Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 111
You know, maybe feng shui’s got something to it after all. Maybe this is the turning point. My life will be transformed from now on.
I take one final admiring look at it, then call out of the door, “I’m done!”
As Suze comes to the door I perch smugly on the bed and beam at her astounded expression.
“Bex, this is fantastic!” she says, peering disbelievingly around the cleared space. “And you’re so quick! It took me ages to sort all my stuff out!”
“Well, you know.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Once I decide to do something, I do it.”
She takes a few steps in, and looks in astonishment at my dressing table.
“I never knew that dressing table had a marble top!”
“I know!” I say proudly. “It’s quite nice, isn’t it?”
“But where’s all the rubbish? Where are the bin bags?”
“They’re… I’ve already got rid of them.”
“So did you chuck loads out?” she says, wandering over to the almost-empty mantelpiece. “You must have done!”
“A… a fair amount,” I say evasively. “You know. I was quite ruthless in the end.”
“I’m so impressed!” She pauses in front of the wardrobe, and I stare at her, suddenly nervous.
Don’t open it, I pray silently. Just don’t open it.
“Have you got anything left?” she says, with a grin, and pulls open the door of the wardrobe. And we both scream.
It’s like a nail-bomb explosion.
Except, instead of nails, it’s clothes.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I did wrong. But one of the bags bursts open, showering jumpers everywhere, and pushing all the other bags out. Then another one bursts open, and another one. It’s a clothes storm. Suze is completely covered in stretchy tops. A sequinned skirt lands on the light shade. A bra shoots across the room and hits the window. Suze is half-shrieking and half-laughing, and I’m flapping my arms madly and yelling, “Stop! Stop!”
And oh no.
Oh no. Please stop. Please.
But it’s too late. Now a cascade of gift-shop carrier bags is tumbling down from their hiding place on the top shelf. One after another, out into the daylight. They’re hitting Suze on the head, landing on the floor, and spilling open — and revealing the same contents in each. Gray sparkly boxes with a silver S C-S scrawled on the front.
About forty of them.
“What…” Suze pulls a T-shirt off her head and stares at them, open-mouthed. “Where on earth did you…” She scrabbles among the clothes littering the floor, picks up one of the boxes, and pulls it open and stares in silence. There, wrapped in turquoise tissue paper, is a photo frame made out of tan leather.
Oh God. Oh God.
Without saying anything, Suze bends down and picks up a Gifts and Goodies carrier bag. As she pulls it open, a receipt flutters to the floor. Silently she takes out the two boxes inside — and opens each to reveal a frame made of purple tweed.
I open my mouth to speak — but nothing comes out. For a moment we just stare at each other.
“Bex… how many of these have you got?” says Suze at last, in a slightly strangled voice.
“Um… not many!” I say, feeling my face grow hot. “Just… you know. A few.”
“There must be about… fifty here!”
“No!”
“Yes!” She looks around, cheeks growing pink with distress. “Bex, these are really expensive.”
“I haven’t bought that many!” I give a distracting laugh. “And I didn’t buy them all at once…”
“You shouldn’t have bought any! I told you, I’d make you one!”
“I know,” I say a little awkwardly. “I know you did. But I wanted to buy one. I just wanted to… to support you.”
There’s silence as Suze reaches for another Gifts and Goodies bag, and looks at the two boxes inside.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she says suddenly. “You’re the reason I’ve sold so well.”
“It’s not! Honestly, Suze—”
“You’ve spent all your money on buying my frames.” Her voice starts to wobble. “All your money. And now you’re in debt.”
“I haven’t!”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have my deal!”
“You would!” I say in dismay. “Of course you would! Suze, you make the best frames in the world! I mean… look at this one!” I grab for the nearest box and pull out a frame made out of distressed denim. “I would have bought this even if I hadn’t known you. I would have bought all of them!”
I take one final admiring look at it, then call out of the door, “I’m done!”
As Suze comes to the door I perch smugly on the bed and beam at her astounded expression.
“Bex, this is fantastic!” she says, peering disbelievingly around the cleared space. “And you’re so quick! It took me ages to sort all my stuff out!”
“Well, you know.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Once I decide to do something, I do it.”
She takes a few steps in, and looks in astonishment at my dressing table.
“I never knew that dressing table had a marble top!”
“I know!” I say proudly. “It’s quite nice, isn’t it?”
“But where’s all the rubbish? Where are the bin bags?”
“They’re… I’ve already got rid of them.”
“So did you chuck loads out?” she says, wandering over to the almost-empty mantelpiece. “You must have done!”
“A… a fair amount,” I say evasively. “You know. I was quite ruthless in the end.”
“I’m so impressed!” She pauses in front of the wardrobe, and I stare at her, suddenly nervous.
Don’t open it, I pray silently. Just don’t open it.
“Have you got anything left?” she says, with a grin, and pulls open the door of the wardrobe. And we both scream.
It’s like a nail-bomb explosion.
Except, instead of nails, it’s clothes.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I did wrong. But one of the bags bursts open, showering jumpers everywhere, and pushing all the other bags out. Then another one bursts open, and another one. It’s a clothes storm. Suze is completely covered in stretchy tops. A sequinned skirt lands on the light shade. A bra shoots across the room and hits the window. Suze is half-shrieking and half-laughing, and I’m flapping my arms madly and yelling, “Stop! Stop!”
And oh no.
Oh no. Please stop. Please.
But it’s too late. Now a cascade of gift-shop carrier bags is tumbling down from their hiding place on the top shelf. One after another, out into the daylight. They’re hitting Suze on the head, landing on the floor, and spilling open — and revealing the same contents in each. Gray sparkly boxes with a silver S C-S scrawled on the front.
About forty of them.
“What…” Suze pulls a T-shirt off her head and stares at them, open-mouthed. “Where on earth did you…” She scrabbles among the clothes littering the floor, picks up one of the boxes, and pulls it open and stares in silence. There, wrapped in turquoise tissue paper, is a photo frame made out of tan leather.
Oh God. Oh God.
Without saying anything, Suze bends down and picks up a Gifts and Goodies carrier bag. As she pulls it open, a receipt flutters to the floor. Silently she takes out the two boxes inside — and opens each to reveal a frame made of purple tweed.
I open my mouth to speak — but nothing comes out. For a moment we just stare at each other.
“Bex… how many of these have you got?” says Suze at last, in a slightly strangled voice.
“Um… not many!” I say, feeling my face grow hot. “Just… you know. A few.”
“There must be about… fifty here!”
“No!”
“Yes!” She looks around, cheeks growing pink with distress. “Bex, these are really expensive.”
“I haven’t bought that many!” I give a distracting laugh. “And I didn’t buy them all at once…”
“You shouldn’t have bought any! I told you, I’d make you one!”
“I know,” I say a little awkwardly. “I know you did. But I wanted to buy one. I just wanted to… to support you.”
There’s silence as Suze reaches for another Gifts and Goodies bag, and looks at the two boxes inside.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she says suddenly. “You’re the reason I’ve sold so well.”
“It’s not! Honestly, Suze—”
“You’ve spent all your money on buying my frames.” Her voice starts to wobble. “All your money. And now you’re in debt.”
“I haven’t!”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have my deal!”
“You would!” I say in dismay. “Of course you would! Suze, you make the best frames in the world! I mean… look at this one!” I grab for the nearest box and pull out a frame made out of distressed denim. “I would have bought this even if I hadn’t known you. I would have bought all of them!”
