If I Were You by Julia Llewellyn Smith

Author:Julia Llewellyn Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141916606
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-03-04T05:00:00+00:00

29

It was nearly five when they finally left the lunch table with Olly and Vernon exchanging business cards. Sophie had to admit that since Olly’s arrival the lunch had been surprisingly jolly.

‘Shopping time running out,’ Olly said, slurring slightly. ‘So I think we’d better concentrate on you, not me.’

‘Beauty before age,’ Sophie giggled, then hiccupped. ‘Oh no, I’m the oldest, aren’t I?’ She’d never have said that if she hadn’t been drunk. But Olly ignored her, taking her arm.

‘Since we’re right next to Bond Street, shall we?’

‘Oh yes! We could go to Jigsaw.’ All around them chav couples were peering in windows: men in Gucci jeans and baseball caps, women clutching Louis Vuitton bags and pushing Bugaboos.

‘Jigsaw?’ Olly wrinkled his nose. ‘I think we can do better than that.’

‘What’s wrong with Jigsaw?’ But Sophie knew what was coming. Oh my God. Armani. Donna Karan. Calvin Klein.

‘Nothing, nothing. I just thought a place like this might be a bit less run-of-the-mill.’ He pushed open the door of a small boutique with a sign that read Beretskaya.

‘Oh.’ She tried to hide the disappointment. They’d entered a single room filled with boxy jackets in bright yellows and reds with huge mother-of-pearl buttons. It looked like the Mrs Thatcher museum. Maybe this was where Yvette got all her clothes? Sophie giggled as she thought about telling the girls on Monday.

The assistant, who looked as if she’d been put out to work by her children to supplement her pension, approached them. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked reedily.

‘Oh, we’re fine thanks,’ Sophie said, just as Olly said: ‘We’re looking for something to wear to a ball.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. And what did you have in mind for your wife?’

Sophie clenched her fists in embarrassment. Whenever someone used the ‘w’ word in front of Andy, he’d always make a huge deal of correcting them. But Olly just smiled.

‘I was thinking of something like this,’ he said, fingering a bright blue dress with a sailor collar and a drop-waisted skirt. Even by the shop’s standards, it was revolting. Sophie and the woman looked at each other.

‘I don’t think that’s quite the right outfit for a ball, sir.’

‘Well, maybe not for a ball,’ Olly admitted. ‘But as a pretty evening dress.’

‘I’m not sure it’s quite me,’ Sophie said hastily.

‘Would you try it on? Just for me?’

‘Oh, all right then.’ Exchanging glances with the assistant, she went into the changing cubicle. God, even Mrs Thatcher would have thought this too frumpy. ‘Olly, it really doesn’t work.’

‘Let’s see,’ he said. She stepped out. ‘Hmm. I think it’s really rather nice.’

‘Olly!’

‘Well, never mind. How about this one?’

This one was a red taffeta trouser suit. ‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’

‘Often things look completely different off the hanger,’ the assistant, seeing her first sale in eighteen years, urged. ‘Try it on.’

Six more changes of horrible outfits later, Sophie was beginning to flag. This had been supposed to be fun but Olly was trying to turn her into a member of the Women’s Institute.

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