Confessions of A Shopaholic

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. Not everyone does. I adore Wagner, I insist. He s my favorite composer. OK, quick what did that book say? I lovethe.er.sonorous melodic strands which interweave in the Prelude. The Prelude to what? says Tarquin interestedly.Oh shit.Is there more than one Prelude? I take a gulp of champagne, playing for time, desperately tryingto recall some-thing else from the book.But the only other bit I can remember is Richard Wagner wasborn in Leipzig. All the Preludes, I say at last. I think they re all.fab. Right, says Tarquin, looking a bit surprised.Oh God.That wasn t the right thing to say, was it? Change the subject.Change the subject.Luckily, at that moment, a waiter arrives with our garlic bread, and we can get off the subject ofWagner.And Tarquin orders some more champagne.Somehow, I think we re going to need it.Which means that by the time I m halfway through my Fiorentina, I ve drunk almost an entire bottle ofchampagne and I m.Well, frankly, I m completely pissed.My face is tingling and my eyes aresparkling, and my arm gestures are a lot more erratic than usual.But this doesn t matter.In fact, beingpissed is a good thing because it means I m also delightfully witty and lively and am more-or-lesscarrying the conversation single-handedly.Tarquin is also pissed, but not as much as me.He s got quieterPage 139Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmland quieter, and kind of thoughtful.And he keeps gazing at me.As I finish my last scraps of pizza and lean back pleasurably he stares at me silently for a moment, thenreaches into his pocket and produces a little box. Here, he says. This is for you.I have to admit, for one heart-stopping moment I think, This is it! He s proposing!But of course, he s not proposing, is he? He s just giving me a little present.I knew that.So I open it, and find a leather box, and inside is a little gold brooch in the shape of a horse.Lots of finedetail; beautifully crafted.A little green stone (emerald?) for the eye.Reallynot my kind of thing. It s gorgeous, I breathe in awe. Absolutely.stunning. It s rather jolly, isn t it? says Tarquin. Thought you d like it. I adore it. I turn it over in my fingers then look up at him and blink a couple of times with misty eyes.God, I m drunk.I think I m actually seeing through champagne. This is so thought-ful of you, I murmur.Plus, I don t really wear brooches.I mean, where are you supposed to put them? Slap bang in themiddle of a really nice top? I mean, come on.And they always leave great brooch-holes everywhere. It ll look lovely on you, says Tarquin after a pause and suddenly I realize he s expecting me to put iton.Aaargh! It ll ruin my lovely Whistles dress! And who wants a horse galloping across their tits, anyway! I must put it on, I say, and open the clasp.Gingerly, I thread it through the fabric of my dress andclasp it shut, already feeling it pull the dress out of shape. It looks wonderful, says Tarquin, meeting my gaze. But then.you always look wonderful.I feel a dart of apprehension as I see him leaning forward.He s going to try and hold my hand again,isn t he? And probably kiss me.I glance at Tarquin s lips parted and slightly moist and give aninvoluntary shudder.Oh God.I m not quite ready for this.I mean, obviously I do want to kiss Tarquin,of course I do.In fact, I find him incredibly attractive.It s just.I think I need some more champagnefirst. That scarf you were wearing the other night, says Tarquin. It was simply stunning.I looked at you inthat, and I thought.Now I can see his hand edging toward mine. My Denny and George scarf! I cut in brightly, before he can say anything else. Yes, that s lovely, isn tit? It was my aunt s, but she died.It was really sad, actually.Page 140Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlJust keep talking, I think.Keep talking brightly and gesture a lot. But anyway, she left me her scarf, I continue hurriedly. So I ll always remember her through that.Poor Aunt Ermintrude. I m really sorry, says Tarquin, looking taken aback. I had no idea. No.Well.her memory lives on through her good works, I say, and give him a little smile. She wasa very charitable woman.Very.giving. Is there some sort of foundation in her name? says Tarquin. When my uncle died Yes! I say gratefully. Exactly that.The.the Ermintrude Bloomwood Foundation for.violinists,I improvise, catchingsight of a poster for a musical evening. Violinists in Mozambique.That was hercause. Violinists in Mozambique? echoes Tarquin. Oh, absolutely! I hear myself babbling. There s a desperate shortage of classical musicians out there.And culture is so enrich-ing, whatever one s material circumstances.I can t believe I m coming out with all this rubbish.I glance apprehensively up at Tarquin and to mycomplete disbelief, he looks really interested. So, what exactly is the foundation aiming to do? he asks.What am I getting myself into here? To.to fund six violin teachers a year, I say after a pause. Of course, they need specialist training,and special violins to take out there.But the results will be very worthwhile.They re going to teachpeople how to make violins, too, so they ll be self-sufficient and not dependent on the West. Really? Tarquin s brow is furrowed.Have I said something that doesn t make sense? Anyway, I give a little laugh. That s enough about me and my family.Have you seen any good filmsrecently?This is good.We can talk about films, and then the bill will come, and then. Wait a moment, says Tarquin. Tell me how s the project going so far? Oh, I say. Ahm.quite well.Considering.I haven t really kept up with its progress recently.Youknow, these things are always I d really like to contribute something, he says, interrupt-ing me.What?He d like to what ?Page 141Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Do you know who I should make the check payable to? he says, reaching into his jacket pocket. Is itthe Bloomwood Foundation?And as I watch, paralyzed in astonishment, he brings out a Coutts checkbook.A pale gray Coutts checkbook.The fifteenth richest man in the country. I m.I m not sure, I hear myself say, as though from a great distance. I m not sure of the exactwording. Well, I ll make it payable to you, then, shall I? he says. And you can pass it on. Briskly he starts towrite.Pay Rebecca Bloomwood.The sum of.Five.Five hundred pounds.It must be.He wouldn t just give five miserable.Thousand pounds.T.A.] [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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