Mini Shopaholic

‘Which one shall we go to?’ ventures Janice at last. ‘The 99p shop is slightly cheaper, obviously …’ She peters out.

Mum’s eyes keep being dawn across the road to Emma Jane Gifts, this gorgeous boutique full of cashmere knitwear and hand-made ceramics, which we both love pottering around. I can even see a couple of Mum’s friends from bridge in there, giving us little waves. But then Mum pulls herself up firmly as though going into battle, and swivels towards the pound shop.

‘I have certain standards, Janice,’ she says with quiet dignity, like a general saying he’ll dress for dinner even though bombs are dropping all around him. ‘I don’t think we need to sink to the 99p shop quite yet.’

‘OK,’ whispers Janice nervously.

‘I’m not ashamed to be seen here,’ adds Mum. ‘Why should I be ashamed? This is our new way of life, and we’re all just going to have to get used to it. If your father says we have to exist on turnip jam, then so be it.’

‘Mum, he didn’t say we had to have turnip jam—’ I begin, but Mum is already sweeping in, her head proudly high. I exchange glances with Jess and follow.

Wow. This place is bigger than I thought. And there’s such a lot of stuff! Mum has already taken a basket and is putting tins of some dodgy-looking meat into it with jerky, resentful little movements.

‘Your father will just have to adjust his taste buds to suit his wallet!’ she says, clattering another one in. ‘Maybe nutrition is something we can’t afford any more! Maybe vitamins are only for the super-rich!’

‘Ooh, chocolate bourbons!’ I say, spotting some. ‘Get some of those, Mum. And Toblerones!’

Hey. There’s a rack of cotton-wool balls over there. It would be crazy not to stock up on them. I mean, it wouldn’t make economic sense. And there are make-up applicators and even eyelash curlers! For a pound! I grab a basket and start filling it.

‘Jane!’ A breathless voice greets us and I see Janice, clutching a load of packets labelled ‘solar garden lights’. ‘Have you seen these? They can’t cost a pound, surely.’

‘I think everything’s a pound—’ I begin, but she’s already tapping the shoulder of a salesgirl.

‘Excuse me,’ she says politely. ‘How much is this item?’

The sales girl shoots her a look of ineffable contempt. ‘Pahnd.’

‘And this?’ She gestures at a garden hose.

‘Pahnd. Everyfink’s a pahnd. Pahnd shop, innit?’

‘But … but …’ Janice seems about to expire with excitement. ‘This is incredible! Do you realize how much these would cost in John Lewis?’

There’s a gasp from the next aisle along and I look up to see Mum brandishing a load of plastic storage boxes. Her martyred air has vanished and her eyes are bright. ‘Janice! Tupperware!’

I’m about to follow them when I notice a rack of glittery snakeskin belts. This is unbelievable. I mean, a belt for a pound! It would be criminal not to. And there’s a whole load of hair extensions and wigs … God, this place is brilliant. Why have I never come here before?

I put five belts and a selection of wigs into my basket, and throw in a few bits of ‘famous brands’ make-up (even though I haven’t heard of any of the brands), then wander down to find myself in front of a rack labelled ‘Second-hand supplies –catering returns, sold as seen’.

Wow. Look at this. There are loads of place cards and table confetti and stuff. Perfect for a party.

I stare at them silently for a few moments, my mind circling round and round. Obviously I can’t buy the stuff for Luke’s party at the pound shop. It would be really cheapskate and stingy.

But they only cost a pound. And they’re proper catering supplies. And would he mind?

Put it this way: the less I spend on place cards and party poppers, the more I can spend on champagne. And everything’s a pound. A pound!

Oh God, I can’t pass this up. It’s too good an opportunity. Hastily I start shoving packets of place cards, party poppers, table confetti and napkin holders into my basket. I won’t tell anyone I got them at the pound shop. I’ll say I got them bespoke from a specialist entertainment company.

‘Do you need another basket?’ Jess appears by my side.

‘Oh, thanks.’ I take it and add some pop-up candelabra decorations, which I’ve just noticed. They look a bit manky, but no one’ll notice if the lights are dim enough.

‘Is this for Luke’s party?’ She nods at my basket with interest. ‘How are the preparations going?’ ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">