Confessions of a Shopaholic (Shopaholic #1)(112)
Author: Sophie Kinsella

Anyway. Not the point. The point is, it’s not just Luke, and it’s not just my new job with Morning Coffee (even though every time I remember it, I feel a leap of disbelieving joy).

No, it’s more than that. It’s that I feel like a completely new person. I feel as though I’m moving on to a new stage in life — with a different outlook, and different priorities. When I look back at the frivolous way I used to think — well, it makes me want to laugh, really. The new Rebecca is so much more levelheaded. So much more responsible. It’s as though the tinted glasses have fallen off — and suddenly I can see what’s really important in the world and what’s not.

I’ve even been thinking this morning that I might go into politics or something. Luke and I discussed politics a bit last night, and I have to say, I came up with lots of interesting views. I could be a young, intellectual member of parliament, and be interviewed about lots of important issues on television. I’d probably specialize in health, or education, or something like that. Maybe foreign affairs.

Casually I reach for the remote control and switch on the television, thinking I might watch the news. I flick a few times, trying to find BBC1, but the TV seems stuck on rubbish cable channels. Eventually I give up, leave it on something called QVT or something, and lean back down on my pillows.

The truth, I think, taking a sip of coffee, is that I’m quite a serious-minded person. That’s probably why Luke and I get on so well.

Mmm, Luke. Mmm, that’s a nice thought. I wonder where he is.

I sit up in bed, and am just considering going into the bathroom to surprise him, when a woman’s voice from the television attracts my attention.

“. . offering genuine NK Malone sunglasses, in tortoiseshell, black, and white, with that distinctive NKM logo in brushed chrome.”

That’s interesting, I think idly. NK Malone sunglasses. I’ve always quite wanted a pair of those.

“Buy all three pairs. .” the woman pauses “. . and pay not £400. Not £300. But £200! A saving of at least 40 percent off the recommended retail price.”

I stare at the screen, riveted.

But this is incredible. Incredible. Do you know how much NK Malone sunglasses usually cost? At least 140 quid. Each! Which means you’re saving. .

“Send no money now,” the woman is saying. “Simply call this number. .”

Excitedly I scrabble for the notebook on my bedside table and scribble down the number. This is an absolute dream come true. NK Malone sunglasses. I can’t quite believe it. And three pairs! I’ll never have to buy sunglasses again. People will call me the Girl in the NK Malone Shades. (And those Armani ones I bought last year are all wrong now. Completely out of date.) Oh, this is such an investment. With shaking hands I reach for the phone and dial the number.

And then I stop.

Wait just a moment. The new Rebecca has more self-control than this. The new Rebecca isn’t even interested in fashion.

Slowly I put the phone down. I reach for the remote and zap the TV to a different channel. A nature program. Yes, that’s more like it. There’s a close-up of a tiny green frog and a sober voice-over talking about the effect of drought on the ecosystem. I turn up the volume and settle back, pleased with myself. This is much more me. I’m not going to give those sunglasses a second thought. I’m going to learn about this tiny frog and the ecosystem, and global warming. Maybe Luke and I will talk about all these important issues, over breakfast.

NK Malone.

Stop it. Stop it. Watch the frog, and that tiny red beetle thing. .

I’ve wanted NK Malone sunglasses for so long. And £200 is amazing value for three pairs.

I could always give one pair away as a present.

And I deserve a little treat, don’t I? After everything I’ve been though? Just one little final luxury and that’s the end. I promise.

Grabbing the phone, I redial the number. I give my name and address, thank the woman very much indeed, then put down the receiver, a content smile on my face. This day is turning out perfect. And it’s only nine o’clock!

I turn off the nature program, snuggle back down under the covers, and close my eyes. Maybe Luke and I will spend all day here, in this lovely room. Maybe we’ll have oysters and champagne sent up. (I hope not, actually, because I hate oysters.) Maybe we’ll. .

Nine o’clock, interrupts a little voice in my mind. I frown for a second, shake my head, then turn over to get rid of it. But it’s still there, prodding annoyingly at my thoughts.

Nine o’clock. Nine. .

And suddenly I sit bolt upright in bed, my eyes wide in dismay. Oh my God.

Nine-thirty.