Elena in the changing room:
Pink and black backless, sideless, strapless dress
(River Island)
Black peep-toe, ankle-strap heels (River Island)
Armful of bangles (same)
Black clutch bag (same)
Total est. cost: £95
‘What I not have is clothes for fun.’
‘I think maybe you should go away and shop on your own!’ came Lauren’s angry response to her mother’s comment about the outfit she’d just strutted from the changing room in.
It was almost 4 on a Sunday afternoon in the shopping centre closest to Annie’s home. Although she had only spent fifty minutes touring the shops here with Lauren and Elena, she was already convinced that it was fifty minutes too long.
‘But don’t you need me for the bit at the till?’ Annie reminded her daughter, glaring at the skimpy vest and skin-tight PVC trousers she was wearing… perhaps because Elena had selected exactly the same items from the racks.
Elena’s taste in clothing was… well, ‘breathtaking’ might be the word. Nothing was too tight or too skimpy or too strappy for Svetlana Junior.
‘Weren’t you thinking about job interviews?’ Annie couldn’t help asking when Elena stepped out of the changing room in a dress that seemed to be backless as well as sideless.
‘They have some very smart suits here,’ Annie added, without much hope.
‘I have suit,’ Elena had airily waved away the advice, ‘I have clothes to be warm. I have clothes to work. But my mother give me money and what I not have is clothes for fun.’
Oh boy… just how much fun was the supermodel lookalike planning to have while she was under Annie’s roof?
One glance at the growing pile of club wear in the changing room would suggest: a lot.
It was when Elena started giving Lauren advice about what to buy that Annie began to get worried.
‘You have good legs,’ Elena had told Lauren. ‘You must have very short skirt!’
‘No,’ Lauren answered Annie huffily now, ‘I don’t need you at the till, I’ve got my pocket money!’
Although Annie felt offended, she relaxed at this news. She only gave Lauren £5 a week, so how much bad fashion could she buy on her savings?
‘Fine,’ she’d huffed back, ‘I’ll leave you both to it. I’ll go and shop for myself and I’ll meet you both for coffee at…’ she looked at her watch, ‘5 p.m.’
‘Good!’ Lauren agreed.
And that was how Annie had found herself wandering through several clothes shops with no one else’s wardrobe on her mind but her own.
Working in The Store had spoiled her, there was no doubt about it. The clothes were all so cheap in here. Look at the hems, so small and tight. And the material was not nearly as nice as she was used to. The jackets all seemed to be made of wool blended with a touch of sandpaper and the blouses were thin and insubstantial polycotton, bulked up with fillers which would disappear in the first wash.
Still… oooh! Her hand went to the rail. Now that was a very, very lovely pink silk shirt. She pulled it out and examined the label. Only £45!
This season, she was in love with every single one of the new colours: the pinks, the oranges, the yellows and the moody greens. She wanted something in every shade.
If she added just a few new scarves or cotton tops in the right colours, she would be refreshing everything in her wardrobe.
Mmmm… the jewellery here was absolutely delicious too. That glossy fat bangle in pinky purple? That was just exactly what she wanted. And the magenta batwing jumper?
She took it down for a closer look. It was so strange when things you had worn in the past, loved, then got over and finally loathed, came back around again. Look at this. She’d had one almost exactly the same in cobalt blue when she was seventeen.
Her blue one had had the same slashed neck but longer sleeves. Clearly, the designers had gone back to the drawing board with the batwing and accepted that the only way it worked was with elbow-length sleeves. That way, you could put your arms down and not flap about like an actual bat.
Looking at this jumper Annie decided she had to try it on, at least for old times’ sake. She even remembered the confusion with the old cobalt one: what with the slash neck and the draping sleeves, it was almost impossible to tell which way up the thing went.
In the changing room with an armful of stuff, Annie went about her shopping professionally, assessing everything, mindful of how it looked on her, rather than the hanger, and making a mental list of what it would go with back at home, in the master wardrobe.
The one thing she didn’t really give much thought to was price. There was about £3.26 left in her bank account, so technically, she couldn’t afford anything. But, she was reasoning with herself, this was chain-store shopping. If she bought a few things here with her overdraft, the damage wouldn’t be so bad. And… did she need anything else? Ed was always asking her what she needed. And couldn’t she think about that a bit more when she was shopping.
