Sophie Kinsella: The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic

'Really?' says Suze indifferently. 'Well, you were brilliant, anyway… Do you want some coffee?'

'Love some,' I say, and she disappears into the kitchen.

I pick up my letters and bills and begin slowly to leaf through them. Once upon a time this lot would have sent me into a blind panic. In fact, they would have gone straight into the bin, unread. But you know what? Today I don't feel a flicker of fear. Honestly, how could I have been so silly about my financial affairs? How could I have been so cowardly? This time I'm just going to face up to them properly. I'm going to sit down with my chequebook and my latest bank statements, and sort methodically through the whole mess.

Staring at the clutch of envelopes in my hand, I feel suddenly very grown-up and responsible. Far-sighted and sensible. I'm going to sort my life out and keep my finances in order from now on. I've completely and utterly changed my attitude towards money.

Plus…

OK, I wasn't actually going to tell you this. But Morning Coffee are paying me absolute loads. Loads. You won't believe it, but for every single phone-in I do, I'm going to get-

Oh, I'm all embarrassed now. Let's just say it's… it's quite a lot. Heehee!

I just can't stop smiling about it. I've been floating along, ever since they told me. So the point is, I'll easily be able to pay all these bills off now. My VISA bill, and my Octagon bill, and the money I owe Suze and everything! Finally, finally my life is going to be sorted.

'So, why did you just disappear like that?' asks Suze, coming back out of the kitchen and making me jump. 'What was wrong?'

'I don't really know,' I say, with a sigh, putting the letters back down on the hall table. 'I just had to get away and think. I was all confused.'

'Because of Tarquin?' says Suze at once, and I feel myself stiffen apprehensively.

'Partly,' I say after a pause, and swallow. 'Why? Has he…'

'I know you're not that keen on Tarkie,' says Suze wistfully, 'but I think he still really likes you. He came round a couple of nights ago, and left you this letter.'

She gestures to a cream envelope stuck in the mirror. With slightly trembling hands I take it. Oh God, what's he going to say? I hesitate, then rip it open and a ticket fails onto the floor.

'The opera!' says Suze, picking it up, 'Tonight!' She looks up. 'God, it's lucky you came back today, Bex.'

My dear Rebecca. I'm reading incredulously. Forgive my reticence in contacting you before.

But the more time passes, the more I realize how much I enjoyed our evening together and how much I would like to repeat it.

I enclose a ticket for Die Meistersinger at the Opera House. I shall be attending in any case and if you were able to join me, I would be delighted.

Yours very sincerely

Tarquin CleathStuart

I stare at the letter, completely confused. What does this mean? That Tarquin didn't see me leafing through his chequebook after all? That he did see – but has decided to forgive me? That he's a complete schizoid?

'Oh Bex, you must go!' says Suze, reading over my shoulder. 'You've got to go. He'll be devastated if you don't. I really think he likes you.'

'I can't go,' I say, thrusting the letter down. 'I've got a business meeting tonight.'

'Well that's OK!' says Suze. 'You can cancel it.'

'I… I can't. It's quite important.'

'Oh,' says Suze, crestfallen. 'But what about poor Tarkie? He'll be sitting there, waiting for you, all excited…'

'You go instead,' I suggest. 'You go.'

'Really?' Suze pulls a face and glances down at the ticket. 'I suppose I could. I quite like opera. But honestly…' She looks up. 'Who's your business meeting with, anyway?'

'It's… it's with Luke Brandon,' I say, trying to sound unconcerned. But it's no good, I can feel myself starting to blush.

'Luke Brandon?' says Suze, puzzled. 'But what-'

She stares at me, and her expression slowly changes.

'Oh no Bex! Don't tell me…'

'It's just a business meeting,' I say, avoiding her eye. 'That's all. Two businesspeople meeting up and talking about business. In a… in a business situation. That's all.'

And I hurry off to my room.

Business meeting. Clothes for a business meeting. OK, let's have a look.

I pull all my outfits out of the wardrobe and lay them on the bed. Blue suit, black suit, pink suit. Hopeless. Pin-striped suit? Hmmm. Maybe overdoing it. Cream suit… too weddingy. Green suit… isn't that bad luck or something?

'So what are you going to wear?' says Suze, looking in through my open bedroom door. 'Are you going to buy something new?' Her face lights up. 'Hey, shall we go shopping?'`

'Shopping?' I say distractedly. 'Ahm… maybe.'

Normally, of course, I'd jump at the chance of a shopping trip. Leap at it. But somehow today… Oh, I don't know. I almost feel too tense to go shopping. Too keyed up. I don't think I'd be able to give it my full attention.

'Bex, did you hear me?' says Suze in surprise. 'I said, "Shall we go shopping?"'

'Yes, I know.' I glance up at her, then reach for a black top and look at it critically. 'Actually, I think I'll take a rain-check.'

'You mean…' Suze pauses. 'You mean you don't want to go shopping?'

'Exactly.'

There's silence, and I look up, to see Suze staring at me.

'I don't understand,' she says, and she sounds quite upset. 'Why are you being all weird?'

'I'm not being weird!' I give a little shrug. 'I just don't feel like shopping.'

'Oh God, there's something wrong, isn't there?' wails Suze. 'I knew it. Maybe you're really ill.' She hurries into the room and reaches for my head. 'Have you got a temperature? Does anything hurt?'

'No!' I say, laughing. 'Of course not!'

'Have you had a bump on the head?' She wiggles her hand in front of my face. 'How many fingers?'

'Suze, I'm fine,' I say, thrusting her hand aside. 'Honestly. I'm just… not in a shopping mood.' I hold a grey suit up against myself. 'What do you think of this?'

'Honestly, Bex, I'm worried about you,' says Suze, shaking her head. 'I think you should get yourself checked out. You're so… different. It's frightening.'

'Yes well.' I reach for a white shirt and smile at her. 'Maybe I've changed.'

It takes me all afternoon to decide on an outfit. There's a lot of trying on, and mixing and matching, and suddenly remembering things at the back of my wardrobe (I must wear those purple jeans some time). But eventually I plump for simple and straightforward. My nicest black suit (Jigsaw sale, two years ago), a white T-shirt (M and S) and knee-high black suede boots (Dolce and Gabbana, but I told Mum they were from BHS. Which was a mistake, because then she wanted to get some for herself, and I had to pretend they'd all sold out). I put it all on, screw my hair up into a knot, and stare at myself in the mirror.

'Very nice,' says Suze admiringly from the door. 'Very sexy.'

'Sexy?' I feel lollop of dismay. 'I'm not going for sexy! I'm going for businesslike.'

'Can't you be both at once?' suggests Suze. 'Businesslike and sexy?'

'I… No,' I say after a pause, and look away. 'No, I don't want to.'

I don't want Luke Brandon to think I've dressed up for him, is what I really mean. I don't want to give him the slightest chance to think I've misconstrued what this meeting is about. Not like last time.

With no warning, a surge of flesh humiliation goes through my body as I remember that awful moment in Harvey Nichols. I shake my head hard, trying to clear it; trying to calm my beating heart. Why the hell did I agree to this bloody dinner, anyway?

'I just want to look as serious and businesslike as possible,' I say, and flown sternly at my reflection.

'I know, then,' says Suze. 'You need some accessories. Some businesswoman-type accessories.'