Mini Shopaholic

by Sophie Kinsella

  ‘And so, in honour of the occasion …’ Dad clears his throat, suddenly sounding choked up. ‘Becky, we’d like you to have this.’ He hands me a present, wrapped up in tissue paper.

  ‘Oh my God! You shouldn’t have!’ I pull the tissue off – and it’s the picture of the lady with the flowers. The painting that’s been hanging on the upstairs landing for as long as I can remember.

  ‘Wh—What?’ I look up in shock. ‘I can’t take this! This belongs here!’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Mum suddenly looks misty-eyed. ‘When you were a little girl, you always said you wanted that picture in your room. And I used to say, “You can have it when you’re a grown-up lady with your very own house.”’ She dabs at her eyes. ‘And now here you are, darling. A grown-up lady with your very own house.’

  I’ve never felt more guilty in my life.

  ‘Well … thanks, Mum,’ I stutter. ‘I’m really honoured. It’ll have pride of place in our home.’

  ‘Maybe in that lovely hallway!’ suggests Mum. ‘It would look beautiful with that fireplace.’

  ‘Yes, maybe.’ My face is boiling by now.

  Oh God. This is unbearable. We must get on to the lawyer and speed everything up. And as soon as we’re in the proper house, we’ll have them over, and we’ll put the picture up and everything will be OK.

  ‘You will tell us when we can visit,’ says Mum longingly.

  ‘Well … we’ll come and see you very soon,’ I say, avoiding a direct answer. ‘I’ll call you later, Mum.’

  Luke and I clamber up into the cab of the lorry and Alf looks over. He’s so wizened he looks about a hundred and three although apparently he’s only seventy-one. He’s already told us he’s got a bad hip and a dodgy shoulder and a dicky chest, so the other lads are meeting him at the site to help move the boxes. ‘Ready?’ he rasps, his gold tooth glinting.

  ‘Yes, let’s go.’

  ‘Young lady want her raisins back?’ He’s got a whole fistful of them, I suddenly notice. Some of them chewed.

  ‘Minnie!’ I scold. ‘I’m so sorry, let me take those from you …’ I hastily cram the raisins back into Minnie’s snack box, then breathe out as the lorry rumbles out of the drive.

  ‘So, Mrs Home-owner,’ says Luke sardonically. ‘You must be feeling very proud.’

  ‘Shut up!’ I clasp my head in my hands. ‘Look … it’ll be OK. I’ll give it a couple of days and then I’ll phone home and make something up about the house needing renovation and say we’re renting somewhere. They’ll be fine. And then as soon as we do get the house we’ll have a big dinner for everyone.’

  ‘Christmas dinner, maybe.’ Luke nods. ‘Next year.’

  ‘What?’ I stare at him in horror. ‘Don’t be silly! It’s not going to take that long to get the house. The lawyer said it would all be sorted out quickly!’

  ‘Which in lawyer-speak means Christmas next year.’

  ‘No it doesn’t—’

  ‘Is that your mum?’ interrupts Alf conversationally.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Blue Volvo? They’re following us.’ He nods at the wing mirror and I stare into it in disbelief. There they are. Driving along right behind us. What’s Mum doing, following us?

  I whip out my phone and speed-dial her number.

  ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ I say with no preamble.

  ‘Oh, Becky!’ Her voice rings out. ‘You’ve ruined the surprise! Graham, I told you to stay further back! They’ve seen us!’

  ‘Mum, listen to me.’ I know I sound jumpy but I can’t help it. ‘You’re not supposed to be coming with us. We said we’d tell you when we were ready for you to come and visit.’

  ‘Becky, love!’ Mum laughs. ‘This is your first house! The first property you’ve ever owned! We don’t mind what state it’s in!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Darling, I know what you said. And to be honest, we were planning to let you have your privacy. But then we just couldn’t resist it! We couldn’t let you just slip off without helping you. I’ve brought some teacakes and Dad’s got his tools. We’ll help you get ship-shape in no time …’

  My heart is thudding. There’s no way I can let them turn up at some crummy rented townhouse. Not after Dad’s speech.

  ‘We could even pop round and meet your new neighbours!’ Mum’s still talking cheerily. ‘They might turn out to be good friends to you, Becky. I mean, look at me and Janice, still friends after thirty years. I can remember the day we first moved in, and Janice came round with a bottle of sherry … Ooh, Dad says, can you remind him of the address in case we get separated?’

