds without asking? Even of my own money?'

  'Ed!' she argued, although he was kissing her stomach now, he was moving lower and in a moment she wouldn't be able to say anything at all. 'You've never spent over two hundred pounds on anything, ever. Apart from that one time I made you go shopping for clothes you actually look good in. And didn't that turn out to be a fantastic investment? You got me!'

  Ed came back up the bed, squeaking the springs with every move. She pulled him on top of her so she could feel his hard warmth leaning into her.

  His face above hers, he told her with a smile, 'I think, technically speaking, you're an asset. Not an investment. You're an asset that needs constant maintenance.'

  He moved onto his side, so he could touch between her legs in search of exactly the right place . . . and he didn't miss. She could rely on him never to miss.

  'I think, technically speaking . . .' she whispered with her lips against his ear, 'you've got a boner,' and she moved her fingers onto it. 'I might have to go down there and do a full inspection.'

  Annie had just begun to move down underneath the sheet into Ed's furry warmth when she felt his hands pulling her to a stop.

  'Owen?' Annie heard Ed ask in surprise, 'is anything the matter?'

  'Just going to the bathroom,' came the sleepy-sounding reply.

  Ed and Annie lay perfectly still on the sofa bed, their hands still in place, their fingers applying just the right amount of pressure and almost imperceptible touch to keep them both throbbing with pleasure, desperate to move and on the very brink of coming, while Owen meandered to the bathroom, did a startlingly audible wee, then stumbled out and back to bed again.

  Once he was safely in his room, the lovemaking that followed was hot and hurried but almost completely silent. With Ed moving deep inside her, his guitar-playing fingers strumming against her clit, Annie came as quietly as she could, swallowing down the sounds.

  'I love you,' she heard herself whispering into the pillow and then again, 'I love you. I love you.'

  It sounded strange, because she didn't say it often. Usually she said 'me too' after Ed
had said it.

  'Yes,' came Ed's whisper, as he moved against her, hurrying now that he knew she'd come, 'Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . .' he rocked, 'YES!'

  Lying side by side in the sofa bed's hollow, just as Annie thought they were finally going to go to sleep, Ed broke the comfortable silence with the unwelcome but not entirely unexpected question. 'You're not really serious about setting up your own business are you, Annie?'

  There was only one reply she wanted to make to this right now: 'Babes, it's been a very, very long day. Can we talk about this tomorrow?'

  Chapter Thirteen

  Holiday Dinah:

  White, lime and beige tunic dress (Topshop)

  Flat yellow sandals (Barnardo's)

  White sunglasses (Brick Lane market)

  Large lime shopper bag (Topshop)

  Total est. cost: £75

  'Well, if you like it Billie, we'll take it.'

  The next morning, Ed got up early and walked down to the village where he found a bakery, a greengrocer's and a tiny general store.

  Both Owen and a bright-eyed Connor were awake when he got back, so they helped him set out the table on the terrace with crusty white bread and jam, coffee blacker than the night, apricot juice, fresh pears, figs and a tub of goat's yoghurt.

  When the girls surfaced an hour later, still in their pyjamas or nighties, they were much more cranky, Dinah and Annie both suffering from the many jugfuls of wine consumed at the Taverna, Lana, Billie and Aunty Hilda still grouchy with sleep.

  As Annie poured herself a coffee, Connor emerged from the pool and his first swim of the day and she had to stop mid-cup to admire the glorious chiselled torso.

  'God, you're looking fantastic, Connor,' she called over to him. 'I'd have you.'

  His six-pack was straight off the cover of a Calvin Klein boxers box.

  'Do you think you could show Ed a few of your stomach crunches?' Annie asked cheekily, shooting a grin at Ed.

  Connor, dabbing at himself with a towel, told her off gently. 'Annie Valentine! You've got a very good man there: handy about the house, an early riser, layer of breakfast tables, maker of fantastic coffee . . . but he still squeaks your sofa bed. So, if you ever change your mind, you make sure you let me know so that I can move in on him straight away!'

  This brought a shocked cackle from Aunty Hilda, and even a little smile.

  'Hands off!' Lana warned Connor.

  Then Owen added, 'He's ours.'

  All this blatant affection made Ed blush right up to his ears.

