Changeling by Steve Feasey

Author:Steve Feasey
Language: es
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780330508681
Publisher: Children's Books
Published: 2010-05-19T22:00:00+00:00

14

‘Where next?’ Alexa asked as they turned away from the till. ‘Harvey Nics is not far from here. We could hop in a cab and be there in, like, no time.’

Trey watched her fidgeting around on the spot with excitement like some demented dervish. They had been shopping for three hours now and she showed no signs of losing interest in the prospect of trawling through yet more rows of tagged and labelled clothing stretched out endlessly on silvered rails.

‘I’m not really sure that I can take any more, Alexa.’

‘Nonsense,’ she replied. ‘You’ll love Harvey Nics, and it really is not that far.’

Nonsense, Trey was learning, was Alexa’s favourite response to any comment that she didn’t agree with. He had already heard it countless times that morning when he had protested about various items of clothing that she thought he should buy.

‘I know what it is,’ she said. ‘You’re still not sure about those linen trousers that I had you buy in Selfridges, are you?’

The escalator delivered them back to the ground floor of whichever department store this was – Trey had lost track, and they were all blurring into one huge mishmash of chrome rails, overeager shop assistants and curtained changing cubicles. The cloying, overlapping smells wafting over from the perfume and cosmetics counters suddenly made Trey desperate to find the doors and the reward of fresh air – if London’s air could ever truly be described as fresh.

‘To be honest, Alexa, I’m really not very sure about most of the stuff that you’ve had me buy.’

‘But that shop assistant agreed with me that they looked great on you.’ She tried one of her pouts on him, but Trey continued.

‘Yeah, I heard that. I heard that right before she told me that they only cost one hundred and forty pounds. And I heard you tell her that we’d take them along with those bloody awful shoes.’ They were outside now, standing on the corner of Oxford Circus. He tried to get her attention as she scanned the traffic for a black cab. ‘Alexa, I have never worn, and almost certainly never will wear, linen trousers. In fact, this will come as a bit of a blow to you, but I have managed to live almost my entire life with probably no more than three pairs of jeans, about twenty assorted T-shirts, sweats and shirts, and few pairs of trainers at any one time.’

The cab she tried to hail sailed right past, turning its large bulbous back on her like some black-bustle-wearing Victorian widow, too grand to acknowledge the hoi polloi daring to try to catch its attention.

‘So what are you saying?’ She huffed at the lack of cabs and started to walk slowly up the street, stopping every few strides at the merest flash of black appearing on the road up ahead.

He looked at her pouting face, and all the irritation that had been building up inside him boiled up to the surface. ‘Listen,’ he hissed. ‘My life has been turned upside down because of you and your family.

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