How Not to Shop (30 page)

With a deep sigh, she switched on her computer and opened up her file of contacts. Then she logged onto her eBay account and clicked through to her little shop front.

AnnieV's Trading Station had been completely neglected of late. For the first time in years, there was nothing for sale. Just her eBay name and beside it the blue star of a power seller and the number of items she'd sold in brackets (14,521).

Selling off her unwanted wardrobe items, plus discount buys from The Store, plus all the things her clients parted with every season, had been a lucrative sideline for Annie for many years. Last year, she'd flirted with the idea of going into business full time and had begun something interesting, importing Chinese shoes and Italian bags. There had even been a meeting with the shoe buyer from Fraser's. If the TV offer hadn't come up, she would probably be running her own small shoe business by now.

She could begin again, she told herself. She would get all fired up again.

It was just today . . . She gave a deep, tired sigh and sank her head down into her hands. Today felt a bit hard. Today felt as if everything she had done so far had brought her all the way to precisely nowhere and she was standing just where she'd stood so many times before. At the beginning.

'Oh, stop with the gloom!' she told herself fiercely, 'you're going to be fine.'

Annie looked up. Dave was still sitting there, his head cocked to the side now as if in surprise. Wasn't he deaf? Maybe he picked up the vibrations of sound or something.

She
was
going to be fine, she thought again. If there was one thing she could do, it was to pick herself up, brush herself down and start all over again. It was her unique talent.

She glanced up for inspiration at the small card she'd pinned to her noticeboard this morning. She didn't have to read it again, she knew what it said: 'Annie Valentine, how can I ever thank you enough? You've changed my life! Love Tina.' It had arrived in the post yesterday, with two of the Polaroids which Bob had taken and given to Tina: the 'before' and the knockout 'after'.

'C'mon!' Annie told herself, when looking at the card didn't work, 'let's have just a teeny, weeny look at handbags on eBay and cheer ourselves up, ha Dave? You don't look like much of a handbag kind of guy but bear with me . . .'

She started tapping at the keyboard. Handbags . . . Mulberry . . . used . . . (there was no point buying new Mulberry bags on eBay because they were bound to be fakes.) Up came 168 results. Annie scanned expertly.

Then almost without thinking about it she began dialling the relevant contact from her list.

'Angela! How are you, sweetheart? It's your favourite personal shopper, Annie V.'

'Annie!' Angela shrieked in response, 'how are you? How's it going on TV?'

'Pants!' came the pithy reply, borrowed from Owen.

But Annie set a smile in place and made the story of her own personal Armageddon as funny as she could. Then she breezed on with: 'So I'm checking out some Roger Saul Mulberry originals on eBay this morning and of course, I'm thinking of you.'

'Ooooh, what have you seen?' Angela asked.

'A square tote, leopardskin effect leather, tortoiseshell handles. Absolutely gorgeous. Starting bid forty-five pounds.'

'Mmmm. I am seriously tempted. Usual conditions?'

Annie took 15 per cent for everything she bought and sold for clients on eBay.

'Uh-huh. How's your wardrobe looking, my darlin', want to go on a shopping trip with me? Make my week?'

'Annie, you know I would have loved to . . .'

Uh-oh.

'But I thought you were off. Away, out of it all. So I've gone and spent my wardrobe allowance without you. I didn't make too much of a mess of it either,' Angela added proudly.

'Glad to hear it,' Annie said, which wasn't exactly true.

'Bettina! It's Annie Valentine . . . yes . . . lovely to hear you too. How's it going?'

Annie was soon on to her sixth client cold call and she still hadn't drummed up one single job. Everyone had been shopping without her, or worse still claimed they weren't shopping this year at all.

The credit crunch.

If she heard those words one more time, she would scream.

'But we don't have to go to The Store,' she'd tried convincing one former client, 'there is so much fantastic stuff out there on the high street at giveaway prices, you just need to know where to look.'

'The high street?' had come the uncertain question. 'I think I'll just wear the lovely things I already have for another season instead of getting anything new and a bit . . . cheap.'

'Cheap is clever,' Annie had tried to persuade her. 'I mean have you seen the bangles in Topshop? They look just like the ones in Theo Fennell. We're all doing recession chic now . . .'

But to no avail.

Bettina wasn't in the mood for spending big money with her personal shopper either.

'My husband has slashed my budget,' she complained, making Annie wonder for a moment why Bettina didn't just get up off her pampered behind and make some money so she could set a budget of her own.

'I don't think I'm even going to be able to afford my make-up – not even my special face creams!' Bettina wailed.

'I'll take you to the Rimmel concession,' Annie wheedled, 'it's fabulous, Kate Moss doesn't use anything else. And you have got to try the new Olay moisturizers. They are giving them away at Superdrug. Seriously!'

'Really?' Bettina's interest was a little pricked.

