She’s probably scrutinizing me in exactly the same way, I suddenly realize.
“I’ve hardly been able to sleep!” I say, and give her a slightly bashful smile. “It’s so exciting to meet you at last!”
Jess nods but doesn’t say anything. Gosh, she is very reserved. I’ll have to draw her out a bit.
“Am I anything like you imagined?” I give a self-conscious little laugh and smooth my hair back.
Jess surveys me for a moment, moving her eyes around my face.
“I didn’t really imagine what you’d be like,” she says at last.
“Oh, right.”
“I don’t imagine things much,” she adds. “I just take them as they come.”
“Have a biscuit, Jess,” Mum says pleasantly. “These are pecan and maple.”
“Thanks,” says Jess, taking one. “I love pecans.”
“Me too!” I look up in astonishment. “I love them too!”
God, it just shows. Genes will out. We were brought up miles away from each other in different families . . . but we still have the same tastes!
“Jess, why didn’t you call from the station?” Dad says, taking a cup of coffee from Mum. “I would have picked you up. You didn’t need to take a cab!”
“I didn’t get a cab,” says Jess. “I walked.”
“You walked?” says Dad in surprise. “From Oxshott Station?”
“From Kingston. I took the coach down.” She gulps her coffee. “It was far cheaper. I saved twenty-five pounds.”
“You walked all the way from Kingston?” Mum looks appalled.
“It was no distance,” says Jess. “And the bus would have been three pounds fifty.”
“Jess is a very keen walker, Becky,” explains Mum. She smiles at Jess. “It’s your main hobby, isn’t it, love?”
This is too much. We should be on a documentary or something!
“Me too!” I exclaim. “It’s my hobby too! Isn’t that amazing?”
There’s silence. I look around at the bewildered faces of my family. Honestly! What’s wrong with them?
“Is walking your hobby, love?” Mum says uncertainly.
“Of course it is! I walk round London all the time! Don’t I, Luke?”
Luke gives me a quizzical look.
“Certain streets of London have been pounded down by your feet, yes,” he agrees.
“Do you do power walking, then?” Jess asks, looking interested.
“Well . . .” I think for a few moments. “It’s more like . . . I combine it with other activities. For variety.”
“Like cross-training?”
“Er . . . kind of.” I nod, and take a bite of biscuit.
There’s another little silence, as if everyone’s waiting for everyone else to speak. Why are we all so awkward? We should be natural.
“Do you like . . . films?” I ask at last.
“Some,” replies Jess, frowning thoughtfully. “I like films that say something. That have some sort of message.”
“Me too,” I agree fervently. “Every film should definitely have a message.”
Which is true. I mean . . . take the Lord of the Rings movies—they’ve got loads of messages. Like “Don’t lose your ring.”
“More coffee, anyone?” says Mum, looking round. “There’s another coffeepot ready in the kitchen—”
“I’ll go,” I chime in, leaping up from the sofa. “And, Luke, why don’t you come and . . . er . . . help me? In case I . . . can’t find it.”
I know I don’t sound very convincing, but I don’t care. I’m just dying to talk to Luke.
As soon as we’re in the kitchen I shut the door and look at him eagerly. “So? What do you think of my sister?”
“She seems very nice.”
“Isn’t she great? And there are so many similarities between us! Don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry?” Luke stares at me.
“Jess and me! We’re so alike!”
“Alike?” Luke looks flabbergasted.
“Yes!” I say, a tad impatiently. “Weren’t you listening? She likes pecans, I like pecans . . . she likes walking, I like walking . . . we both like films. . . .” I make a whirling motion with my hands. “It’s like there’s already this amazing understanding between us!”
“If you say so,” he says dubiously.
“Don’t you like her?” I say, crestfallen.
“Of course I like her! But I’ve hardly spoken two words to her. And nor have you.”
“Well . . . I know,” I admit. “But that’s because we’re all so stilted in there. We can’t chat properly. So I thought I’d suggest the two of us go out together somewhere. Really have a chance to bond.”
