Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella Read Free Book Online Page B

trendy—and wish I were wearing white linen trousers and had my hair slicked back like Yasmin Le Bon to match.
    It just shows I’ve got good taste. Didn’t I pick out this bowl—sorry, this
piece
—all by myself? Didn’t I spot its quality? Already I can see our sitting room redesigned entirely around it, all pale and minimalist. Eighty quid. That’s nothing for a timeless piece of style like this.
    “I’ll have it,” I say determinedly, and reach inside my bag for my checkbook. The thing is, I remind myself, buying cheap is actually a false economy. It’s much better to spend a little more and make a serious purchase that’ll last for a lifetime. And this bowl is quite clearly a classic. Suze is going to be
so
impressed.
     
     
    When we get back home, Mum goes straight inside, but I stay in the driveway, carefully transferring my purchases from her car to mine.
    “Becky! What a surprise!”
    Oh God. It’s Martin Webster from next door, leaning over the fence with a rake in his hand and a huge friendly smile on his face. Martin has this way of always making me feel guilty, I don’t know why.
    Actually I do know why. It’s because I know he was always hoping I would grow up and marry Tom, his son. And I haven’t. The history of my relationship with Tom is: he asked me out once when we were both about sixteen and I said no, I was going out with Adam Moore. That was the end of it and thank God for that. To be perfectly honest, I would rather marry Martin himself than marry Tom.
    “Hi!” I say overenthusiastically. “How are you?”
    “Oh, we’re all doing well,” says Martin. “You heard Tom’s bought a house?”
    “Yes,” I say. “In Reigate. Fantastic!”
    “It’s got two bedrooms, shower room, reception room, and open-plan kitchen,” he recites. “Limed oak units in the kitchen.”
    “Gosh,” I say. “How fab.”
    “Tom’s thrilled with it,” says Martin. “Janice!” he adds in a yell. “Come and see who’s here!”
    A moment later, Janice appears on the front doorstep, wearing her floral apron.
    “Becky!” she says. “What a stranger you’ve become! How long is it?”
    Now I feel guilty for not visiting my parents more often.
    “Well,” I say, trying to give a nonchalant smile. “You know. I’m quite busy with my job and everything.”
    “Oh yes,” says Janice, giving an awe-stricken nod. “Your
job
.”
    Somewhere along the line, Janice and Martin have got it into their heads that I’m this high-powered financial whiz kid. I’ve tried telling them that really, I’m not—but the more I deny it, the more high powered they think I am. It’s a catch-22. They now think I’m high powered
and
modest.
    Still, who cares? It’s actually quite fun, playing a financial genius.
    “Yes, actually we’ve been quite busy lately,” I say coolly. “What with the merger of SBG and Rutland.”
    “Of course,” breathes Janice.
    “You know, that reminds me,” says Martin suddenly. “Becky, wait there. Back in two ticks.” He disappears before I can say anything, and I’m left awkwardly with Janice.
    “So,” I say inanely. “I hear Tom’s got limed oak units in his kitchen!”
    This is literally the only thing I can think of to say. I smile at Janice, and wait for her to reply. But instead, she’s beaming at me delightedly. Her face is all lit up—and suddenly I realize I’ve made a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have mentioned Tom’s bloody starter home. I shouldn’t have mentioned the limed oak units. She’ll think I suddenly fancy Tom, now he’s got a starter home to his name.
    “It’s limed oak and Mediterranean tiles,” she says proudly. “It was a choice of Mediterranean or Farmhouse Quarry, and Tom chose Mediterranean.”
    For an instant I consider saying I would have chosen Farmhouse Quarry. But that seems a bit mean.
    “Lovely,” I say. “And two bedrooms!”
    Why can’t I get off the subject of this bloody starter home?
    “He wanted two bedrooms,”