How Not To Shop

by Carmen Reid

  Annie stole a glimpse around the room. Every face was glued to the screen. No-one was looking at her, everyone was waiting expectantly to see if the woman they knew so well, the one sitting right in their midst, could manage to pull this off.

  Except suddenly Annie's mother looked round and gave her a reassuring smile. 'Relax, sweetheart!' the comforting voice assured her, 'you're going to be fantastic. I know.'

  'Shhhhhhh!' Lana shushed her gran.

  The music had stopped and Miss Marlise was standing in front of Cath's house delivering her tirade.

  'That's not very nice,' came Fern's comment.

  'No,' Ed agreed.

  'And she is exactly like that in real life,' Annie slipped in, 'a complete cow.'

  Cath appeared on the screen looking beige, stern and extremely nervous.

  'Oh boy!' Lana exclaimed, 'you had to get her all dressed up and off to the ball. No wonder you were worried!'

  This time it was Owen's turn to demand quiet. But then any chance to tell his big sister off for anything and he was straight in there.

  'Milo, I think you're a bit close to the . . .' Annie began but the words dried up in her throat because there she was on screen, being beamed into who knows how many houses up and down the country.

  She could hear the intake of breath in the room.

  'You look fantastic!' Ed whispered and squeezed her round the waist.

  'Look at you, gorgeous!' Paula shrieked, 'Rockin' the Chloé!'

  'I look huge!' Annie whined, watching as her on-screen self swung her rear end unflatteringly at the screen in an effort to get to the bottom of Cath's wardrobe, 'Oh no,' she wailed, 'I'm fatter than Sarah Beeny and she's almost always pregnant!'

  'Be quiet! I want to hear what you're saying,' Dinah hissed.

  Then there was total silence from the audience in the room; well, apart from chomping as Milo and Owen worked their way steadily through the popcorn bucket.

  They all saw Cath in close-up and heard her words about not having anything nice to wear and her husband leaving her on her birthday.

  'Awww, bless,' Paula sympathized at once.

  'You're a natural,' Ed told Annie and landed a kiss on her ear. 'You're going to be a huge star. I can retire,' he joked.

  Although this was very flattering, Annie wanted a professional opinion. 'Did you hear that?' she asked Connor.

  'Brilliant!' he told her, 'and how do you look?'

  'Like a whale,' she groaned.

  'You do not, Mum!' Lana insisted. 'You look normal and real, not like her!'

  Everyone's attention was now transfixed by Svetlana. There she was lounging on Cath's bed, flashing her legs and her cleavage this way and that.

  'You look much, much better than her,' Ed assured her.

  'She's so over-dressed,' Fern commented, 'and how old is she, Annie?'

  'Thirty-six again,' came Annie's reply, 'but she looks great, Mum. And she works so hard at it. I bought that dress with her; she's got the bod, she can totally carry it off.'

  'Treat your man good,' Svetlana was panting into the camera, 'flatter him, never forget to every day massage his . . .' she paused with a saucy eyebrow quirk here, 'ego. If your man is happy,' Svetlana added, thrusting her cleavage at the camera, 'he will make you very, verrrrry happy.'

  At this Dinah gave such a severe snort of laughter that a small crumb of popcorn shot out of her nose.

  'I can't believe she just said that. Where is she from, Annie? The Dark Ages?'

  'The Ukraine,' Annie replied.

  'It's Mum again,' Owen pointed out.

  'Are you at Bluewater?' Lana recognized the shopping centre.

  'Yes, we have a bad moment in Wallis and a very good moment in Dorothy Perkins,' Annie rushed to explain, but now, scrunching the cushion hard against her stomach, she watched herself bustle about Cath and then, a few TV minutes and an ad break later, about Jody.

  'The trilby is genius!' Paula told her, 'so like . . .' she began, and then Annie joined in with her, 'Marc by Marc Jacobs, this season!'

  Both burst out laughing.

  When Annie made a little speech to Jody about not needing to be blonde or wear short skirts but just to be yourself, Dinah, Fern and Lana all cheered.

  Then Miss Marlise was on screen treating the women to her 'career advice'. It was peppered with the kind of tips that would suit Miss Marlise but not many others: 'Don't let anyone stand in your way. If you think you have a rival, take them on and take them out!'

  'I think you've done a wonderful job on both of them, Annie,' Fern whispered. 'What Miss Bossy Boots and the Russian trophy wife have to do with it all I don't know, the programme should just be about you. What's Miss Bossy Boots just told that woman: demand a pay rise? That poor dear looks so embarrassed. Probably all she can think about is that her boss might be watching.'

