Sophie Kinsella - Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

“Never!”

“I see.” I raise my eyebrows. “Judy, would it be fair to say Bill is generally quite an unadventurous person? That he doesn’t like taking risks?”

“Well… yes,” says Judy. “Now that you say it, I suppose he is.”

“Ah!” says Rory suddenly, on the other side of the sofa. Rory is the other presenter of Morning Coffee. He’s very chiseled-looking and is great at flirting with film stars, but he’s not exactly the Brain of Britain. “I think I see where you’re going here, Becky.”

“Yes, thanks Rory,” says Emma, rolling her eyes at me. “I think we all do. So Becky, if Bill doesn’t like risk — are you saying he’s right to avoid the stock market?”

“No,” I reply. “Actually, I’m not saying that at all. Because maybe what Bill isn’t quite seeing is that there’s more than one kind of risk. If you invest in the stock market, yes, you risk losing some money in the short term. But if you simply tuck it away in the bank for years and years, an even greater risk is that this inheritance will be eroded over time by inflation.”

“Aha,” puts in Rory wisely. “Inflation.”

“In twenty years’ time, it could well be worth very little — compared to what it would probably have achieved on the market. So if Bill is only in his thirties and wants to make a long-term investment — although it seems risky, it’s in many ways safer to choose a balanced stock market portfolio.”

“I see!” says Emma, and gives me an admiring look. “I would never have looked at it like that.”

“Successful investment is often simply a question of thinking laterally,” I say, smiling modestly.

I love it when I get the answer right and everyone looks impressed.

“Does that help you, Judy?” says Emma.

“Yes,” says Judy. “Yes, it does! I’ve videotaped this call, so I’ll show it to Bill tonight.”

“Oh right!” I say. “Well, check what kind of tie he’s wearing first.”

Everyone laughs, and I join in after a pause — though I wasn’t actually joking.

“Time for one more quick call,” says Emma. “And we have Enid from Northampton, who wants to know if she’s got enough money to retire on. Enid, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” comes Enid’s voice down the line. “My husband Tony’s recently retired, and I was on holiday last week — just at home with him, cooking and so forth. And he… we got to thinking… how about I retire early, too? But I wasn’t sure I had enough saved up, so I thought I’d call in.”

“What kind of financial provision have you made for retirement, Enid?” I ask.

“I’ve a pension which I’ve contributed to all my life,” says Enid hesitantly, “and I’ve a couple of savings plans… and I’ve a recent inheritance which should see off the mortgage…”

“Well!” says Emma brightly. “Even I can see that you’re pretty well set up, Enid. I’d say, happy retirement!”

“Right,” says Enid. “I see. So — there’s no reason for me not to retire. It’s just as Tony said.” There’s silence apart from her breathing unsteadily down the line, and Emma gives me a quick glance. I know the producer, Barry, must be yelling into her earpiece to fill the space.

“So good luck, Enid!” she says brightly. “Becky, on the subject of retirement planning—”

“Just… hold on a moment,” I say, frowning slightly. “Enid, there’s no obvious financial reason for you not to retire. But… what about the most important reason of all? Do you actually want to retire?”

“Well.” Enid’s voice falters slightly. “I’m in my fifties now. I mean, you have to move on, don’t you? And as Tony said, it’ll give us a chance to spend more time together.”

“Do you enjoy your job?”

There’s another silence.

“I do. Yes. It’s a good crowd, at work. I’m older than most of them, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter when we’re having a laugh…”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got time for,” cuts in Emma, who has been listening intently to her earpiece. She smiles at the camera. “Good luck in your retirement, Enid…”

“Wait!” I say quickly. “Enid, please stay on the line if you’d like to talk about this a bit more. OK?”

“Yes,” says Enid after a pause. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“We’re going to go to weather now,” says Rory, who always perks up as the finance slot comes to an end. “But a final word, Becky?”

“Same as always,” I say, smiling at the camera. “Look after your money…”

“… and your money will look after you!” chime in Rory and Emma. After a frozen pause, everyone relaxes and Zelda, the assistant producer, strides onto the set.

“Well done!” she says. “Great stuff. Now, Becky, we’ve still got Enid on line four. But we can get rid of her if you like…”

“No!” I say. “I really want to talk to her. You know, I reckon she doesn’t want to retire at all!”

“Whatever,” says Zelda, ticking something on her clipboard. “Oh, and Luke’s waiting for you at reception.”

“Already?” I look at my watch. “Oh God… OK — can you tell him I won’t be long?”

I honestly don’t intend to spend that long on the phone. But once I get talking to Enid, it all comes out — about how she’s dreading retirement, and how her husband just wants her at home to cook for him. How she really loves her job and she was thinking about taking a computer course but her husband says it’s a waste of money… By the end I’m completely outraged. I’ve said exactly what I think, several times over, and am in the middle of asking Enid if she considers herself a feminist, when Zelda taps me on the shoulder and suddenly I remember where I am.

It takes me about another five minutes to apologize to Enid and say I’ve got to go, then for her to apologize to me — and for us both to say good-bye and thank you and don’t mention it, about twenty times. Then, as quickly as possible, I head to my dressing room and change out of my Morning Coffee outfit into my driving outfit.

I’m quite pleased with my appearance as I look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing: a Pucci-esque multicolored top, frayed denim cutoffs, my new sandals, Gucci shades (Harvey Nichols sale — half price!), and my treasured pale blue Denny and George scarf.

Luke’s got a real thing about my Denny and George scarf. When people ask us how we met, he always says, “Our eyes met across a Denny and George scarf,” which is actually kind of true. He lent me some of the money I needed to buy it, and he still maintains I never paid him back so it’s partly his. (Which is so not true. I paid him back straight away.)

Anyway, I tend to wear it quite a lot when we go out together. Also when we stay in together. In fact, I’ll tell you a small secret — sometimes we even…

Actually, no. You don’t need to know that. Forget I mentioned it.

As I eventually hurry into reception I glance at my watch — and oh God, I’m forty minutes late. And there’s Luke sitting on a squashy chair, wearing the gorgeous polo shirt I bought him in the Ralph Lauren sale. He’s talking intently on his mobile phone and sipping a cup of coffee and frowning at something in the paper. But then he looks up and his dark eyes meet mine, and his whole face breaks into a smile. A true, affectionate smile, which makes him seem like a different person.

When I first knew Luke, I only ever saw him businesslike and polite, or scarily angry, or — very occasionally — amused. Even after we started seeing each other, it was a long time before he really let his guard down. In fact, the first time he really, really laughed, I was so surprised, I snorted lemonade through my nose.