And Baby Makes Two - Dyan Sheldon [57]
I had almost everything in less than a week. Chocolates for my nan and Charlene’s kids, aftershave for each of the men, bath oils for my sisters and the Spiggs, and a stuffed toy for Shinola.
There was only one present I needed that couldn’t be had in a supermarket. And that, of course, was Les’s. I would’ve waited till after Christmas Day, to see if someone gave me some money, but Les was going to Norwich to visit his mum on Christmas Eve, so I couldn’t put it off.
What I wanted to get Les was a gold I.D. bracelet that I saw in the Argos catalogue. I was going to have his initials engraved on the front and Love, Lana on the back. Only now I couldn’t even afford the one in the pawnshop with someone else’s initials on it.
My second choice was a pair of Tazmanian Devil socks I’d seen on Oxford Street. Les loved Taz. He even had a Taz air freshener in his car. It wasn’t a great present, but I reckoned it was a thoughtful one.
It took me a while to work up my courage for this. Shop assistants on Oxford Street were programmed to look out for shoplifters, and you could never completely get out of their view or away from the cameras. Plus, I couldn’t afford to buy anything, not unless they had some socks on sale for fifty pence.
I filled a couple of old Body Shop and Miss Selfridge carrier bags with stuff of mine, you know, so they’d think I really was shopping, but I was counting on Shinola. She was the one who would have to create the distraction.
For once Shinola did what I wanted her to do. The second we walked into the shop she started howling. I leaned over her buggy to comfort her, but she wasn’t having any of it. There were a couple of other customers and two salesgirls in the shop, and they all gave me sympathetic smiles. I tried rocking the buggy, but the shop was so small that I couldn’t help bumping into things. I kept apologizing and trying to calm her down. I became frazzled and distressed. I lifted her out, blankets and all.
“Please, love…” I begged loudly. “We have to find something for your dad.”
Everybody else became frazzled and distressed, too. One of my fellow shoppers fled and the other grabbed a pair of boxers and a scarf and raced to the till. I slipped the socks into Shinola’s quilt and stuck her back in her buggy.
Still projecting, the way they taught us to in drama, I said, “We’ll have to go if you’re going to carry on like this. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
And that was that: a piece of cake. Chocolate with cherries on top.
I turned the buggy round and started towards the door.
“I’ll be back,” I promised the salesgirls.
They smiled and waved and called back “Bye” and “See you later.”
But just as I got to the door my luck changed.
A group of girls, weighed down with about a dozen carrier bags each, charged in. They were giggling insanely over something. I was about to push past them when I realized who they were.
I was astonished. That’s the only word for it: astonished. I mean, how many shops are there in London? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Tens of thousands of shops and twenty-four hours in a day, and at exactly the same time as me, Shanee, Gerri and Amie are overcome by an irresistible desire to buy socks on Oxford Street. There must be a God; this sort of thing couldn’t happen without planning.
“Lana!”
“Lana!”
“Lana!”
Shinola, taking her cue from God, went as quiet as a flower. The little treasure. I could’ve thrown her through the window.
“Shanee! Gerri! Amie!” I shrieked back. “What are you doing here?”
“Christmas shopping,” said Shanee.
“This is the last stop,” said Amie. “I’m shopped out.”
Gerri laughed. “You’re never shopped out till you’re dead.”
“What about you?” asked Shanee. She gave me a smile. “Looking for something for Dad?”
I smiled