Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 96

As I head up the hill to her house, the morning sun is in my eyes, and a cool wind blows through my hair. Across the green I can see Jim outside his store, unloading crates of apples from a delivery truck, and he lifts his hand in greeting. I wave back, my spirits lifted. This feels like a day for reconciliations. Fresh starts and clean slates.

I approach the all-too-familiar brown front door, ring the bell, and wait.

There’s no reply.

OK, I am really tired of people not being in when I want to have emotional reunions with them. I squint up at the windows, wondering whether she might be hiding. Maybe I should throw some stones up at the windowpanes.

Except what if I broke one? Then she’d really hate me.

I ring the bell a few more times, then give up and walk back down the path. I sit on a piece of wall and settle myself comfortably. This is fine. It’s a lovely day. I’ll just wait, and when she arrives back home I’ll spring up with a speech about how sorry I am.

The wall isn’t quite as comfortable as I first thought, and I shift a few times, trying to find a good position. I check the time, then watch an old lady and her little dog walk slowly along the pavement on the other side of the road.

Then I check the time again. Five minutes have gone by.

God, how on earth do stalkers do it? They must get bored out of their minds.

I get up to stretch my legs and walk up to Jess’s house again. I ring the bell, just to be on the safe side, then meander back to the wall again. As I do so, I see a policeman coming up the street toward me. What’s a policeman doing here, out on this little street at ten o’clock in the morning? I thought they were all tied to their desks by paperwork or zooming around inner cities in squad cars.

I feel a bit apprehensive as I see that he’s looking directly at me. But I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? I mean, it’s not like stalking is against the law.

Oh. Well, OK, maybe stalking is against the law. But I’ve only been doing it for five minutes. Surely that doesn’t count. And anyway, how does he know I’m stalking anyone? I might just be sitting here for pleasure.

“All right?” he says as he approaches.

“Fine, thanks!”

He looks at me expectantly.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

“Could you move along, miss? This isn’t a public seat.”

“Why should I?” I say boldly. “That’s what is wrong with this country! Anyone who doesn’t conform is persecuted! Why shouldn’t you be able to sit on a wall without being harassed?”

“That’s my wall,” he says, and gestures to the front door. “This is my house.”

“Oh, right.” I flush red and leap to my feet. “I was just… er… going. Thanks! Really nice wall!”

OK. Stalking over. I’ll have to come back later.

I trail down the hill to the village green, and find myself turning toward the shop. As I enter, Kelly is sitting behind the till with a copy of Elle, and Jim is arranging apples on the display rack.

“I went to see Jess,” I say morosely. “But she wasn’t there. I’ll have to wait till she comes back.”

“Shall I read out your horoscope?” says Kelly. “See if it says anything about sisters?”

“Now, young lady,” says Jim reprovingly. “You’re supposed to be revising for your exams. If you’re not working, you can go and wait at the tea shop.”

“No!” says Kelly hastily. “I’m revising!” She pulls a face at me, then puts Elle down and reaches for a book called Elementary Algebra.

God, algebra. I’d totally forgotten that existed. Maybe I’m quite glad I’m not thirteen anymore.

I need a sugar rush, so I head toward the biscuit section and grab some chocolate digestives and Orange Club biscuits. Then I drift over to the stationery shelf. You can never have too much stationery, so I pick up a packet of thumbtacks in the shape of sheep, which will always come in useful. And I might as well get the matching stapler and folders.

“All right there?” says Jim, eyeing my full arms.

“Yes, thanks!”

I take my goodies over to the till, where Kelly rings them up.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” she says.

“Oh, no, thanks.” I say politely. “I couldn’t intrude. I’d get in the way.”

“Get in the way of what?” she retorts. “Nobody’ll be in until four, when the bread comes down. And you can test me on my French vocab.”

“Oh, well.” I brighten. “If I’d be useful…”

Three hours later I’m still there. I’ve had three cups of tea, about half a packet of chocolate digestives, and an apple, and I’ve stocked up on a few more presents for people at home, like a set of toby jugs and some place mats, which everyone needs. Plus I’ve been helping Kelly with her work. Except now we’ve progressed from algebra and French vocab revision to Kelly’s outfit for the school disco. We’ve got every single magazine open, and I’ve made her up with each eye different, just to show her what the possibilities are. One side is really dramatic, all smoky shadow and a spare false eyelash I found in my makeup bag; the other is all silvery and sixties, with white space-age mascara.