‘Very well.’ Mum glares at Dad. ‘From now on, I’ll only shop at the pound shop. Will that make you happy, Graham?’
‘Me too!’ I say supportively
I’ve never actually been to a pound shop, but they’ve got to be good. I mean, everything only costs a quid, for a start.
‘My darling, we’re not quite that penurious.’ Luke kisses me on the forehead. ‘The easiest way we could save money, if you ask me, would be if you wore some of your clothes more than once.’
Not this again.
‘I do wear them more than once,’ I say crossly. ‘You always exaggerate—’
‘How often have you worn that cardigan with the red button?’ he asks innocently.
‘It’s … I’ve …’ I stop, a bit stymied.
Damn. Why haven’t I worn it? I don’t even know where it is. Did I leave it somewhere?
‘A hundred times, wasn’t it?’ Luke looks as though he’s enjoying this. ‘Isn’t that what you said?’
‘I’m intending to wear it a hundred times,’ I say stonily. ‘I didn’t specify exactly when.’
‘How many clothes have you got, anyway, stashed away in your cupboards?’
‘I … er …’
‘Do you have any idea?’
‘Too many,’ snorts Dad. ‘Are we going to count the boots cluttering up my garage?’
‘Any idea at all?’ persists Luke.
‘I don’t … It’s not …’ I trail off in confusion.
What kind of question is that, anyway, ‘How many clothes have you got?’ It’s totally unreasonable.
‘How many clothes have you got?’ I retort, and Luke thinks for about one micro-second.
‘Nine suits, some too old to wear now. Around thirty shirts. Fifty or so ties. I should cull some. Evening wear. I don’t need to shop for another year, except for socks.’ He shrugs again. ‘And I won’t. Not in the current climate. I don’t think it would send the right signals to turn up to work in a new bespoke suit.’
Trust Luke to have an answer.
‘Well, you’re a man. It’s different. I work in fashion, remember?’
‘I know,’ he says mildly. ‘My only point is that if you wore each of your clothes, say, three times, before buying anything new, your clothes bill might go down.’ He shrugs. ‘You said you wanted ideas to save money.’
I didn’t want those kind of ideas. I wanted ideas involving things I’m not interested in, like petrol or insurance. But now I’m a bit stuffed.
‘Fine!’ I fold my arms. ‘I’ll wear every single item in my wardrobe three times before I even think of going shopping again. Satisfied?’
‘Yes.’ He flashes me a smile. ‘And I’m giving up my car plans. Just for now.’
‘Really?’
‘Like I say. It’s not the moment.’
Now I feel a bit humbled. Luke was planning to get a new car as a celebration as soon as the Arcodas case was over. It was, like, the prize. We’d gone for a test drive in one, and everything.
Well, I suppose if he can do that, I can wear my clothes three times before I go shopping again. It’s not such a hardship.
Anyway, I probably haven’t got that many. I try to visualize my wardrobe. I mean, it’s just a few tops and jeans and dresses, isn’t it? And a few things crammed in at the back. I’ll get through them all in a couple of weeks.
‘We’ll still be able to buy clothes for Minnie, won’t we?’ I look up in sudden alarm. ‘And she can still have her pocket money?’
I’ve got quite used to Minnie having pocket money when we’re out and about. She spent another six months’ advance in the Bambino sale and got the most gorgeous half-price sparkly wellingtons. Plus it’s teaching her financial planning, because I’ve got it all written down in a book.
‘Of course Minnie can have her pocket money!’ Luke laughs. ‘And if she needs new clothes, she needs them. She’s a growing girl.’
‘Fine,’ I say, trying not to feel envious.
It’s all right for children. I wish I grew out of all my stuff every three months and had to replace it all.
‘Anyway, Becky, I thought the Bloomwood style was Make More Money.’ Luke breaks into my thoughts. He pulls out a chair and pours himself a glass of wine. ‘Maybe you could go back to work full-time, now we’re getting a nanny.’
Aargh! No! It’s as though he’s fired a shot into the air with no warning; in fact I feel myself physically recoil. Why did he have to mention the word ‘nanny’, just like that with no preamble? I was going to soften Mum up first, maybe via general chit-chat about au pairs.