Shopaholic & Baby
Page 20
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I really love Suze.
Jess is leafing through Luxury Baby and flinching. “It’s shocking. I mean, what baby needs an inflatable bath? Or a designer crib?”
“Oh, I know.” I try to match her tones of disdain. “It’s terrible. Although I probably will buy, you know, a few things….”
“Have a look, Jess, love!” says Mum helpfully. “Becky’s already found a super crib for the baby!” She rummages among the catalogs. “Where is it, now? It’s got a light show…and vibrating action….”
I stiffen in horror.
Do not show Jess the £1,200 crib.
“Here it is!” Mum holds out Funky Baba.
“Jess doesn’t want to see that!” I try to grab the catalog, but Jess gets there first.
“Which page?” she says.
“Mum?” A voice interrupts us and we all look round. Standing in the doorway is a frowning guy with disheveled dark hair and stubble. He’s tall and rangy and he’s holding a beaten-up old paperback and I have no idea who he—
Hang on. Is that Tom?
Blimey. I barely recognize him. Mum’s right about the shaving: he doesn’t seem to have seen a razor for days.
“Dad needs help with one of his magic tricks,” he says abruptly to Janice. “The rabbit’s got stuck or something.”
“Oh dear!” says Janice, putting down her cup. “I’d better go. Tom, say hello nicely, love.”
“Hi, everyone.” Tom shoots a cursory glower round the room.
“You know Suze, Becky’s friend, don’t you?” twitters Janice. “And have you ever met Becky’s sister, Jess?”
“Hi, Tom!” says Suze cheerfully.
“Hi,” says Jess.
I glance nervously over at her, all ready for some lecture about how spending a thousand pounds on a crib is a mark of the evil, decadent times we live in. But to my surprise she’s not even looking at the catalog. She’s let it drop onto her lap and is gazing at Tom, transfixed.
And Tom is staring back at her.
Her eyes drop to the book he’s holding. “Is that The Consumer Society: Myths and Structures?”
“Yeah. Have you read it?”
“No, but I’ve read some of Baudrillard’s other work. The System of Objects.”
“I have it!” Tom takes a step toward her. “What did you think?”
Hang on a minute.
“His concept of simulacra and simulation is pretty interesting, I thought.”
Jess fiddles with the Tiffany bean I gave her. She never fiddles with that Tiffany bean. Oh my God. She fancies him!
“I’m trying to apply the collapsing of hyperrealities to my thesis of postmodern capitalistic entropy.” Tom nods intently.
This is fantastic! They’re good-looking and there’s chemistry and they’re talking English, only with weird in-words that no one else understands. It’s like an episode of The OC, right here in Mum’s living room!
I shoot a glance at Luke, who raises his eyebrows. Mum nudges Suze, who grins back. We’re all totally agog. As for Janice, she looks beside herself.
“Anyway.” Tom shrugs. “I should go….”
Like a whirlwind, Janice springs into action.
“Jess! Dear!” she exclaims, leaping up from the sofa. “We’ve never really got to know each other, have we? Why don’t you come back for tea, and you and Tom can carry on with your little talk?”
“Oh.” Jess looks taken aback. “Well…I’ve come to see everyone here….”
“You can see them later at the party!” Janice takes a firm grip on Jess’s tanned arm and starts chivvying her toward the door. “Jane, Graham, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” says Dad easily.
“Well, OK.” Jess glances at Tom and a faint rosy color appears on her cheeks. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” we all chorus.
The door closes behind them and we all look at each other in suppressed glee.
“Well!” says Mum, picking up the teapot. “Now, wouldn’t that be nice! We could take down the fence and have a marquee across both lawns!”
“Mum! Honestly!” I roll my eyes. That is just like her, getting ahead of herself and imagining all sorts of ridiculous—
Ooh. The baby could be the ring bearer!
While Jess is next door, Luke is reading the paper, and Tarquin is bathing the children, Suze and I take over my old bedroom. We turn on the radio loudly and run deep, sudsy baths, and take turns perching on the edge of the tub to chat, just like in the old days in Fulham. Then Suze sits on the bed, feeding the babies in turn while I paint my toenails.
