Mini Shopaholic
Page 35
‘Nonsense,’ says Dad heatedly. ‘You know where our money goes? It’s on jam. How many pots of jam do we need? Who needs …’ He reaches into a cupboard and grabs a pot at random. ‘Gooseberry and elderflower?’
I bought that, actually, at a craft fair.
‘What do you expect me to do?’ exclaims Mum indignantly. ‘Survive on one miserable jar of cut-price goo made out of food-colouring and turnips?’
‘Maybe! Maybe we should be shopping at some of those lower-priced stores. We’re pensioners, Jane. We can’t afford to live the high life any more.’
‘It’s coffee,’ says Mum. ‘Those whatsit capsules of Becky’s. Nexpresso.’
‘Yes!’ Dad suddenly wakes up. ‘I utterly agree. Overpriced waste of money. How much is each one?’
They both turn and stare accusingly at me.
‘I need good coffee!’ I say in horror. ‘It’s my only luxury!’
I can’t live with my parents and drink bad coffee. It’s not humanly possible.
‘If you ask me, it’s the TV,’ I throw back at them. ‘You have it on too loud. It’s wasting energy.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ retorts Mum tartly.
‘Well, it’s not coffee!’
‘I think we could cut out all jam, starting tomorrow,’ Dad is saying. ‘All jam, all spreads—’
‘Well, if we’re going to do that, I’ll cut out food, shall I?’ retorts Mum shrilly. ‘I’ll just cut out all food, Graham, because that’s obviously a waste of money too—’
‘Anyway, Nespresso is a million times cheaper than going to a coffee shop,’ I’m trying to point out. ‘And you don’t even pay for it, I buy it myself on the internet! So—’
We’re all so busy arguing, it’s a while before I realize that Luke is in the doorway, watching, his mouth twitching at the edges in amusement.
‘Oh hi!’ I leap up, relieved to escape. ‘How’s it going? Are you OK?’
‘Fine.’ He nods. ‘I just popped up to say goodnight to Minnie. She was asleep.’ He smiles ruefully and I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He hardly ever sees Minnie these days.
‘She took all her toys to bed again,’ I tell him. ‘Including her dolls’ house.’
‘Again?’ He laughs.
Minnie’s latest trick is to get out of bed after I’ve said goodnight, gather all her toys and take them back to bed with her, so there’s barely any room for her. I went up earlier this evening and found her fast asleep, clasping her wooden pony, with about twenty soft toys and her dolls’ house all on top of the duvet, crowding her out of bed.
‘Luke!’ Mum finally notices him and stops mid-flow through a tirade about how Dad never even has toast for breakfast so what does he know? ‘We were just discussing the situation.’
‘Situation?’ He raises his eyebrows at me in query.
‘We’re all trying to think of ways to save money,’ I explain, hoping Luke might say, ‘What a ludicrous idea, everything’s on the up, let’s crack open some champagne.’
But he just nods thoughtfully. ‘That’s not a bad idea, the way things are going.’
‘But how are things going?’ Mum demands shrilly. ‘Luke, you know. Is the Daily World right or wrong? Because I heard a chap on the radio and he said there would be a domino effect. And we’re the dominoes!’
‘No, we’re not.’ Dad raises his eyes to heaven. ‘The banks are the dominoes.’
‘Well, what are we, then?’ Mum glares at him. ‘The dice?’
‘Jane,’ Luke interrupts tactfully. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear in the media. There are some extreme views out there. The truth is, it’s still too early to call. What I can say is, confidence has plummeted and there’s a lot of panic. Not just in banking, in every sector. Whether it’s justified … that’s the question.’
I can tell Mum’s not satisfied.
‘But what do the experts say?’ she persists.
‘Luke is an expert!’ I chime in, indignantly.
‘Economic gurus aren’t fortune-tellers, unfortunately.’ Luke shrugs. ‘And they don’t always agree. What I would say is, it’s never a bad idea to be prudent.’
