Shopaholic on Honeymoon (6 page)

I carefully put the bottles down on the top step of the ladder and turn to survey the shop. I have an amazing view from up here. I can see all the aisles, and I can see that the woman at the cash register needs her roots touching up, and I can see …

What?

Wait a minute.

I stiffen in disbelief and peer more closely.

In the far corner there’s a girl I hadn’t noticed before. She’s incredibly thin, wearing pale skinny jeans, a grey hoody up over her head, and dark glasses that hide her face. And no wonder she’s dressed so furtively. Because she’s stealing.

I stare in utter shock as I see her putting a pair of socks into her oversized handbag (Balenciaga, this season), and then another. Then a third. Then she looks around, kind of shrinks down into herself and walks swiftly towards the exit.

I’ve never seen a shoplifter in action before, and for an instant I just feel stunned. But next moment a boiling outrage is rising through me. She took them! She shoplifted! She shouldn’t do that! People shouldn’t
do
that!

What if we all did that? I mean, I bet we’d all like to have free socks, but we don’t just take them, do we? We pay. Even if we can’t really afford it, we
pay
.

My stomach is churning as I watch her leave. I feel really angry. It’s
not fair
. And suddenly I know I can’t just let her go. I have to do something. I’m not sure what – but something.

Leaving the bottles behind, I bound down the ladder and out of the shop door. I can see the shoplifter ahead of me, and increase my pace to a run, dodging pedestrians as I go. As I get near, my heart is thumping with apprehension. What if she threatens me? What if she’s got a gun? Oh God, of
course
she’s got a gun. This is LA. Everyone has guns.

Well, too bad. Maybe I will get shot, but I can’t wimp out now. I reach out a hand and tap her on her bony shoulder.

‘Excuse me?’

The girl whips round and I tense in fright, waiting for the gun. But it doesn’t come. Her sunglasses are so huge I can barely see her face, but I make out a thin, pale chin and a scrawny, almost malnourished neck. I feel a sudden stab of guilt. Maybe she’s on the streets. Maybe this is her only source of income. Maybe she’s going to sell the socks to buy food for her crack-addict baby.

Part of me is thinking, ‘Just turn away, Becky. Let it go.’ But the other part won’t let me. Because even if there’s a crack-addict baby, it’s just wrong. It’s
wrong
.

‘I saw you, OK?’ I say. ‘I saw you taking those socks.’

The girl immediately stiffens, and makes to run away, but I instinctively grab her arm.

‘You shouldn’t steal stuff!’ I say, struggling to keep hold of her. ‘You just shouldn’t! You probably think, “So what? No one got hurt.” But you know, shop assistants get in trouble when people shoplift. Sometimes they have to pay for the goods from their wages. Is that fair?’

The girl is wriggling desperately to get away, but I’m gripping on to her arm with both hands. Being the mother of a two-year-old, you learn a lot of immobilization skills.

‘And then all the prices go up,’ I add, panting. ‘And everyone suffers! I know you might think it’s your only option, but it’s not. You can turn your life around. There are places you can go for help. Do you have a pimp?’ I add, trying to sound sympathetic. ‘Because I know they can be a real pain. But you could go to a safe house. I saw a documentary about it, and they’re brilliant.’ I’m about to elaborate when the girl’s sunglasses slip to one side. And I glimpse the side of her face.

And suddenly I feel faint. I can’t breathe. That’s—

No. It can’t be.

It is. It
is
.

It’s Lois Kellerton.

All thoughts of crack addicts and safe houses disappear from my head. This is surreal. It can’t be happening. It has to be a dream. I, Becky Brandon, née Bloomwood, am clutching the arm of top Hollywood actress Lois Kellerton. As I peer at her unmistakable jawline, my legs start to shake. I mean,
Lois Kellerton
. I’ve seen all her films and I’ve watched her on the red carpet and I’ve—

But what—

I mean,
what
on earth—

Lois Kellerton shoplifted three pairs of socks? Is this some kind of candid-camera show?

For what seems like the longest moment, we’re both motionless, staring at each other. I’m remembering her as Tess in that brilliant adaptation of
Tess of the d’Urbervilles
. God, she made me cry. And there was that sci-fi one where she got deliberately stranded on Mars at the end, in order to save her half-alien children. I cried
buckets
, and so did Suze.

I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts. ‘I … I know who you—’

‘Please,’ she cuts me off in that familiar husky voice. ‘Please.’ She takes off her dark glasses and I stare at her in fresh shock. She looks terrible. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her skin is all flaky. ‘Please,’ she says a third time. ‘I’m … I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you employed by the shop?’

‘No. I’m a customer. I was up a ladder.’

‘Did they see me?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

With a trembling hand she grabs the three pairs of socks from her bag and offers them to me.

‘I don’t know what I was doing. I haven’t slept for two nights. I think I went a little crazy. I never did anything like this before. I never will again. Please,’ she whispers again, shrinking inside her hoody. ‘Take the socks. Take them back.’

‘
Me?
’

‘Please.’ She sounds desperate. At last, awkwardly, I take the socks from her.

‘Here.’ She’s scrabbling in her bag again and produces a fifty-dollar note. ‘Give this to the employees.’

‘You look quite … um … stressed,’ I venture. ‘Are you OK?’

