But there’s something about that cottage – with its white picketfencing and pots of greenery tumbling over the little balcony off the ‘mastersuite’ – that stays in my head throughout the day. I feel a little thrill ofexcitement every time I think of it, especially when I remind myself that I canactually afford to live in it now.
If I wanted to...
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Later, after a full English breakfast hang-over cure,I’m feeling much better, although weirdly, I keep thinking about Doug.
Was I too rash, dismissing him as a potential fortune-hunter?Our meeting outside the pub could have been purely accidental and completelyinnocent on his part. He certainly seemed like a nice guy, and I’m starting to wishI’d given him the benefit of the doubt.
But it’s too late now.
Because I’ve deleted his number.
Feeling oddly glum, I decide a little shopping therapy mightcheer me up. I’d also like to spend time admiring my bank balance. I smile tomyself, imagining turning up at the cash point with a foldable stool and aflask and camping out there for a while, in order to fully appreciate theridiculously long number on the screen.
As it turns out, when I arrive at the local cash point andpush in my card, there’s a small queue behind me so I manage just a quick lookof glee and a swift photo or two before responding to the irritated cough fromthe woman behind me and taking my leave.
Exciting, though.
And then I think, why go shopping in Guildford when I’ve gotthe rest of the day to myself and the gorgeous shops and bright lights ofLondon are just an hour or so away on the train?
I don’t often go into central London – I always imagine everythingwill be so expensive – but I don’t need to worry about money now. So maybe,just this once, I could spoil myself a bit. I’ve been feeling so bruised andbattered by everything that’s happened lately. A wander around Harrods and Selfridgesand Fortnum & Mason would definitely put a smile on my face, and I wouldn’thave to buy anything, would I? I could be sensible and do a spot of windowshopping.
Justlookingwould be so therapeutic and exactly whatI need to distract me from thoughts of April and Ryan.
And my missed opportunity to get to know Doug better...
*****
It feels exciting catching the train to London, and as Igaze out of the window watching the scenery rushing by, it occurs to me thatnormally at this time, I’d be coping with a rush of lunchtime customers at the café,perspiring at the coffee machine in the sweltering July temperatures and makingmy hundredth cappuccino of the day!
Today, though, I don’t have to think about anything except doingwhat I fancy. Ah, the life of a lady of leisure! It’s a completely new feelingbut I’m enjoying it so far, although I do feel a little bit guilty for havingcalled in sick. Iwasill earlier but I seem to have made a swiftrecovery thanks to my greasy breakfast. I’m not going to let worries about thecafé spoil my day, though.
Settling myself more comfortably in my seat, I stroke thebuttery soft leather of my pale pink handbag with a happy sigh. I’m wearing thesummer outfit I feel best in – a silky pink and orange patterned dress thatswishes around my knees (and cost far more than I could actually afford when Ibought it a few summers ago) and my pale pink peep-toe wedges. I splashed outon the outfit to wear at a wedding and I haven’t had much wear out of it since.But today felt like the right time to give it an airing.
I’m feeling in the mood to celebrate.
It’s a day of bright sunshine and just the occasional fluffywhite cloud floating across the perfect blue sky – and for once, I’m not goingto worry about anything at all, except maybe which department store I’m goingto explore first!
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
I went to Harrods years ago, in my teens, but I wasobviously too young to fully appreciate the eye-popping sparkle and sheergrandeur of the place. Everywhere I look, as I float around in a daze, there’ssomething to exclaim over – from the gorgeous but extortionately priceydesigner clothes and exotic furnishings, to the glittering cafés andrestaurants. Awed tourists in summer leggings and T-shirts – with theirsouvenir Harrods bags – brush shoulders with the rich and stylish, for whom shoppinghere is probably the equivalent of most people popping to the corner shop!
After glancing at a few dress price tags and privatelygawping in amazement, I decide to treat my visit as purely anexperience.My stomach is starting to rumble now, though, so I’m tempted to treat myself toa snack in one of the cafés. Okay, it’ll probably cost more here for coffee andcake than my entire food shop for a fortnight, but what the hell? I’mcelebrating today. And I can afford it!
I glance at an information board and decide to head for oneof the cafés – but finding an escalator going up instead of down takes a while,and then I find myself passing a restaurant that appears to serveMichelin-starred food. I linger at the entrance, just gazing at the menu andsalivating over the dishes on offer. I’ve never eaten at a restaurant with aMichelin star before...
Oh hell, why not?
Straightening up, I take a deep breath and go inside.
It’s busier than I imagined and I’m seated at a table in thecentre of the restaurant. A waiter takes my drinks order and I’m aware of a fewcurious glances, probably from people wondering why I’m dining alone, but Iignore them and concentrate on the menu until my gin and tonic arrives. I takea sip from the elegant glass. The drink is icy cold and refreshing, and it sparkleson my palate, making me think of champagne.
Maybe I should have ordered champagne instead! I amcelebrating, after all.
But then I think of what a single glass of quality bubbleswould cost here. It definitely won’t be from the bargain bin!
I’ll just stick with my gin.