  'Shh, Mum! It's the ball,' Dinah broke in. 'Wow! What an amazing venue! Did you dress up too, Annie?'

  The question was answered as the camera panned across the Tate Modern's vast ground floor and picked out Svetlana and Harry, Miss Marlise whispering instructions into Jody's ear and Annie in her classy red dress holding Cath by the arm.

  Shots of Jody chatting to the arty guy and Cath giggling at the handsome PR followed. When the guy who'd been talking to Jody asked her to dance, there was another intake of breath in the room.

  'Oh she looks so cute,' Dinah told them, 'he's definitely interested, isn't he?'

  'Oh!' Greta, Lana's friend, pointed out, 'there's Cath on the dance floor, who's she—'

  Before she could finish the question, Cath spun so that everyone could see her dancing partner. It was Annie.

  'Go, girls!' Paula declared.

  'She deserved some fun!' Annie defended herself.

  The camera closed in on Annie's smiling face just as she shot Bob, the cameraman a wink.

  Then the credits rolled.

  Everyone dissolved into the rollicking laughter of relief and shouted out congratulations.

  'Brilliant!' Ed kissed her on the cheek, 'I am so proud of you. You were brilliant!'

  'Yeah Mum, you were great,' Lana added.

  Annie watched the credits, reading each of the names of the team she now knew so well, in turn. Then she put the phone to her ear again.

  'Did they close on you?' Connor asked in surprise. 'That's good, that's really good. You're a star, Annie Valentine! This is where it all begins.'

  'Did it sound OK?' she asked anxiously. 'Did I sound OK?'

  'You sounded just like yourself, which is great,' Connor gushed. 'That's all the camera wants, people to be just like themselves. So, I hope you're wearing nice knickers.'

  'Why?!'

  'Because that man of yours is going to be insatiable tonight . . . unstoppable,' Connor teased, 'the aphrodisiac of fame. I'm telling you, baby, better believe it. You are in for a long night.'

  'I have to go,' Annie told him, as her mobile burst into life.

  'Go,' Connor told her, 'your fans need you.'

  This made them both snort with laughter.

  'Svetlana!' Annie answered the phone, 'what did you think?'

  'Vonderful!' came the gushing response, 'Ve all look fantastic. Ve do great job. Harry thinks best programme he's ever seen.'

  'Yeah, well, no surprise there!' Annie laughed.

  'My other line is calling . . . I see you tomorrow,' Svetlana explained before ringing off.

  At this point Fern delved into her sturdy M&S shopper.

  'Aw Mum,' Dinah joked, 'you've had it personalized.'

  'Huh?' Fern looked at the outside of her shopper.

  'A bag for life,' Dinah explained.

  'Oh ha-ha, very funny,' Fern replied, then pulled out a bottle of champagne. 'C'mon everyone, time to celebrate. It's not every day that your daughter appears on national bloody television.'

  'Er well . . . not sure that the Home Sweet Home channel is big enough to be national,' Annie began.

  'Nonsense,' her mother insisted.


  Glasses came out along with more crisps, more quiche and more Cokes for the children.

  'Owen, is that your third?' Annie wondered at some point. 'You won't sleep a wink. That's far too much caffeine.'

  'Mum, is that your third?' Owen pointed at her champagne glass.

  'Was I OK?' she asked her son. She desperately wanted to hug him in under her arm and mess with his hair a bit, but she understood that with Milo present that would have been committing a motherly crime of embarrassment of monumental proportions.

  'Yeah, you were fine,' came Owen's reply as he stretched his arm out once more for the crisp bowl.

  She knew she couldn't expect much more gushing from her son. He was a man of few words. But if he thought it was 'fine', that was probably OK.

  Greta and Lana were far more voluble in their praise. They told Annie all about which outfits they'd liked best and where else she should go shopping on the high street, then disappeared upstairs to MSN all of Lana's friends who'd been told to watch tonight and make a full report.

  Paula had to leave promptly too: 'I have an interesting meeting and that's all I'm saying.'

  Once Fern was alone in the room with her two daughters and Ed, she surprised them by announcing: 'I've got a new medical condition: high blood pressure.'

  'Really?' Annie felt a pang of worry. 'It's nothing serious though, is it?'

  'I'm still only sixty-four,' Fern reminded her, 'not quite at the age where everything and anything is serious.'

  'But still . . .' Dina joined in.

  'Are you OK?' Ed was quick to express his concern.

