Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 97

“Don’t let your mother see you like that,” is all Jim keeps saying as he walks by.

“If only I had my hairpieces,” I say, studying Kelly’s face critically. “I could give you the most fantastic ponytail.”

“I look amazing!” Kelly’s goggling at herself in the mirror.

“You’ve got wonderful cheekbones,” I tell her, and dust shimmery powder onto them.

“This is so much fun!” Kelly looks at me, eyes shining. “God, I wish you lived here, Becky! We could do this every day!”

She looks so excited, I feel ridiculously touched.

“Well… you know,” I say. “Maybe I’ll visit again. If I patch things up with Jess.”

But even at the thought of Jess, my insides kind of crumble. The more time goes by, the more nervous I am at seeing her again.

“I wanted to do makeovers like this with Jess,” I add, a bit wistfully. “But she wasn’t interested.”

“Well, then, she’s dumb,” says Kelly.

“She’s not. She’s… she likes different things.”

“She’s a prickly character,” Jim puts in, walking by with some bottles of cherryade. “It’s hard to credit you two are sisters.” He dumps the bottles down and wipes his brow. “Maybe it’s in the upbringing. Jess had it pretty hard going.”

“Do you know her family, then?” I ask.

“Aye.” He nods. “Not well, but I know them. I’ve had dealings with Jess’s dad. He owns Bertram Foods. Lives over in Nailbury. Five miles away.”

Suddenly I’m burning all over with curiosity. Jess has barely told me a word about her family, despite my subtle probing.

“So… what are they like?” I say, as casually as I can. “Her family.”

“Like I say, she’s had a pretty hard time. Her mum died when she was fifteen. That’s a difficult age for a girl.”

“I never knew that!” Kelly’s eyes widen.

“And her dad…” Jim leans pensively on the counter. “He’s a good man. A fair man. Very successful. He built up Bertram Foods from nothing, through hard work. But he’s not what you’d call… warm. He was always as tough on Jess as he was on her brothers. Expected them to fend for themselves. I remember Jess when she started big school. She got into the high school over in Carlisle. Very academic.”

“I tried for that school,” says Kelly to me, pulling a face. “But I didn’t get in.”

“She’s a clever girl, that Jess,” says Jim admiringly. “But she had to catch three buses every morning to get there. I used to drive past on my way here — and I’ll remember the sight till I die. The early-morning mist, no one else about, and Jess standing at the bus stop with her big schoolbag. She wasn’t the big, strong lass she is now. She was a skinny little thing.”

I can’t quite find a reply. I’m thinking about how Mum and Dad used to take me to school by car every day. Even though it was only a mile away.

“They must be rich,” says Kelly, rooting around in my makeup bag. “If they own Bertram Foods. We get all our frozen pies from them,” she adds to me. “And ice cream. They’ve a huge catalog!”

“Oh, they’re well off,” says Jim. “But they’ve always been close with their money.” He rips open a cardboard box of Cup-a-Soups and starts stacking them on a shelf. “Bill Bertram used to boast about it. How all his kids worked for their pocket money.” He straightens a bundle of chicken and mushroom sachets on the shelf. “And if they couldn’t afford a school trip or whatever… they didn’t go. Simple as that.”

“School trips?” I can’t get my head round this. “But everyone knows parents pay for school trips!”

“Not the Bertrams. He wanted to teach them the value of money. There was a story going around one year that one of the Bertram boys was the only kid in school not to go to the pantomime. He didn’t have the money and his dad wouldn’t bail him out.” Jim resumes stacking the soups. “I don’t know if that was true. But it wouldn’t surprise me.” He gives Kelly a mock-severe look. “You don’t know you’re born, young lady. You’ve got the easy life!”

“I do chores!” retorts Kelly at once. “Look! I’m helping out here, aren’t I?”

She reaches for some chewing gum from the sweets counter and unwraps it, then turns to me. “Now I’ll do you, Becky!” She riffles in my makeup bag. “Have you got any bronzer?”