“Like where?”
“I don’t know. For a walk. Or . . . a little shopping trip, maybe!”
“Aha.” He nods. “A little shopping trip. Good idea. I’m assuming this would be on your daily budget of twenty pounds.”
What? I cannot believe he’s bringing up the budget at a time like this. I mean, how many times do you go shopping with your long-lost sister for the very first time?
“This is a one-off, extraordinary event.” I’m trying to control my impatience. “Clearly I need an extra budget.”
“I thought we agreed, no one-offs,” says Luke. “No ‘unique opportunities.’ Don’t you remember?”
I feel a surge of outrage.
“Fine!” I say, folding my arms. “I won’t bond with my sister.”
The only sound in the kitchen is the ticking of the wall clock. I give a huge sigh and glance surreptitiously at Luke, but he seems unmoved.
“Becky!” Mum’s voice interrupts us. “Where’s the coffee? We’re all waiting!” She comes into the kitchen and looks from Luke to me in alarm. “There isn’t a problem, is there? You’re not arguing?”
I turn to Mum.
“I want to take Jess out shopping, but Luke says I’ve got to stick to my budget!”
“Luke!” exclaims Mum reproachfully. “I think that’s a lovely idea, Becky! You two girls should spend some time together. Why not pop to Kingston? You could have lunch, too.”
“Exactly!” I’m shooting resentful vibes at Luke. “But I haven’t got any money except twenty quid.”
“And as I say, we’re on a budget,” says Luke in implacable tones. “I’m sure you’d agree that successful budgeting is the first rule of a happy marriage, Jane?”
“Yes, yes, of course . . .” says Mum, looking distracted. Suddenly her face brightens. “The Greenlows!”
The who?
“Your cousins in Australia! They sent a check for your wedding present! I’ve been meaning to give it to you. It’s in Australian dollars . . . but even so, it’s quite a lot. . . .” She roots around in a drawer and pulls it out. “Here we are! Five hundred Australian dollars!”
“Fantastic!” I take the check from her and examine it.
“So now you can treat yourself and Jess to something nice!” Mum squeezes my arm with a smile.
“You see?” I say in triumph.
“OK. You win. This time.” Luke rolls his eyes.
Suddenly excited, I hurry into the living room.
“Hi, Jess!” I say. “D’you want to go out somewhere? Like to the shops?”
“Oh.” Jess looks taken aback. “Well . . .”
“Go on, love!” says Mum, coming in behind me. “Have a little spree!”
“We can go and have lunch somewhere . . . really get to know each other. . . . What do you think?”
“Well . . . OK,” she says at last.
“Excellent!”
I feel a zing of anticipation. My first-ever shopping trip with my sister! This is so thrilling!
“I’ll go and get ready.”
“Wait,” says Jess. “Just before you go. I brought you something too. It’s not much, but . . .”
She goes over to her rucksack, opens it, and takes out a parcel wrapped up in paper printed all over with the words happy new year 19
99.
That is so cool!
“I love kitsch wrapping paper!” I say, admiring it. “Where did you find it?”
“It was free from the bank,” says Jess.
“Oh,” I say in surprise. “Er . . . excellent!”
I rip off the wrapping and find a plastic box, divided into three compartments.
“Wow!” I exclaim at once. “That’s fantastic! Thank you so much! It’s just what I wanted!” I fling an arm round Jess’s neck and give her a kiss.
“What is it, love?” Mum asks, looking at it with interest.
To be honest, I’m not actually quite sure.
“It’s a food saver,” explains Jess. “You can keep leftovers in it, and they all stay separate. Rice . . . casserole . . . whatever. I couldn’t live without mine.”
“That’s brilliant! It’ll be so useful.” I look at the three compartments thoughtfully. “I think I’ll keep all my lip balms in it.”
“Lip balms?” says Jess, clearly taken aback.
“I’m always losing them! Aren’t you?” I put the lid back on and admire it for a few more moments. Then I pick up the wrapping paper and crumple it into a ball.