Lois Kellerton raises her head and meets my eyes, and I’m suddenly reminded of a leopard I once saw in a Spanish zoo. That looked desperate, too.

‘Are you going to tell the police?’ she breathes, so quietly I can barely hear her. ‘Are you going to tell anyone?’

Oh God. Oh
God
. What do I do?

I put the socks in my bag, playing for time. I should tell the police. Of course I should. What difference does it make if she’s a movie star? She stole the socks and that’s a crime and I should perform a citizen’s arrest right now and march her off for justice.

But … I can’t. I just
can’t
. She looks so fragile. Like a moth or a paper flower. And after all, she’s giving the socks back, and she’s making a donation, and it sounds like she just had a moment of madness …

Lois Kellerton’s head is bowed. Her face is hidden inside the grey hood. She looks as though she’s waiting for an execution.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I say at last. ‘I promise. I’ll give the socks back and I won’t tell anyone.’

As I release my grip on her, her thin hand squeezes mine. Her dark glasses are already back on her face. She looks like an anonymous skinny girl in a hoody.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers. ‘Thank you. What’s your name?’

‘Becky,’ I reply eagerly. ‘Becky Bloomwood. I mean, Brandon. I was Bloomwood but I got married, so my name changed …’ Argh, stop gabbling. ‘Um, Becky,’ I finish lamely. ‘My name is Becky.’

‘Thank you, Becky.’

And before I can say anything, she’s turned and gone.

Sophie Kinsella
is an international bestselling writer and former financial journalist. She is the author of many number one bestsellers, including the hugely popular Shopaholic series.

She has also written seven bestselling novels as Madeleine Wickham.

She lives in London with her husband and family.

Visit her website at
www.sophiekinsella.co.uk

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sophiekinsella.co.uk
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THE SECRET DREAMWORLD OF A SHOPAHOLIC
(also published as Confessions of a Shopaholic)
Meet Becky – a journalist who spends all her time telling people how to manage money, and all her leisure time spending it. But the letters from her bank manager are getting harder to ignore. Can she ever escape this dream world, find true love … and regain the use of her credit card?

SHOPAHOLIC ABROAD
Becky’s life is peachy. Her balance is in the black – well, nearly – and now her boyfriend has asked her to move to New York with him. Can Becky keep the man and the clothes, when there’s so much temptation around every corner?

SHOPAHOLIC TIES THE KNOT
Becky finally has the perfect job, the perfect man and, at last, the perfect wedding. Or rather,
weddings
… How has Becky ended up with not one, but two big days?

SHOPAHOLIC & SISTER
Becky has received some incredible news. She has a long-lost sister! But how will she cope when she realises her sister is not a shopper … but a skinflint?

SHOPAHOLIC & BABY
Becky is pregnant! But being Becky, she decides to shop around – for a new, more expensive obstetrician, and unwittingly ends up employing Luke’s ex-girlfriend! How will Becky make it through the longest nine months of her life?

MINI SHOPAHOLIC
Times are hard, so Becky’s Cutting Back. She has the perfect idea: throw a budget-busting birthday party. But her daughter Minnie can turn the simplest event into chaos. Whose turn will it be to sit on the naughty step?

SHOPAHOLIC TO THE STARS
Becky is in Hollywood! And she has her heart set on a new career – she’s going to be a celebrity stylist. With her best friend Suze, she embarks on the Hollywood insider trail. But somehow, things aren’t quite working out as they hoped …

CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?
Certain she’s going to die in a plane crash, Emma blurts out her deepest, darkest secrets to the sexy stranger next to her. But it’s OK, because she’ll never have to see him again … will she?

THE UNDOMESTIC GODDESS
Samantha works all hours, has no home life and thrives on adrenalin. Then one day it all falls apart. She finds herself a new life as housekeeper in a country house. Will her old life ever catch up with her? And if it does, will she want it back?

REMEMBER ME?
What if you woke up and your life was perfect? Somehow Lexi’s life has fast-forwarded three years, and she has everything she’s ever wanted – the job, the house, the man. Or does she? What went on in those missing years, and can she cope when she finds out the truth?

TWENTIES GIRL
Lara has always had an overactive imagination. But even she finds it hard to believe when the ghost of her great aunt Sadie shows up, asking for her help. Is Lara losing her mind? Or could two girls from different times end up helping each other?

I’VE GOT YOUR NUMBER
Lara has always had an overactive imagination. But even she finds it hard to believe when the ghost of her great aunt Sadie shows up, asking for her help. Is Lara losing her mind? Or could two girls from different times end up helping each other?

WEDDING NIGHT
Lottie is determined to get married. And Ben seems perfect – they have history, he’s gorgeous and he’s willing to do it now. They’ll iron out their little differences later. All that’s left to do is seal the deal. But their families have different plans …

AVAILABLE AS A DIGITAL SHORT ONLY
SIX GEESE A-LAYING
Christmas is approaching, and Ginny is looking forward to the birth of her first baby. It’s a pity her partner Dan is so useless, and she has to keep reminding him where he’s going wrong. She’s enrolled into the most exclusive antenatal class going – and like the other five women in the class, Ginny already knows exactly how she’s going to handle motherhood. Or does she?