Jess is leafing through Luxury Baby and flinching. “It’s shocking. I mean, what baby needs an inflatable bath? Or a designer crib?”
“Oh, I know.” I try to match her tones of disdain. “It’s terrible. Although I probably will buy, you know, a few things….”
“Have a look, Jess, love!” says Mum helpfully. “Becky’s already found a super crib for the baby!” She rummages among the catalogs. “Where is it, now? It’s got a light show…and vibrating action….”
I stiffen in horror.
Do not show Jess the £1,200 crib.
“Here it is!” Mum holds out Funky Baba.
“Jess doesn’t want to see that!” I try to grab the catalog, but Jess gets there first.
“Which page?” she says.
“Mum?” A voice interrupts us and we all look round. Standing in the doorway is a frowning guy with disheveled dark hair and stubble. He’s tall and rangy and he’s holding a beaten-up old paperback and I have no idea who he—
Hang on. Is that Tom?
Blimey. I barely recognize him. Mum’s right about the shaving: he doesn’t seem to have seen a razor for days.
“Dad needs help with one of his magic tricks,” he says abruptly to Janice. “The rabbit’s got stuck or something.”
“Oh dear!” says Janice, putting down her cup. “I’d better go. Tom, say hello nicely, love.”
“Hi, everyone.” Tom shoots a cursory glower round the room.
“You know Suze, Becky’s friend, don’t you?” twitters Janice. “And have you ever met Becky’s sister, Jess?”
“Hi, Tom!” says Suze cheerfully.
“Hi,” says Jess.
I glance nervously over at her, all ready for some lecture about how spending a thousand pounds on a crib is a mark of the evil, decadent times we live in. But to my surprise she’s not even looking at the catalog. She’s let it drop onto her lap and is gazing at Tom, transfixed.
And Tom is staring back at her.
Her eyes drop to the book he’s holding. “Is that The Consumer Society: Myths and Structures?”
“Yeah. Have you read it?”
“No, but I’ve read some of Baudrillard’s other work. The System of Objects.”
“I have it!” Tom takes a step toward her. “What did you think?”
Hang on a minute.
“His concept of simulacra and simulation is pretty interesting, I thought.”
Jess fiddles with the Tiffany bean I gave her. She never fiddles with that Tiffany bean. Oh my God. She fancies him!
“I’m trying to apply the collapsing of hyperrealities to my thesis of postmodern capitalistic entropy.” Tom nods intently.
This is fantastic! They’re good-looking and there’s chemistry and they’re talking English, only with weird in-words that no one else understands. It’s like an episode of The OC, right here in Mum’s living room!
I shoot a glance at Luke, who raises his eyebrows. Mum nudges Suze, who grins back. We’re all totally agog. As for Janice, she looks beside herself.
“Anyway.” Tom shrugs. “I should go….”
Like a whirlwind, Janice springs into action.
“Jess! Dear!” she exclaims, leaping up from the sofa. “We’ve never really got to know each other, have we? Why don’t you come back for tea, and you and Tom can carry on with your little talk?”
“Oh.” Jess looks taken aback. “Well…I’ve come to see everyone here….”
“You can see them later at the party!” Janice takes a firm grip on Jess’s tanned arm and starts chivvying her toward the door. “Jane, Graham, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” says Dad easily.
“Well, OK.” Jess glances at Tom and a faint rosy color appears on her cheeks. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” we all chorus.
The door closes behind them and we all look at each other in suppressed glee.
“Well!” says Mum, picking up the teapot. “Now, wouldn’t that be nice! We could take down the fence and have a marquee across both lawns!”
“Mum! Honestly!” I roll my eyes. That is just like her, getting ahead of herself and imagining all sorts of ridiculous—
Ooh. The baby could be the ring bearer!
While Jess is next door, Luke is reading the paper, and Tarquin is bathing the children, Suze and I take over my old bedroom. We turn on the radio loudly and run deep, sudsy baths, and take turns perching on the edge of the tub to chat, just like in the old days in Fulham. Then Suze sits on the bed, feeding the babies in turn while I paint my toenails.
