Bride Without a Groom by Amy Lynch

Author:Amy Lynch [Lynch, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008150051
Google: 1qFwrgEACAAJ
Amazon: B00V2VXACG
Goodreads: 25358014
Publisher: Maze
Published: 2015-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

After a quick slap of make-up and a hearty breakfast of Sugar Puffs, I break out the expensive filter coffee (strength 5) that Barry keeps for perking up before breakfast meetings. Today is going to be a marathon, and I need a full tank.

As I stir my coffee, I daydream about our inevitable reunion. When Barry returns home, I’ll be dressed in something tight and black. We’ll be just like Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (back in the good old days, before Scientology and divorce ruined such a cute couple) smiling into each other’s faces. Barry will be jumping on Oprah’s couch, thrilled to be back in my glorious bosoms and will whisk me away to an exclusive ski resort where he’ll indulge my every whim. We shall be rubbing shoulders with the royals in matching ski goggles. Wills and Kate will sip hot chocolate in the hot tub with us and swap stories while their regal babies gurgle in the arms of the nanny.

I grab my keys and take the M50 exit for Dundrum. Now, I must explain. Dundrum is not simply a shopping centre, it’s my local Mecca. For me, a trip to the centre is on a par with a religious experience. Seriously, where else can you find BT2, House of Fraser and Harvey Nichols, otherwise known as ‘The Holy Trinity’, all located under the same roof? This, my dears, is my place of worship.

The problem is that the shopping centre is located dangerously close to my home. Don’t laugh! When you have a shopping addiction, this is pure temptation. Sometimes, the urge for me to spend is overwhelming. The tempting lovelies displayed in shop windows are just too much for me to resist, especially during a mid season sale. They call to me in the night.

Some people turn to drugs or alcohol for solace. For me, shopping is my vice. There are days when Harry is demanding files left right and centre, and I invent some excuse to go there after work to get my fix. Some evenings, I fawn Barry off with the excuse of working late, then hide the paper bags and dispose of the tags: classic and shameful spendaholic traits. Barry chastises me like a child for hitting my overdraft just a week after payday. On the rare occasion that he notices I’m wearing something new, I say ‘What, this old thing?’ and laugh it off, claiming that he’s inattentive to detail and clearly afflicted with colour blindness.

When I step through the glorious front doors, my shoulders drop and my blood pressure falls. My credit cards, maxed as they are, will be taking a rest today; I have Barry’s card at the ready. I’m itching for the first purchase, the first high. Why should I not have the latest Coach handbag that I saw Posh drape over her skeleton-thin elbow in Xposé last week? Or the Jimmy Choos that Carrie in Sex and the City raved about? Am I, like the ladies in

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