Sophie Kinsella - Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

Still, I find myself shifting my chair slightly farther away from my LK Bennett bag, as though it hasn’t got anything to do with me.

“Hello, Mr. Smeath!” I say brightly as he approaches. “How are you?”

“Very well,” says Derek Smeath, smiling. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. Would you… would you like a coffee?” I add politely, gesturing to the empty chair opposite me. And I’m not really expecting him to say yes — but to my astonishment he sits down and picks up a menu.

How civilized is this? I’m having coffee with my bank manager at a pavement cafe! You know, maybe I’ll find a way to work this into my Morning Coffee slot. “I myself prefer the informal approach to personal finance,” I’ll say, smiling warmly into the camera. “My own bank manager and I often share a friendly cappuccino as we discuss my current financial strategies…”

“As it happens, Rebecca, I’ve just written a letter to you,” says Derek Smeath, as a waitress puts an espresso down in front of him. Suddenly his voice is more serious, and I feel a small lurch of alarm. Oh God, what have I done now? “You and all my customers,” he adds. “To tell you that I’m leaving.”

“What?” I put my coffee cup down with a little crash. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“I’m leaving Endwich Bank. I’ve decided to take early retirement.”

“But…”

I stare at him, appalled. Derek Smeath can’t leave Endwich Bank. He can’t just leave me in the lurch, just as everything was going so well. I mean, I know we haven’t always exactly seen eye to eye — but recently we’ve developed a really good rapport. He understands me. He understands my overdraft. What am I going to do without him?

“Aren’t you too young to retire?” I say, aware of the dismay in my voice. “Won’t you get bored?”

He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of espresso. “I’m not planning to give up work altogether. But I think there’s a little more to life than looking after people’s bank accounts, don’t you? Fascinating though some of them have been.”

“Well… yes. Yes, of course. And I’m glad for you, honestly.” I shrug, a little embarrassed. “But I’ll… miss you.”

“Believe it or not,” he says, smiling slightly, “I think I’ll miss you too, Rebecca. Yours has certainly been one of the most… interesting accounts I’ve dealt with.”

He gives me a penetrating look and I feel myself flush slightly. Why does he have to remind me of the past? The point is, that’s all over. I’m a different person now. Surely one should be allowed to turn over a new leaf and start again in life.

“Your new career in television seems to be going well,” he says, taking a sip of espresso.

“I know! It’s so great, isn’t it? And it pays really well,” I add, a little pointedly.

“Your income has certainly gone up in recent months.” He puts down his coffee cup and my heart sinks slightly. “However…”

I knew it. Why does there always have to be a however?

“However,” repeats Derek Smeath. “Your outgoings have also risen. Substantially. In fact, your overdraft is now higher than it was at the height of your… shall we say, your excesses.”

Excesses? That is so mean.

“You really must make more effort to keep within your overdraft limit,” he’s saying now. “Or, even better, pay it off.”

“I know,” I say vaguely. “I’m planning to.”

I’ve just spotted a girl on the other side of the road, with an LK Bennett bag. She’s holding a great big bag — with two shoe boxes in it.

If she’s allowed to buy two pairs of shoes, then why aren’t I? What’s the rule that says you can only buy one pair of shoes at a time? I mean, it’s so arbitrary.

“What about your other finances?” Derek Smeath is asking. “Do you have any store card bills, for example?”

“No,” I say with a tinge of smugness. “I paid them all off months ago.”

“And you haven’t spent anything since?”

“Only bits and pieces. Hardly anything.”

And what’s ninety quid, really? In the greater scheme of things?

“The reason I’m asking these questions,” says Derek Smeath, “is that I feel I should warn you. The bank is restructuring somewhat, and my successor, John Gavin, may not have quite the same relaxed approach which I have taken toward your account. I’m not sure you’re aware quite how lenient I have been with you.”

“Really?” I say, not really listening.

I mean, suppose I took up smoking. I’d easily spend ninety quid on cigarettes without even thinking about it, wouldn’t I?

In fact, think of all the money I’ve saved by not smoking. Easily enough to afford one little pair of shoes.

“He’s a very capable man,” Derek Smeath is saying. “But also very… rigorous. Not particularly known for his flexibility.”

“Right,” I say, nodding absently.

“I would certainly recommend that you address your overdraft without delay.” He takes a sip of coffee. “And tell me, have you done anything about taking out a pension?”

“Erm… I went to visit that independent adviser you recommended.”

“And did you fill in any of the forms?”

Unwillingly, I drag my attention back to him.

“Well, I’m just considering my options,” I say, and put on my wise, financial-expert look. “There’s nothing worse than rushing into the wrong investment, you know. Particularly when it comes to something as important as a pension.”

“Very true,” says Derek Smeath. “But don’t spend too long considering, will you? Your money won’t save itself.”

“I know!” I say and take a sip of cappuccino.

Now I feel a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should put £90 into a pension fund instead of buying another pair of shoes.

But on the other hand — what good is a pension fund of £90? I mean, that’s not exactly going to keep me in my old age, is it? Ninety measly quid. And by the time I’m old, the world will probably have blown up, or something.

Whereas a pair of shoes is tangible, it’s there in your hand…

Oh, sod it. I’m going to get them.

“Mr. Smeath, I have to go,” I say abruptly, putting down my cup. “There’s something I have to… do.”

I have to get back there as quickly as possible. I pick up my carrier bag and drop a fiver on the table. “Lovely to see you. And good luck in your retirement.”

“Best of luck to you too, Rebecca,” says Derek Smeath, smiling kindly at me. “But do remember what I’ve said. John Gavin won’t indulge you in the way that I have. So please be careful with your spending.”

“I will!” I say brightly.

And without quite running, I’m off down the street, as quick as I can, back to LK Bennett.

Perhaps strictly speaking I didn’t exactly need to buy a pair of clementine shoes. But what occurred to me while I was trying them on was, I haven’t actually broken my new rule. Because the point is, I will need them.

After all, I will need new shoes at some point, won’t I? Everyone needs shoes. And surely it’s far more prudent to stock up now in a style I really like, than to wait until my last pair wears out and then find nothing nice in the shops. It’s only sensible. It’s like… hedging my future position in the shoe market.

As I come out of LK Bennett, gleefully grasping my two shiny new bags, there’s a warm, happy glow all around me, and I’m not in the mood to go home. So I decide to pop across the street to Gifts and Goodies. This is one of the shops that carries Suze’s frames, and I have a little habit of going in whenever I pass, just to see if anyone’s buying one.

I push the door open with a little ping, and smile at the assistant, who looks up. This is such a lovely shop. It’s all warm and scented, and full of gorgeous things like chrome wine racks and etched glass coasters. I sidle past a shelf of pale mauve leather notebooks, and look up — and there they are! Three purple tweed photo frames, made by Suze! I still get a thrill, every time I see them.