  My mind works like a spring trap.

  ‘Mum, I can’t hear you … I’m losing you …’ I rub the phone against my bag to make a kerfuffly noise, then switch it off and look at Luke. ‘It’s OK. They don’t know the address.’ I turn urgently to Alf. ‘We need to lose them.’

  ‘Lose them?’

  ‘Yes! Like in cop films. Duck down a side alley or whatever.’

  ‘A side alley?’ He sounds startled. ‘What side alley?’

  ‘I don’t know! Find one. You know, like in car chases!’ Doesn’t he watch movies?

  ‘I think my wife wants you to drive very fast down a narrow one-way street the wrong way, knock over a barrow of fruit, send crowds of people screaming, roll the van 360 degrees, and manage to elude my parents-in-law that way,’ says Luke in a deadpan voice. ‘I’m assuming you are a stunt removal driver?’

  ‘Shut up.’ I hit him on the chest. ‘Do you realize the situation we’re in?’

  ‘If it were up to me we wouldn’t be in this situation,’ he says calmly. ‘Because we would have told your parents the truth in the first place.’

  We pull up at a set of traffic lights. Mum and Dad pull up alongside and wave merrily, and I wave back with a sick grin.

  ‘OK,’ I instruct Alf. ‘When the lights change, you go!’

  ‘This is a lorry, duck, not a Ferrari.’

  The lights change, and I start gesturing ‘Go, go!’ with my hands. Alf just shoots me a baleful look and puts the truck into gear unhurriedly.

  Honestly. I feel like offering to drive myself.

  ‘Sorry folks. Fuel stop.’ Alf pulls into a service station, and sure enough, Mum and Dad’s Volvo follows us. A few moments later, Mum has got out of the car, bustled over and is knocking on the door of the cab.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she calls up.

  ‘Of course!’ I wind down the window and smile brightly. ‘Just getting some petrol.’

  ‘Only, I’ve got Janice on the line. You wouldn’t mind if she came along too, would you, love?’

  What?

  Before I can answer, Mum’s turned back to the phone. ‘Yes, we’re at the BP with the café … see you in a tick! Janice and Martin were in the car already, coming back from Yogacise …’ She turns to me. ‘There they are!’ She waves frantically as a black Audi turns in at the service-station entrance. ‘Yoo-hoo!’

  ‘Becky!’ Janice leans out of the window as the Audi approaches. ‘You don’t mind, do you, dear? Only your mum’s told us all about the house. So exciting!’

  ‘You follow us,’ Mum is telling Martin. ‘And we’ll follow the truck.’

  I don’t believe this. We’ve got a convoy.

  ‘Put “Maida Vale” in your sat nav, Martin,’ Mum’s saying bossily ‘That way, even if we do get separated – Becky, what’s the exact address?’ She suddenly calls over to me.

  ‘I … er … I’ll text you …’

  I’ve got to tell her the truth. I’ve got to. Right now.

  ‘The thing is, Mum …’ I swallow and look over at Luke for support, but he’s got out of the truck and is taking a call on the forecourt.

  ‘No, it’s not fucking OK,’ I can hear him saying.

  Oh God. He looks really angry. What’s going on?

  ‘Becky.’ I jump as Janice appears out of nowhere, blinking at me through the cab window. She’s wearing a bright-pink yog
a outfit which makes my eyes hurt just to look at it, together with pop socks and clogs. It’s a look which some edgy nineteen-year-old model could just about carry off. ‘I just wanted a little discreet word, while Luke is out of the way.’ She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. ‘It’s about the P. A. R. T. Y. I was reading Hello! the other day. That “Royal Fashion” party. Did you see it?’

  I nod absently, watching Luke. He’s moved away from the cab, but I’m pretty sure he’s yelling at somebody. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like Minnie to hear his language.

  Is he having a row with Sage Seymour? Is he breaking things off with her before I’ve even had a chance to meet her and become her best friend? If so, I will kill him.

  ‘… and they had a touch-up area for all the celebrities!’ Janice finishes with a flourish. ‘You see?’

  I must have missed a beat somewhere.

  ‘Sorry, Janice.’ I smile apologetically. ‘I wasn’t quite following you.’