‘Absolutely.’ Dad nods approvingly. ‘That’s what I was saying. Our spending has got quite out of hand, Jane, crisis or no crisis. Four pounds, this cost!’ He waves the jar of gooseberry jam. ‘Four pounds!’
I bought that, actually, at a craft fair.
‘What do you expect me to do?’ exclaims Mum indignantly. ‘Survive on one miserable jar of cut-price goo made out of food-colouring and turnips?’
‘Maybe! Maybe we should be shopping at some of those lower-priced stores. We’re pensioners, Jane. We can’t afford to live the high life any more.’
‘It’s coffee,’ says Mum. ‘Those whatsit capsules of Becky’s. Nexpresso.’
‘Yes!’ Dad suddenly wakes up. ‘I utterly agree. Overpriced waste of money. How much is each one?’
They both turn and stare accusingly at me.
‘I need good coffee!’ I say in horror. ‘It’s my only luxury!’
I can’t live with my parents and drink bad coffee. It’s not humanly possible.
‘If you ask me, it’s the TV,’ I throw back at them. ‘You have it on too loud. It’s wasting energy.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ retorts Mum tartly.
‘Well, it’s not coffee!’
‘I think we could cut out all jam, starting tomorrow,’ Dad is saying. ‘All jam, all spreads—’
‘Well, if we’re going to do that, I’ll cut out food, shall I?’ retorts Mum shrilly. ‘I’ll just cut out all food, Graham, because that’s obviously a waste of money too—’
‘Anyway, Nespresso is a million times cheaper than going to a coffee shop,’ I’m trying to point out. ‘And you don’t even pay for it, I buy it myself on the internet! So—’
We’re all so busy arguing, it’s a while before I realize that Luke is in the doorway, watching, his mouth twitching at the edges in amusement.
‘Oh hi!’ I leap up, relieved to escape. ‘How’s it going? Are you OK?’
‘Fine.’ He nods. ‘I just popped up to say goodnight to Minnie. She was asleep.’ He smiles ruefully and I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He hardly ever sees Minnie these days.
‘She took all her toys to bed again,’ I tell him. ‘Including her dolls’ house.’
‘Again?’ He laughs.
Minnie’s latest trick is to get out of bed after I’ve said goodnight, gather all her toys and take them back to bed with her, so there’s barely any room for her. I went up earlier this evening and found her fast asleep, clasping her wooden pony, with about twenty soft toys and her dolls’ house all on top of the duvet, crowding her out of bed.
‘Luke!’ Mum finally notices him and stops mid-flow through a tirade about how Dad never even has toast for breakfast so what does he know? ‘We were just discussing the situation.’
‘Situation?’ He raises his eyebrows at me in query.
‘We’re all trying to think of ways to save money,’ I explain, hoping Luke might say, ‘What a ludicrous idea, everything’s on the up, let’s crack open some champagne.’
But he just nods thoughtfully. ‘That’s not a bad idea, the way things are going.’
‘But how are things going?’ Mum demands shrilly. ‘Luke, you know. Is the Daily World right or wrong? Because I heard a chap on the radio and he said there would be a domino effect. And we’re the dominoes!’
‘No, we’re not.’ Dad raises his eyes to heaven. ‘The banks are the dominoes.’
‘Well, what are we, then?’ Mum glares at him. ‘The dice?’
‘Jane,’ Luke interrupts tactfully. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear in the media. There are some extreme views out there. The truth is, it’s still too early to call. What I can say is, confidence has plummeted and there’s a lot of panic. Not just in banking, in every sector. Whether it’s justified … that’s the question.’
I can tell Mum’s not satisfied.
‘But what do the experts say?’ she persists.
‘Luke is an expert!’ I chime in, indignantly.
‘Economic gurus aren’t fortune-tellers, unfortunately.’ Luke shrugs. ‘And they don’t always agree. What I would say is, it’s never a bad idea to be prudent.’
‘Absolutely.’ Dad nods approvingly. ‘That’s what I was saying. Our spending has got quite out of hand, Jane, crisis or no crisis. Four pounds, this cost!’ He waves the jar of gooseberry jam. ‘Four pounds!’