  Fern smiled warmly in his direction. She had a big soft spot for Ed: not just because he was so obviously good for her daughter but because he'd lost his own mother just a few years ago and he hadn't been shy about letting Fern fill at least a little of the gaping vacancy in his life.

  'I'm going to be fine. I'm on this course of spanking new drugs and my doctor—'

  'Which one is this?' Dinah broke in. 'Not the foxy Dr Bill? You're not making up ailments just so you can go and hang out with him?'

  'No I am not, but he's been marvellous. A tower . . .'

  'Of strength,' Dinah and Annie chimed in together.

  'Mum!' Annie rolled her eyes and pretended to be stern, 'is this how it is dating in your sixties? You have to have an illness to get a bit of attention?' She was trying not to laugh.

  'Annie, that's enough!' Fern picked up the champagne bottle and topped up everyone's glasses. 'Now, what's up with you, Dinah? You look a bit puffy.' This was said kindly, Fern tilting her head understandingly at her youngest girl.

  'Oh,' Dinah was caught off guard, 'I wasn't going to say anything yet . . .'

  Annie could feel her stomach skip. This was one of her dearest, dearest people in the world. Say what? Why didn't Annie know? What was the matter with Dinah?

  'We're back on the IVF treadmill,' Dinah admitted.

  'No!!' Fern and Annie gasped in horror. Whereas Ed just gave a small smile meant to express both his understanding and his sympathy.

  'But I thought Billie was going to be the one and only,' Annie said, referring to Dinah and Bryan's precious, cherished six-year-old daughter.

  'You went through so much to have her,' Fern agreed; 'are you going to put the three of you through all that again?'

  Dinah looked so taken aback at this reaction from them both that Annie immediately felt guilty. She and her mother had said the wrong thing, however well it was meant.

  'I thought you'd be more supportive . . .' Dinah began.

  'I'm sorry, babes,' Annie rushed over to Dinah's side of the sofa and put an arm round her, 'of course we should be more supportive. I'm sure you and Bryan have decided to do what's best for you. I'm sorry. We just saw how rough it was the first time.'

  'But you can't say it wasn't worth it,' Dinah pointed out.

  'Billie is fantastic,' Annie agreed.

  'Ah Billie, there's only one Billie!' Fern was quick to add.

  'Yes,' Dinah said, 'there's only one . . .'

  She didn't need to say anything more.

  Annie's mind was reeling: first Ed, then Connor, now Dinah . . . was there some sort of baby virus out there? Who was going to catch it next?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Post-bath Annie:

  Blue silk slip (La Senza)

  Clarins body lotion (eBay)

  Sisley night cream, out of date (The Store's staff-only bargains)

  Total est. cost: £40

  'Did you put the cats out?'

  It was always close to midnight when things were finally calm and quiet in Annie's household.

  She came out of the shower, dried and dressed for bed, then did a final tour of the house, checking that Owen's covers were on and Lana's lights were out.

  When Annie pushed open the bedroom door, she understood at once that Ed was waiting for her . . . expectantly.

  The light was low, provided by a small sidelight and the cluster of candles which had been lit in the room's long defunct fireplace. Music, the second love of Ed's life, was oozing from the iPod speakers right beside the bed, something soft and seductive that she didn't recognize. But then this was a man who delved for obscure CDs at charity shops and market stalls. Everything had been tidied away, so the room looked peaceful and calm, the idea being that she shouldn't be distracted, she should concentrate on her man already in bed, waiting for her.

  He smiled and put down his book. He wasn't wearing a top but he was still wearing his glasses, a look which she found irresistibly sexy. She wasn't even sure why; it was like catching him half undressed. Or maybe it was the combination of intellectual glasses and big arm muscles which pressed all the right buttons for Annie.

  'Did you put the cats out?' she asked him.

  'Uh-huh,' he answered, with a little smile.

  'Empty the dryer?'

  'Oh yeah.'

  'Wash out the packed-lunch boxes?'

  'Ooooh, your sexy talk is turning me on . . .' he teased, 'Come over here!' He held out his arms to her.

  'The aphrodisiac of fame . . . Connor's warned me, you know.'

  She let her dressing gown fall open and walked towards him in the slinky ink-blue slip she'd put on after her shower, just for him.

  As she reached the bed, she slid her hands over his arms and said, 'Last household chore of the day, huh?'

  'Oh yeah,' he agreed, looking at her appreciatively, 'last household chore of the day. Come here,' he instructed.

  She knelt over him and they began to kiss.

  His tongue felt warm and minty against hers. She felt the soft silk of her slip sliding over her breasts.