  ‘I’m a make-up artist, love,’ she says as though it’s obvious. ‘And I’d like to volunteer to host a little touch-up area myself. I’ll make up all the guests! It will be my gift to Luke.’

  I’m speechless. Janice is not a make-up artist. She did one course at the adult-learning institute, and learned how to apply peach blusher and highlighter in badger stripes to a plastic dummy’s cheeks. And now she wants to make up people at my party?

  ‘Janice … that’s so sweet,’ I say as convincingly as I can. ‘But you mustn’t miss the fun.’

  ‘We’d have shifts!’ she says triumphantly. ‘I’ve got a team of chums, you know! We were all on the course together, so we all use the same techniques.’

  The idea of a team of Janices, all clutching palettes of frosted eyeshadow, makes me feel a bit faint.

  ‘Right,’ I manage. ‘Well, that would be really … something.’

  OK. I need to put this on my to-do list, right at the top. Do NOT let Janice do any make-up on the guests.

  ‘Better go,’ she breathes dramatically. ‘Luke approaching at one o’clock.’

  Before I can say anything else, she’s slipped away to her car, just as Luke gets back into the driver’s cab.

  ‘Unbelievable.’ He’s breathing fast and his jaw is rock-hard. ‘Unbelievable.’

  ‘What is it?’ I say nervously. ‘And don’t swear in front of Minnie.’

  ‘Becky, I’ve got bad news.’ Luke looks directly at me. ‘The townhouse has fallen through. We can’t have it.’

  For a nano-second I think he must be joking. But his face doesn’t flicker.

  ‘But …’

  ‘Some fucking moron at the office rented it to another tenant. They’ve already taken possession and our agent has only just realized.’

  ‘But it’s ours!’ My voice is rising in panic. ‘We need that house!’

  ‘I know. Believe me, they know it, too. They’re finding us an alternative within the hour or we’re checking into a hotel at their expense.’ He exhales. ‘What a total fuck-up.’

  I feel a bit light-headed. This can’t be happening.

  ‘I’d better tell your parents …’ Luke makes to get out.

  ‘No!’ I almost squeal. ‘We can’t!’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest doing?’

  I can see Mum waving at me from the Volvo, and a moment later a text comes through on my phone.

  Ready to go, love?

  ‘Let’s just drive to Maida Vale.’ I lick my dry lips. ‘We might as well. And hopefully the agents will call on the way. We can busk it somehow.’

  Alf has hoisted himself back into the cab.

  ‘Ready, folks?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, before Luke can speak. ‘Drive. Go.’

  It’ll take us an hour to get to Maida Vale, I’m thinking. At least. And in the meantime they’ll sort us out with another house and we’ll go there and it’ll all be fine. It has to be.

  Except it only takes forty minutes to reach Maida Vale. I can’t believe it. Where’s all the traffic gone? Is there a conspiracy against us?

  We’re driving up the main shopping road and we still don’t have a house. My exterior is strangely calm, even though my heart is galloping with panic. As long as we keep driving, we’re OK.

  ‘Go more slowly,’ I tell Alf yet again. ‘Go some winding back route. Go down there!’ I point at a narrow little street.

  ‘No left turn,’ says Alf, shaking his head.

  We’ve told Alf the whole story. Or at least, he worked it out for himself, after Luke had a shouting match with the agent. (Luckily Minnie’s fallen asleep. Two-year-olds can sleep through anything.) Luke’s started calling other rental agencies as well – but so far, no one’s got a house available that can be moved into within the next twenty minutes. I feel like screaming with frustration. Where are all the houses? And where’s all the traffic?

  I glance into the wing mirror, just in case by any chance Mum and Dad have peeled off or got lost – but there they still are, sticking to us like glue. Luke’s listening to a message on his phone and I gaze hopefully at him, but he shakes his head.

  ‘So where d’you want me to go now?’ Alf pauses at a junction, rests his arms on the throbbing steering wheel and looks at me.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say desperately. ‘Could you just … circle?’

  ‘Circle?’ He gives me a sardonic look. ‘Do I look like a plane?’

  ‘Please. Just for a bit.’

  Shaking his head, Alf signals left and turns down a residential street. We go along the canal, then up another residential street and are almost immediately back where we started.

  ‘That was too quick!’ I say in dismay.