  'OK, OK, that's enough sucking up to Ed, just because he went to the village and got breakfast,' Annie said, shooting Ed a wink. 'Much more importantly, how are we dividing up for the morning? I thought I might drive into the next town with my little list of places to visit – ' she couldn't repress her smile. 'I know Lana and Dinah want to come with me . . .'

  'Yup, put me down for the ladies-only shopping trip,' Connor said, pulling up a chair at the table and reaching for the yoghurt.

  'We're staying here, aren't we, Ed?' Owen asked, his mouth crammed with bread and jam. 'I'm not going in that car again, ever, and anyway, I want to go exploring.'

  He waved his hand expansively at the countryside surrounding the villa. There were fields and hills, fruit orchards, small twisting dust roads, so many places to wander. He couldn't wait. He still couldn't believe he'd managed to sneak his penknife through Customs by hiding it in his shoe and he was planning to put it to good use.

  At this moment Lana's sparkly pink mobile, on the table right beside her glass of juice, beeped and a smile flashed across her face.

  'Ooooh!' Connor teased, 'Lanie's got a textie from her boyfie.'

  'I know I said I would come into town with you,' Aunty Hilda began from her corner of the table, 'but after last night, I think I'll have a quiet day. I never usually eat so late at night, it just doesn't agree with me. I can wheel myself from my room to the poolside and back again, so no one needs to worry about me.'

  'Are you sure?' Annie had to ask, trying not to sound too relieved. 'We have to look after you, Mum would never forgive us if you weren't looked after properly.'

  'Your mother is a bit of a fusser,' came Aunty Hilda's verdict, 'and that's all I'm saying.'

  Annie let it go. She even congratulated herself for letting it go.

  'We'll keep an eye on you,' Ed told Aunty Hilda with a smile, 'in between very exciting expeditions, obviously,' he assured Owen, whose face had fallen.

  'So what about you, Billie?' Ed asked, turning to Dinah's five-year-old daughter. 'Would you like to come out exploring with me and Owen?'

  Billie, in an angelic pink and white nightie, was spooning down yoghurt and chopped fruit like there was no tomorrow. She broke off to look up at Ed, then over to her mummy, as if weighing up the choices carefully.

  'We're going round the shops,' Dinah told her, 'it might be quite long in the car and a little bit boring for you.'

  But this didn't deter Billie in the slightest. Fixing her gaze firmly on Mummy, she said, 'I'll come with you.'

  By 4 p.m., the long and meandering shopping trawl had not brought Annie a great deal of joy.

  In all the little shops and boutiques the party had been into, the clothes and accessories for sale had been so . . . well . . . just so Italian: fussy little pointy pumps in mock croc, sweaters that were cashmere, yes, but with pastel-coloured stripes, or cartoon faces, or appliquéd ice-cream cones for God's sake. Who in their right mind wanted to go around in a pale blue cashmere jumper with a pink and white ice-cream cone on the front? Even if it was only fifty euros. If someone were to pay Annie 50 euros she still wouldn't wear it.

  Both Lana and Dinah had been luckier. With Annie's money and rapturous approval, Lana had bought navy patent pumps with dainty heels and brogue detailing in suede at the front.

  'Oh they are so sweet!' Lana had declared.

  'To wear with ankle socks?' Annie had asked and when Lana had nodded in reply, Annie had agreed: 'Very cute.'

  Dinah had bought a pair of cream-coloured cashmere gloves and a little evening bag made of plaited gold leather. Annie had spotted the bag and had it brought out for them all to look at, but as she had (at the last count) thirty-seven evening bags and a calendar not exactly chock-a-block with glamorous evening events, she thought she'd better just let the bag pass and declared quite happily to Dinah, 'No, no, you go ahead. It's all yours.'

  'I like it, Mummy,' Billie had chipped in solemnly, taking the handbag out of her mother's hands and examining it carefully.

  'Well, if you like it Billie, we'll take it,' was Dinah's verdict.

  For a five-year-old, Billie was already in possession of precocious dressing and mixing and matching talents. Annie had an eye on Billie as a future business partner, no doubt about it. Take Billie's Italian shopping outfit, picked out all by herself, without a word of advice from Dinah (not that Billie took much of Dinah's advice anyway). She was wearing a pink, green and blue flowery skirt, teamed with a pink and blue striped T-shirt which exactly matched her cornflower blue eyes and blush-pink cheeks.

  Pink flip-flops and handbag completed the look, as well as the killer accessory: pink heart-shaped sunglasses.