'They're the business,' Annie enthused, 'my face has looked like a baby's bottom ever since I started using them and you know what a wrinkled old bag I used to be.'

With those words, Annie glanced over at her reflection. The Botox was still holding firm. She liked it. But a little tiny top-up just there over her eyebrows wouldn't go amiss. Once she had some money coming in!

'Bets, I've got an idea,' Annie began. 'Why don't we have a wardrobe play date? I come over, I look through everything you've already got and we work out how to make it fresh. How to tweak it for the months ahead. We dig through the scarves, belts and necklaces. We move some hemlines up or down. We work with what's there, babes, and for just a few pounds, we reinvent your clothes for the new season. Plus . . . we'll have a laugh! Go on . . . just say yes,' Annie wheedled. 'I could come tomorrow . . . you know what, I could even come today.'

'The usual rate?' Bettina asked. Now Annie knew the bait was taken, she just had to close the deal.

'Mates' rates,' she assured her, 'I'll charge you by the hour and you just stop me when you've had enough fun.'

'Well, I think tomorrow would be good,' Bettina said.

Annie wanted to dance about the room.

'Say lunchtime?' Bettina added.

Annie ran the plan quickly through her mind. Tomorrow was Friday, minibreak day. There were bags to pack, meals to organize . . . they'd hoped to leave London at four-ish, before the Friday rush hour kicked in properly. If she was at Bettina's at 11.30 and stayed for three hours or so, that would leave just enough time to get home, get organized. Well, it would be a rush, but three hours at Bettina's would at least be something in her wallet for the weekend.

She had to do it.

'Does 11.30 suit?' she offered.

'Yes. And bring a bottle of the Olay. I'll give it a try.'

As soon as Annie had hung up, she opened her diary and wrote on Friday's page: 'Bettina, wardrobe play-date 11.30' in bold letters with a red felt-tip pen.

It wasn't that Annie was in any danger of forgetting, it was just so encouraging to see it written down there. To know that she was back and she really could drum money up out of nothing with her skills. She felt a little burst of her energy return. Just enough to make the next round of calls. As soon as there was a whole week in the diary packed with appointments, she would feel like her old self again.

Turning her head quickly back to the clients' contact page, she saw the flick of her ponytail in the mirror again. It was under serious review, that ponytail.

Before Annie could punch in the numbers of her next target, her mobile began to trill.

It was Ed. She glanced at her watch: 12.45 already, so he was on his lunch break.

'How's Dave?' was his first question.

'Oh, so that's how it is now? No more, hello darlin' how are you? It's the dog first?' she teased.

Looking round the small room, she couldn't see Dave. He must have wandered out while she was on the phone. She would have to go and check on him, make sure he wasn't peeing on the rugs or looking for another one of Owen's
Dr Who
figures to chew. There had been a temporary suspension last night of the fond dog/boy relations when a small platoon of plastic alien Judoon had been discovered in a state of total annihilation.

'He's part terrier,' Ed had tried to explain: 'terriers love to dig and chew.'

'And yap and wee,' Annie had added.

'I just want to make sure that you and Dave are getting on,' Ed told her now.

'I still hate you for Dave,' Annie replied, 'I really do not need a Dave in my life. I mean it's such a stupid name for a start. If he's deaf, why can't we rename him?'

'Well . . .' she had a point, Ed had to admit, 'I think you'll have to speak to Owen about that. He's the one who wanted a dog so badly, he's the one who chose him.'

'Why did I not know anything about this?
Before
it was done?'

'You'd have said no,' Ed admitted. 'Anyway, how many times have you gone and done something without telling me because you knew perfectly well I'd have said no?'

Annie couldn't answer.

'How's your mum?' he asked, to move away from the dog debate.

'I've sent her to the shops. If she's not back in half an hour, I'll have to send out a search party. But I think she'll be fine.'

'I'm really, really looking forward to going away with you,' Ed told her.

'Yeah . . . wait till Saturday, when you find out what I've got you for your birthday.'

'You need a little break after everything you've been through.' He cleared his throat hesitantly, before adding, 'But . . . I think we'll have to take Dave.'

'WHAT!?'

'Well, it's a lot for Dinah to deal with as well as the kids and Elena. She'll have to keep some sort of tabs on Elena for us.'

Annie's call waiting began to beep.

'Another call, babes,' she told Ed, determined that somehow she would not be taking Dave on their mini-break, 'gotta go.'

'Annah!'

There was no mistaking Svetlana's voice on the other end of the line.

'Hey, how are you doing?'

'Terrible! I am missing you completely on the set. It is fraught. Marlise go shopping with the fat women and make them cry.'

Annie couldn't help giving a satisfied smile at this piece of news. Ha! It wasn't as easy as Finn had thought to just erase her and replace her.

'Are you phoning to ask how Elena is?' Annie asked pointedly. It was nearly a week since Elena had landed and Svetlana had still not even come to see her.