Jess winces as though someone just trod on her foot.
“You could have folded that up,” she says, and I look at her, puzzled.
Why on earth would I fold used wrapping paper?
But then, maybe this is one of her pet habits that I’ll have to get used to. We all have little quirks.
“Oh, right!” I say. “Of course. Silly me!”
I uncrease the crumpled paper, smooth it out, and fold it carefully into quarters.
“There we are.” With a cheerful smile I drop it in the wastepaper bin. “Let’s go!”
Eleven
It only takes fifteen minutes by car to get to Kingston, which is the nearest big shopping center to Mum and Dad. I find a meter, and after about twenty attempts manage to park the car vaguely in a straight line. Jess sits stoically beside me in the passenger seat, saying nothing. Not even when the lorry driver starts hooting at me.
Anyway, never mind. The point is, we’re here! It’s a fantastic day, sunny but not too warm, with tiny clouds scudding across the blue sky. As I get out, I look around the sunlit street, feeling all buzzy with anticipation. My first shopping trip with my sister! What shall we do first?
As I start to feed the parking meter, I go through all the options in my head. We should definitely get a free makeover, and check out that new underwear shop Mum was talking about. . . .
“How long exactly are we planning to stay here?” Jess asks as I shove in my sixth pound coin.
“This should take us up to six o’clock . . . and after that, parking’s free!”
“Six o’clock?” She looks a bit stunned.
“Don’t worry!” I say reassuringly. “The shops don’t close at six. They’ll be open till at least eight.”
And we have to go into a department store, and try on lots of evening dresses. One of my best times ever was when I spent a whole afternoon trying on posh dresses in Harrods with Suze. We kept putting on more and more outrageous million-pound frocks, and swooshing around, and all the snooty assistants got really annoyed and kept asking had we made our choice yet?
At last Suze said she thought she had . . . but she wanted to see it with a Cartier diamond tiara just to make sure, and could Jewelry possibly send one up?
I think that’s when they asked us to leave.
God, Suze and I used to have fun together. She is just the best person in the world for saying “Go on! Buy it!” Even when I was stone broke, she’d say “Buy it! I’ll pay! You can always pay me back.” And then she’d buy one too, and we’d go and have a cappuccino.
But anyway. There’s no point getting all nostalgic.
“So!” I turn to Jess. “What do you feel like doing first? There are loads of shops here: two department stores . . .”
“I hate department stores,” says Jess. “They make me feel ill.”
“Oh, right.” That’s fair enough. Loads of people hate department stores.
“Well, there are lots of boutiques too. In fact, I’ve just thought of the perfect place!”
I lead her off the main high street, away from the pedestrianized shopping precinct, and turn left down a cobbled side road. As we walk, I hitch my Angel bag higher on my shoulder, admiring its reflection in a shop window across the street. That bag was worth every single penny.
I’m slightly surprised Jess hasn’t said anything about it, actually. If my sister had an Angel bag, it would be the first thing I’d mention. But then, maybe she’s trying to be all cool and blasé.
“So . . . where do you normally shop?” I ask.
“Wherever’s cheapest,” replies Jess.
“Me too! I got the most fab Ralph Lauren top at this designer outlet in Utah. Ninety percent off!”
“I tend to do a lot of bulk buying,” says Jess with a little frown. “If you buy large enough quantities, you can get pretty good savings.”
Oh my God. We are totally on the same wavelength. I knew we would be!
“You are so right!” I exclaim in delight. “That’s what I keep trying to explain to Luke! But he just can’t see the logic.”
“So, do you belong to a warehouse club?” Jess looks at me with interest. “Or a food co-op?”
A food co-op?
“Er . . . no. But on my honeymoon, I did loads of excellent bulk buying! I bought forty mugs and twenty silk dressing gowns!”
“Silk dressing gowns?” echoes Jess, looking taken aback.
“They were such an investment! I told Luke it made financial sense, but he just wouldn’t listen. . . . OK! Here we are! This is it.”
