Read Shopaholic Ties the Knot for Free Online Page A

been anywhere exciting? Why haven’t I been trekking round Mongolia?
    I was going to go to Thailand once, come to think of it. But then I decided to go to France instead and spend the money I saved on a Lulu Guinness handbag.
    “I haven’t really traveled much at all,” I admit reluctantly.
    “Well, you must, dear girl!” booms Caroline. “You must broaden your horizons. Learn about life from real people. One of the dearest friends I have in the world is a Bolivian peasant woman. We ground maize together on the plains of the Llanos.”
    “Wow.”
    A little clock on the mantelpiece chimes the half hour, and I suddenly realize we’re not getting anywhere.
    “So anyway . . . did you have any ideas for a wedding outfit?”
    “Something warm and colorful,” says Caroline, reaching for a thick red and yellow poncho.
    “Erm . . . I’m not so sure that would be entirely appropriate . . .” I push between the jackets and dresses, and suddenly see a flash of apricot silk. “Ooh! This is nice.” I haul it out—and I don’t believe it. It’s Balenciaga.
    “My going-away outfit,” says Caroline reminiscently. “We traveled on the Orient Express to Venice, then explored the caves of Postojna. Do you know that region?”
    “You have to wear this!” I say, my voice rising to a squeak of excitement. “You’ll look spectacular. And it’s so romantic, wearing your own going-away outfit!”
    “I suppose it might be rather fun.” She holds it up against herself with red, weatherbeaten hands that make me wince every time I look at them. “That should still fit, shouldn’t it? Now, there must be a hat around here somewhere . . .” She puts down the suit and starts rooting around on a shelf.
    “So—you must be really happy for Suze,” I say, picking up an enameled hand mirror and examining it.
    “Tarquin’s a dear boy.” She turns round and taps her beaky nose confidentially. “Very well endowed.”
    This is true. Tarquin is the fifteenth richest person in the country, or something. But I’m a bit surprised at Suze’s mother bringing it up.
    “Well, yes . . .” I say. “Although I don’t suppose Suze really needs the money . . .”
    “I’m not talking about money!” She gives me a knowing smile and suddenly I realize what she means.
    “Oh!” I feel myself blushing furiously. “Right! I see!”
    “All the Cleath-Stuart men are the same. They’re famous for it. Never a divorce in the family,” she adds, plonking a green felt hat on top of her head.
    Gosh. I’m going to look at Tarquin a bit differently now.
     
     
    It takes me a while to persuade Caroline out of the green felt hat and into a chic black cloche. As I’m walking back along the corridor toward Suze’s room, I hear some familiar voices in the hall downstairs.
    “It’s common knowledge. Foot-and-mouth was caused by carrier pigeons.”
    “Pigeons? You’re telling me that this huge epidemic, which has wiped out stocks of cattle across Europe, was caused by a few harmless pigeons?”
    “Harmless? Graham, they’re vermin!”
    Mum and Dad! I hurry to the banisters—and there they are, standing by the fireplace. Dad’s in morning dress with a top hat under his arm, and Mum’s dressed in a navy jacket, floral skirt, and bright red shoes, which don’t quite match her red hat.
    “Mum?”
    “Becky!”
    “Mum! Dad!” I hurry down the stairs and envelop them both in a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of Yardley’s talc and Tweed.
    This trip is getting more emotional by the minute. I haven’t seen my parents since they came out to visit me in New York four months ago. And even then, they only stayed for three days before going off to Florida to see the Everglades.
    “Mum, you look amazing! Have you done something to your hair?”
    “Maureen put some highlights in,” she says, looking pleased. “And I popped next door to Janice this morning, so she could do my face. You know, she’s taken a course in professional makeup.