  Sure enough, a moment later, a text comes through from Mum:

  Darling, is your driver lost? We’ve been down this road before. Dad says, what’s the address, he’ll use his sat nav.

  ‘Becky.’ Luke has come off the phone. ‘We can’t just drive round Maida Vale until we have a house.’

  ‘Any luck, squire?’ says Alf. He seems to have a new respect for Luke ever since he heard him swearing at the agent. In fact, despite all his sardonic little looks, I think he’s enjoying the drama.

  ‘None,’ replies Luke. ‘Becky, we’re going to have to come clean.’

  ‘No. Not yet. Let’s … let’s stop for lunch!’ I say in sudden inspiration. ‘We’ll find a coffee shop or something. Luke, here’s the plan. I’ll keep Mum and Dad entertained, and you go and see the agent, and force him to give us a house.’

  Alf rolls his eyes with forbearance and is soon trying to manoeuvre the lorry into a space opposite a Café Rouge. I watch the others pulling over too, and Janice getting out to guide Martin with lots of beckoning and pointing and ‘Careful, Martin!’

  I unbuckle Minnie and we all get out, stretching our legs. I feel like we’ve been on some massive road trip, not just driven up from Oxshott.

  ‘Hi!’ I wave at the others, trying to look relaxed and cheery, like this was always the plan.

  ‘What’s going on, love?’ Mum is first to reach us. ‘Is this it?’ She’s peering at all the flats above the shops, as though one might suddenly turn out to be a family house with a basement and a garden and two parking spaces.

  ‘Trust Becky to live among the shops.’ Martin gives a chortle at his own wit.

  ‘No, this isn’t where we’re going to live!’ I laugh as naturally as I can manage. ‘We’re stopping for lunch.’

  There’s a baffled silence.

  ‘Lunch, love?’ says Janice at last. ‘But it’s only twenty past ten.’

  ‘Yes, well. The … um … The lorry driver has to have lunch. It’s union regulations,’ I improvise, and shoot a meaningful look at Alf. ‘Isn’t it, Alf?’

  ‘But we must be only a few minutes away from the house,’ says Mum. ‘This is ridiculous!’

  ‘I know,’ I say hurriedly. ‘But the union’s really strict. We don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Don’t blame me,’ says Alf, playi
ng along. ‘I don’t make the rules.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ says Dad impatiently. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense.’ He turns to Alf. ‘Now, look here. Couldn’t you drop Becky at the house and then have lunch?’

  ‘Rules is rules,’ says Alf, shaking his head implacably. ‘I break ‘em, I’m up before a disciplinary tribunal and that’s my job on the line, that is. I’ll go and have my well-earned break and you let me know when you’re ready to go, all right, my love?’ He gives me a wink and heads into Café Rouge.

  God, he’s fantastic. I feel like giving him a hug.

  ‘Well!’ Mum seems outraged. ‘Now we know what’s wrong with this country! Who wrote these rules, anyway? I’m writing to the Daily World, and the Prime Minister …’

  As we troop into Café Rouge she casts Alf a baleful look, and he waves cheerfully back.

  ‘Everyone should order lots,’ I say as we find a table. ‘I mean, we’ll be here a while, waiting for Alf. Have a sandwich, a croissant, a steak … it’s all on me … Minnie, no.’ I hastily remove the sugar lumps before she can grab them all.

  ‘Where’s Luke?’ says Mum suddenly.

  ‘He’s at the estate agent’s,’ I say truthfully.

  ‘Getting the keys, I expect,’ says Dad, nodding cheerfully. ‘I think I’ll have a panini.’

  *

  I try to spin out lunch for as long as I can. But no one wants steak at ten twenty in the morning, and there’s only so many croissants you can eat. We’ve each had two cappuccinos, and Luke still hasn’t texted any good news, and Minnie’s already bored with all the toys in the play box. And now, to my alarm, Mum and Dad are getting fidgety.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ Mum suddenly says, as she watches Alf order yet another hot chocolate. ‘I’m not waiting around here for some jobsworth driver to finish his lunch! Graham, you wait here and Becky and I will walk to the house. We can walk from here, can’t we, love?’

  I feel a stab of alarm.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mum,’ I say hurriedly. ‘I think we should wait for Luke and all go in the van.’

  ‘Don’t be silly! We’ll call Luke and tell him we’re going straight there. We can pick the keys up on the way. What’s the address? Is it near?’