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the precious and precocious St Vincent’s after taking almost a whole year off to look after their babies.
    The babies still didn’t sleep every night through, so both parents were operating on a degree of grumpy frazzledness at all times. Still, she wasn’t sure if that entirely excused him from calling her a ‘hare-brained lunatic’.
    ‘But Annie, you’re supposed to be here,’ he’d said last night. ‘You are supposed to be right here, on standby in case your agent or producer calls with news about a new deal. For all we know, that could happen any day.’
    In sheer stress, he managed to drop the salad bowl, breaking it into four jagged pieces and splattering the table, the wall and floor with green leaves, oil and vinegar.
    The great big, guilt-inducing ‘what about the children?’ question came next.
    ‘I was only planning to go for three weeks, four at the most,’ she insisted. But at that, he’d landed a big juicy baby in her arms, making her feel like a guilty traitor for even saying the words.
    ‘Lots of mummies have to travel for work. It’s not the worst thing I could do.’ She’d run her traitor’s hand over Minnie’s soft as a kitten curls.
    ‘Maybe there won’t be another TV job for me, Ed. Have you thought about that? Maybe I’ll have to hope that I can go into business with Svetlana and Elena,’ she told him as he picked salad from the wall.
    ‘Of course I’ve thought about that!’ he replied. ‘I usually think about that in a cold sweat in the middle of the night when I’m also thinking about our vast mortgage, the twins’ future school fees, Lana’s next phase of education, your credit card bills and all the other expenses in my life.’
    ‘You’re the one who just took a year off,’ she’d snapped back, regretting immediately how nasty it sounded. ‘Don’t think I’m not intending to earn just as soon as I possibly can.’
    ‘Will they pay you for this New York trip?’
    ‘Flights yes, and there’s somewhere to stay.’
    ‘No, Annie,’ Ed had insisted, shaking his head. ‘No I really think this is crazy. In another week or so, Tamsin will have sold How Not To Shop to another channel and you’ll forget all about this. You loved that job! You’re forgetting how much you loved that job, Annie.’
    ‘But what about Lana?’ It was her last attempt. ‘She thought it was an amazing idea. She couldn’t wait to get on the plane. I have four children, not just the twins. I have to think about Lana too.’
    But Ed had shaken his head emphatically. For the time being, the discussion was over.
    The tube train braked hard for Knightsbridge station, bumping Annie’s cheekbone against the glass. She made her way off and hurried through the station until she was standing in the beating heart of London’s swankiest shopping district.
    Annie was supposed to be here to preview The Store’s Autumn/Winter collection for a featurette on her TV programme. She just hadn’t had the heart to phone up and cancel. The Store staff were her most loyal fans and she couldn’t bear to tell them in a bald phone call that the show had been cancelled. The least she could do was go in person … and maybe also just take a little look at some of the new things. Not that she was buying, obviously. But she could never, ever resist a peek.
    As she clipped along the pavement in her platform-heeled, morale-boosting shoes, she looked up at the glittering windows of The Store now straight ahead of her.
    The Store was a department store dedicated to fashion. Every important label, every major designer, every item needed, wanted, longed for and lusted after could be found at The Store. Well, if it was that hot, it would probably have sold out, but not to worry, once inside the shiny doors, you’d be certain to find something else to take its place in your heart.
    To most Londoners, The Store was a chilly and intimidating place, full of four-figure price tags and ultra snooty staff. But for Annie,