SAM
‘This way.’ Claudia marched through the racks of clothes like a sergeant major. I trailed behind her. A hundred yards in and I was already feeling like I might drown in garments. Was that possible? I imagined being smothered by the row of purple dresses we were passing at speed, or there, those black trousers. There must be at least a hundred pairs all lined up. It wouldn’t take much to kill me. Just the size eights and tens would be enough, wrapped around my face. The size twelves wouldn’t even be needed. They and the fourteens would just be waiting for their next victim, appearing so innocent.
‘Come on, you’re not after trousers. Keep focussed.’ Claudia took my arm and dragged me deeper into the shop.
I could do charity shops fine. They were small, with such limited choice it was like finding treasure when you found something – you could really feel like you’d achieved something. Not so on the high street and definitely not in H&M or Topshop. No, then I just started feeling panicky. Having Claudia at my side was the only way I could brave them.
‘This, this and . . .’ Claudia flicked through the hangers at speed and pulled out a bright blue dress, ‘This.’ She looked at me. ‘What’s wrong with you? Shopping is meant to be fun, you know.’
‘Whatever.’
Claudia shook her head and strode off to the changing rooms and I almost had to run to keep up. The last time I’d tried shopping here, I’d got as far as choosing something to try on then had become so disorientated trying to find somewhere to change I’d given up and left. But I couldn’t do that today. No way. I had to find something to wear. There was a gaping hole in my wardrobe that had to be filled by something fabulous. I was sure my confidence would be boosted just knowing it was there. If I made it out from this sodding shop alive, of course. We reached the changing rooms. There were enough cubicles for half of Petersfield to change in there and still have room for a picnic. I dithered for a second. There was too much choice again: which one was I meant to use?
‘Come out when you’ve got something on!’ Claudia ordered and hustled me into the first one on the left.
‘What’s wrong with the mirror in here?’ I whined. Claudia didn’t reply.
I sighed and started peeling off layers. Jacket, hoodie, top. I tried to avoid the mirror, as I seemed to consist almost entirely of dark bags and dry skin.
‘Try the blue one on first,’ Claudia said behind the door. ‘And take your boots off.’
I looked down. ‘How do you know I haven’t taken them off already?’
‘I can’t smell your feet.’
‘Right. Thanks for that.’
I pulled my boots off obediently and took the blue dress down and peeked at the price. Shit. I’d never spent that much on a dress in my life. But I held it up in front of myself anyway, concentrating on the dress itself and avoiding looking at my face. It was a shame about the price – it was such a nice colour. My phone beeped then. I was expecting Vic to be in touch about a job so I quickly scooped it out of my pocket and checked it. My heart skipped a beat – it just couldn’t help itself.
Can’t wait to see you. Cx
I tapped out my reply and pressed send recklessly. Another reason why I don’t go shopping very often: I am likely to make rash, spur-of-the-moment decisions.
You’re not going to know what hit you.
He replied instantly.
Oh really?
‘Sam? What are you doing in there? You’re not on your phone, are you? We’re here to do a job, stay focussed!’ Claudia tapped her fingernails on the door.
Just one more.
Yes, really. Gotta go. Got a job to do.
I snapped my phone shut and shoved it back in my bag. With shaking hands I pulled the dress over my head and opened the door.
‘Oh my!’ Claudia beamed. ‘Don’t you look amazing!’
‘I do?’ I smiled, feeling all stupid and shy for a moment.
‘Go on, have a look yourself.’ Claudia pushed me towards a large mirror at the end of the room. The dress was made of some sort of floaty fabric – I never know the correct names. It crossed over at the breasts, drawing in tight under them, and then fell to just past my knees. It was beautiful. I forced myself to look at my face, steeling myself for disappointment. There, in the mirror, a proper woman looked back at me.
‘Oh my God.’
‘Here.’ Claudia lifted my hair off my shoulders and held it up on top of my head, ‘What do you think?’
I tried responding but I could only make a strangled squeaking sound. Maybe this hare-brained scheme could actually work. Maybe I would look good enough to eat, good enough to leave your girlfriend for!
It was only when we were on our way to the checkout that I remembered the price. My heart sank. I couldn’t bear the idea of going back through the racks for cheaper dresses. Maybe, oh maybe, one of my cards would work? Perhaps some central computer at the bank would be down and they wouldn’t realise I was already over the limit on my overdraft? The queue snaked twenty people deep to the row of cashiers and I had plenty of time to worry as we edged closer to the front. I tried engaging Claudia about work. Any more stories about John Tightpants? But Claudia wasn’t playing ball. She just gave me some one-line answers and then went all quiet. I was left to worry about the dress in silence. I handed over my first card with wet palms.
‘Sorry. Declined,’ said the girl behind the counter. She stared at me blankly, waiting for my next move. As I thumbed through my cards I could feel the eyes of the queue on my back. I handed over another one. Maybe the bank hadn’t cancelled this one after all, maybe, by some miracle . . .
‘This one too,’ she said, just the wrong side of withering.
‘Bother,’ I said quietly. I shuffled my cards some more. Library, out-of-date gym card, supermarket loyalty cards, unread business cards, all useless. Not a healthy bank balance between them.
‘I’ll get it.’ Claudia handed her card to the cashier just as I started pulling away from the counter, defeated.
‘Are you sure? I’ll pay you back.’ I felt like a heel.
‘You have to have that dress.’ Claudia smiled at me.
‘Thanks. And sorry, again.’
My cheeks burnt as the patronising cow behind the counter passed Claudia the bag. Another thing Claudia had paid for, another bloody thing. Out on the street, I started to thank her again but Claudia cut across me.
‘Actually, I’ve got to get moving, sweetie, but I’m so pleased you found a dress you love. It looks really good on you. I’ll call you soon, OK?’ And with another kiss she was gone, disappearing into Oxford Street, six deep with bustling lunchtime shoppers.