We’ve arrived at the glass doors of Georgina’s. It’s a big, light boutique selling clothes, jewelry, and the most gorgeous bags. I’ve been coming here since I was twelve, and it’s one of my favorite shops in the world.
“You are going to love this shop,” I say to Jess happily, and push the door open. Sandra, one of the assistants, is arranging a collection of beaded purses on a pedestal, and she looks up as the door pings. Her face lights up immediately.
“Becky! Long time no see! How was the honeymoon?”
“Great, thanks!”
“And how’s married life treating you?” She grins. “Had your first big bust-up yet?”
“Ha-ha,” I say, grinning back. I’m about to introduce Jess, when Sandra shrieks.
“Oh my God! Is that an Angel bag? Is it real?”
“Yes,” I glow. Owning an Angel bag is just total bliss.
“I don’t believe it. She’s got an Angel bag!” Sandra calls out to the other two assistants. They rush to the front of the shop, gasping, “Can I touch it? Where did you get it?”
“Milan.”
“Only Becky Bloomwood.” Sandra’s shaking her head. “Only Becky Bloomwood would walk in here with an Angel bag. So how much did that cost you?”
“Er . . . enough!”
“Wow.” She strokes it gingerly. “It’s absolutely . . . amazing.”
“What’s so special?” Jess asks blankly. “I mean . . . it’s just a bag.”
There’s a stunned pause, then we all burst out laughing. God, Jess is quite witty!
“Sandra, I want to introduce you to someone.” I pull Jess forward. “This is my sister!”
“Your sister?” Sandra looks at Jess in shock. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Neither did I! We’re long-lost sisters, aren’t we, Jess?” I put an arm round her.
“Half sisters,” corrects Jess, a little stiffly.
“Georgina!” Sandra is calling to the back of the shop. “Georgina, you have to come out here! You won’t believe it! Becky Bloomwood’s here—and she’s got a sister! There are two of them!”
A curtain swishes back and Georgina, the owner of the shop, comes out. She’s in her fifties, with slate-gray hair and the most amazing turquoise eyes. She’s w
earing a velvet tunic top with pencil-thin black trousers and she’s holding a fountain pen. Her eyes sparkle when she sees me and Jess.
“Two Bloomwood sisters,” she says softly. “Well. What a wonderful thing.”
She exchanges looks with the assistants.
“We’ll reserve two fitting rooms,” says Sandra promptly.
“If there aren’t enough, we can always share a fitting room, can’t we, Jess!” I say.
“I’m sorry?” Jess looks startled.
“We’re sisters!” I give her an affectionate squeeze. “We shouldn’t be shy with each other!”
“It’s OK,” says Sandra, glancing at Jess’s face. “There are plenty of fitting rooms. Take your time walking round . . . and enjoy!”
“I told you this was a nice place!” I say happily to Jess. “So . . . let’s start here!”
I head over to a rack full of delicious-looking tops and start leafing through the hangers. “Isn’t this gorgeous?” I pull out a pink T-shirt with a little butterfly motif. “And this one with the daisy would really suit you!”
“Do you want to try them?” says Sandra. “I can pop them in the fitting rooms for you.”
“Yes, please!” I hand them over and smile at Jess.
But she doesn’t smile back. In fact, she hasn’t moved from the spot.
I suppose it can be a bit weird, shopping for the first time with someone new. Sometimes it just clicks straightaway, like when I went shopping for the first time with Suze and we both reached for the same Lulu Guinness makeup bag simultaneously. But sometimes it can be a bit awkward, not knowing what each other’s tastes are yet . . . and you keep trying different things and asking “Do you like this? Or this?”
I think Jess might need a bit of encouragement.
“These skirts are fabulous!” I say, going over to another rack, which is filled with evening wear. “This black one with the netting would look amazing on you!” I take it down and hold it up against Jess. She reaches for the price tag, looks at it, and goes pale.
“I can’t believe these prices,” she murmurs.
“They’re pretty reasonable, aren’t they?” I murmur back.
“And the skirt?” says Sandra, popping up behind us.