Jane Green - Bookends

‘Okay, okay,’ he laughs. ‘Trousers it is, but Cath, sweets, you have to trust my judgement on this one. It’s the opening party for the shop and you, my darling, will go to the ball.’

And I have to say that although Emporio Armani is not a shop I would ever normally enter, the clothes are actually pretty nice if you’re into that kind of thing, and Si has picked out a selection of trouser suits, and this one, the black velvet one with the long fitted jacket and the beautifully cut trousers, looks pretty damn impressive, even if I say so myself.

Si whistles as I step out of the changing room.

‘Jesus, Cath.’ He’s practically rubbing his hands with glee. ‘You look gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a size 10.’

The very thin, very chic, very French sales assistant was obviously just about to agree, but stops suddenly, not quite knowing what to say. ‘Yes,’ she says uncertainly, ‘it is very flattering.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ I say, turning to Si, as the sales assistant pretends to spot something very important on the other side of the shop, although I’m grinning at my reflection as I say it.

‘It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?’ I continue, twirling while I marvel at how cleverly the jacket manages to conceal my rather Rubenesque thighs.

‘No question about it. It was positively made for you. Now, if only you’d let me do something with your hair.’

‘My darling Si, even you know that’s pushing it too far.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he grumbles. ‘But you can’t blame a guy for trying.’

We get to the cash desk and the assistant rings it up, then turns to me and says nonchalantly, ‘That’s four hundred and fifty-five pounds.’

I turn white as Si grabs my arm to steady me.

‘How much?’ It comes out in a whisper but, before the assistant has a chance to repeat herself, Si drags me to one side. ‘Cath,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m sorry, but for a suit that divine, that’s how much you have to pay.’

‘No way, Si.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m not paying over four hundred quid for a bit of black velvet when I can get exactly the same in Top Shop for a hundred and fifty. Forget it.’

‘Fine,’ Si says, much to my surprise. ‘Let’s go to Top Shop and see how we do.’

‘Fine,’ I say, as Si goes back to the sales assistant, presumably to apologize as I head out the door and wait outside.

We do Top Shop. We do Miss Selfridge, now seemingly renamed the funkier Spirit . We do Hennes. We do French Connection. We push through the Saturday crowds to do Oasis.

Three hours later we’re back in shop number one, grinning rather sheepishly at the same sales assistant, who smiles without saying a word, disappears behind the desk for a second, then draws out the velvet suit.

‘As my grandmother always used to say, if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.’

‘The stuff we’ve been trying on wasn’t bad,’ I say, doing my best to stick up for the chain stores.

‘I’m not saying it was,’ Si says smoothly, watching me physically wince as I pull out my Visa card, ‘I was just saying that once you’d tried this on, you’d never find anything as nice.’

‘God, it kills me to tell you you’re right,’ I say, shaking my head.

‘But?’

‘But you’re right. Okay?’

‘ How much?’ Lucy’s having much the same reaction on the end of Si’s mobile phone, and even I can hear her shriek.

‘Four. Hundred. And. Fifty. Five. Pounds.’ Si says very slowly. ‘Only.’

‘Let me talk to her!’ and Si passes the phone to me. ‘I don’t believe it,’ Lucy giggles, ‘I didn’t even know you could spend that money on a suit! Cath, darling, is it wonderful?’

‘Well, it is rather special.’

‘You’re going to look like a princess,’ she says firmly. ‘Everybody deserves to splash out on themselves from time to time.’

‘What are you wearing Lucy?’ I kick Si as he rolls his eyes.

‘God knows,’ Lucy laughs. ‘I’m sure there’s something perfect in my wardrobe, I just have to find the time to actually look.’

‘Are you as nervous as I am or are you ready for the grand opening?’

‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I just know that it’s been a complete whirlwind and I haven’t had time to stop and think about whether we’re ready or not. Anyway. Onwards and upwards. Make sure you and Si come to the house first because there’s no way Josh and I can manage all this stuff by ourselves.

‘We thought, as a treat, we’ll do champagne and preliminary tastings just for us, but remember we’ve got to be at the shop about an hour before it starts. I’ll see you later, okay?’

We say goodbye and I relay what she’s said to Si, but midway into the conversation he pulls up sharply outside an Italian menswear shop.

‘Why are we stopping here?’

‘And who says Cinderella is the only one allowed to buy a new outfit for the ball?’

‘Hi, I’m Laura. I’m the babysitter.’ Si stands back and lets Laura in, as he mouths to me, ‘Babysitter?’ in a question, then rapidly smiles as she turns round and catches him.

‘Lucy’s in the kitchen,’ he says, showing her through before turning to me and saying, ‘What the hell have they got a babysitter for? What about Ingrid?’

I shrug. ‘Maybe it’s her night off.’ Si wanders into the living room to find Josh adjusting his tie in the mirror above the fireplace.

‘Where’s Ingrid tonight, then?’ he says, sinking into the sofa as he simultaneously reaches for a tiny home-made spring roll.

Distractedly Josh says, ‘Coming to the party. Do you want some more champagne?’ I shake my head and go to help Lucy in the kitchen.

‘Cath, be an angel and put some clingfilm on this, would you?’ She hands me a bowl of baby ricotta and spinach tarts. ‘And then can you take those boxes into the car for me? Max!’ she shrieks. ‘Come and say hello to Laura.’

The next thing I hear is a clattering downstairs as Max runs in and bashes my knees with a wooden fork, before trundling over to Laura and whacking her on the thigh.

‘Hello, Max,’ she says, beaming through her gritted teeth. ‘Do you remember me? I came to babysit and we watched The Lion King together.’

Max stares at her uncomprehendingly, then bashes her again and runs out of the room, while I smile widely, grateful that I’m not the only one.

Lucy sighs. ‘He’s just impossible at the moment. I’m so sorry.’

Laura smiles. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go after him, shall I?’ Lucy nods gratefully, and Laura follows Max upstairs. We do our best to ignore the ensuing shrieks as Max realizes we’re all leaving him.

I enlist Si’s help and the four of us start to load up both cars with food and drink, and soon the cars are sinking under the weight. We go back inside and collapse around the kitchen table to toast ourselves with champagne.

‘So where’s the lovely Ingrid tonight?’ Si ventures.

‘Coming to the party, of course,’ Lucy says. ‘I couldn’t not invite her, not when she’s seen all the preparations for the bookshop these last few months.’

‘That’s very nice of you,’ I say, as Ingrid herself waltzes into the kitchen, whereupon my mouth drops open a few notches in amazement. Ingrid, while being one of those incredibly striking naturally blonde Scandinavian stereotypes, is usually to be found in a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt and trainers. But tonight even Lucy stops in amazement as we survey Ingrid’s get-up of tiny black mini skirt, plunging jacket and super-high platform strappy sandals that, quite frankly, wouldn’t look out of place in a brothel specializing in S & M.

Ingrid, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed as she totters across the kitchen to help herself to a glass of water. Lucy gulps and looks at me.