Right now, she needed to feel very fresh, very current. She was on TV, giving people fashion advice, surely it was really, really important to be as box-fresh and up-to-the-second as she could possibly be? Otherwise, her role on the programme might be further questioned. And… she narrowed her eyes to think about this, weren’t there a few things she could sell lurking about in her cupboards? A few faded gems that could be unearthed and put up on her eBay site to unlock just a couple of hundred quid?
The jumper and the silk shirt were lovely. As she stared in the mirror at herself, it wasn’t the clothes she was having a problem with, or her figure. She knew exactly how to dress this buxom, apple-shaped body that she managed to keep just on the right side of a size 12.
No, the thing that suddenly attracted her attention was her hair. There was nothing unusual or out of place with the hair today. The golden and ash blonde highlights were totally up to date for the TV cameras. The hair was combed back and tightly fastened into a high ponytail the way she always wore it.
She’d worn her hair like this for years because it totally suited her. She had small features: a pointy chin, a little nose and lips that needed vibrant lipstick to make the most of them. The flippy, bobbing ponytail also suited her quick movements and high energy. Plus, it gave her skin a definite tug back. Usually, she loved the ponytail and never questioned it.
In fact, at bedtime when she let her hair down, she looked unusual. ‘The Annie only I get to see,’ was Ed’s frequent comment.
But now, all of a sudden, the hairstyle bugged her. Just a touch… just a moment of doubt.
She’d worn it like this for years… she was struggling to think how long. Could it honestly have been since Owen was born? Twelve years ago?! Was she going to wear her hair like this for ever?!
Maybe she should change to a chignon? A slightly more formal up-do? That would look the same at the front but be a little more grown-up and soigné at the back. Maybe.
Maybe a short, blonde crop?!
She terrified herself with the thought. But didn’t you have to be tiny and skinny as a rake to get away with really short hair?
A short, blonde… c-rrrrr-o-p.
Just the word crop scared her. She thought of Tina’s haircut and tried to imagine all of her own golden tresses thudding onto the white tiles of the hairdresser’s floor.
No! She gave an involuntary shudder. It was too brutal. Every single time in her teens and early twenties when she’d had her hair cut short, it had taken less than a week for her to regret it completely and a long, long year for the mistake to grow out.
Still, short hair was meant to be liberating and whacked years off your face. Hadn’t she seen it with so many clients? From frumpy bob to knockout crop. Maybe she’d talk about a little change with her hairdresser… just talk, just consider the options.
By the time she got to the till, she’d netted a sizeable haul. There was the batwing sweater, two cotton tops in fuchsia and cobalt blue, the pink bangle, a filmy lime green scarf which she couldn’t refuse, and the pink silk shirt so extravagantly ruffled at the front.
Ker-ching, ker-ching, ker-ching.
‘That’s £184.85,’ the assistant informed her.
Bringing her overdraft to £181.59. But so many things, all for the price of just one top or so at The Store. It was a bargain here, really.
She picked up her bags and headed for the coffee shop feeling very pleased at all the money she’d ‘saved’.
She even took out her phone and sent a text to Bob, who was always complaining about his wife’s spending habits.
Tell ur wife to shop at Mango. Cheap and fabulous. See you Monday. Annie x
After a few minutes the reply beeped in:
OK. U on 10.15 train?
Yup.
Annie texted back.
Bring good book. It takes 5 hrs.
Bob replied.
She responded with:
What!
And:
How will Svet n Miss cope?
She had looked on Owen’s map and told herself that Glasgow was not so far away really. But it certainly hadn’t occurred to her that she would be spending almost all of Monday on the train.
They were filming up there for two days, just like in Birmingham, so did that mean she’d be spending all of Thursday on the train too? And then Saturday was Ed’s birthday and she still hadn’t got him anything.
That was when the pang of guilt about the bags in her hands struck for the very first time. She should have been extending her overdraft for Ed…
Her phone buzzed with another text from Bob. It read:
Svet and Miss go on plane.
What?!
But that was so UNFAIR! And yet another sign that Annie was considered a rung beneath them.