Buy new clothes
“No way,” Polly said decisively.
“But I like it!” Annie held it protectively. It was her favorite hoodie; she’d had it since she was seventeen.
“There are literally teenagers who are younger than that jumper. Get yourself something new, for God’s sake! There’s a whole world of clothes out there. And don’t tell me you can’t afford it, because you can’t have bought anything new since 2003.”
Annie scowled. “I hate shopping. Those changing rooms are always so tiny, and the light is so bad, and nothing ever fits me. Anyway, I’m unemployed now. I have to save my pennies.” Polly might only have a few months left, but Annie had to somehow manage for the rest of her life, and take care of her mum, too. When she thought about it, her stomach felt like it was back on that roller coaster.
Polly was sitting on Annie’s bed, her head covered in a floppy straw hat. She sighed. “Annie, I wish I could make you understand. I’m not saying blow all your cash. Just that, maybe, some of your clothes are past their best, and maybe, replacing them might give you a little boost?” She looked pointedly at Annie’s saggy black top, the fabric all bobbled around the neck. “Anyway, won’t you need some things for interviews?”
Interviews. Of course. Annie began to nod, reluctantly. “I suppose.”
“And look, if you feel guilty spending money on yourself, get someone else a present, too. That’s what I always do. Used to drive Tom nuts. He had more pairs of socks than a millipede in winter. Anyway,” she said, nodding to the corner of the room. “I’m afraid that jumper’s a goner.”
Annie leaped to her feet, pulling her hoodie away from Buster, who had somehow sneaked into her room and chewed the pocket off, all in the past minute. “Bad boy! Don’t eat my clothes!”
“Oh, he’s not a bad boy, he’s a good boy, a good boy.” Polly took him, crooning and kissing. “Don’t listen to nasty old Annie, you’re not a bad boy.” Buster coughed, and spat out a scrap of fabric.
“Easy for you to say, Polly, he hasn’t eaten all of your shoes, has he?”
“All the more reason to buy new ones.” Polly smiled triumphantly.
“Well, okay. But I meant what I said about going to the shops.”
Polly set Buster down on the bed—Annie tried not to wince at the thought of dog hairs on her nice new sheets—and held out a thin hand. “Give me your laptop.”
“Why?”
“Just give it.”
Annie complied, passing over the dust-covered hulk. Polly winced. “We’ll talk about accessories after. But for now, let me introduce you to the delights of next-day delivery.”