I WALK THROUGH THE DOOR of our flat to see Suze, my flatmate, sitting in one of her strange yoga positions, with her eyes closed. Her fair hair is scrunched up in a knot, and she’s wearing black leggings together with the ancient T-shirt she al-ways wears for yoga. It’s the one her dad was wearing when he rowed Oxford to victory, and she says it gives her good vibes.
For a moment I’m silent. I don’t want to disturb her in case yoga is like sleepwalking and you’re not meant to wake people when they’re doing it. But then Suze opens her eyes and looks up—and the first thing she says is “Denny and George! Becky, you’re not serious.”
“Yes,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. “I bought myself a scarf.”
“Show me!” says Suze, unwinding herself from the floor. “Show-me-show-me-show-me!” She comes over and starts tug-ging at the strings of the carrier, like a kid. “I want to see your new scarf! Show me!”
This is why I love sharing a flat with Suze. Julia, my old flat-mate, would have wrinkled her brow and said, “Denny and who?” or, “That’s a lot of money for a scarf.” But Suze completely and utterly understands. If anything, she’s worse than me.
But then, she can afford to be. Although she’s twenty-five, like me, her parents still give her pocket money. It’s called an “allowance” and apparently comes from some family trust—but as far as I can see, it’s pocket money. Her parents also bought her a flat in Fulham as a twenty-first birthday present and she’s been living in it ever since, half working and half dossing about.
She was in PR for a (very) short while, and that’s when I met her, on a press trip to an offshore bank on Guernsey. As a matter of fact, she was working for Brandon Communications. Without being rude—she admits it herself—she was the worst PR girl I’ve ever come across. She completely forgot which bank she was sup-posed to be promoting, and started talking enthusiastically about one of their competitors. The man from the bank looked crosser and crosser, while all the journalists pissed themselves laughing. Suze got in big trouble over that. In fact, that’s when she decided PR wasn’t the career for her. (The other way of putting it is that Luke Brandon gave her the sack as soon as they got back to Lon-don. Another reason not to like him.)
But the two of us had a whale of a time sloshing back wine until the early hours. Actually, Suze had a secret little weep at about two A.M. and said she was hopeless at every job she’d tried and what was she going to do? I said I thought she wasfar too interesting and creative to be one of those snooty Brandon C girls. Which I wasn’t just saying to be nice, it’s completely true. I gave her a big hug and she cried some more, then we both cheered up and ordered another bottle of wine, and tried on all each other’s clothes. I lent Suze my belt with the square silver buckle, which, come to think of it, she’s never given back. And we kept in touch ever since.
Then, when Julia suddenly upped and ran off with the pro-fessor supervising her Ph.D. (she was a dark horse, that one), Suze suggested I move in with her. I’m sure the rent she charges is too low, but I’ve never insisted I pay the full market rate, because I couldn’t afford it. As market rates go, I’m nearer Elephant andCastle than Fulham on my salary. How can normal people afford to live in such hideously expensive places?
“Bex, open it up!” Suze is begging. “Let me see!” She’s grab-bing inside the bag with eager long fingers, and I pull it away quickly before she rips it. This bag is going on the back of my door along with my other prestige carrier bags, to be used in a casual manner when I need to impress. (Thank God they didn’t print special “Sale” bags. Ihate shops that do that. What’s the point of having a posh bag with “Sale” splashed all over it?)
Very slowly, I take the dark green box out of the bag, remove the lid, and unfold the tissue paper. Then, almost reverentially, I lift up the scarf. It’s beautiful. It’s even more beautiful here than it was in the shop. I drape it around my neck and grin stupidly at Suze.
“Oh, Bex,” she murmurs. “It’s gorgeous!”
For a moment we are both silent. It’s as though we’re com-muning with a higher being. The god of shopping.
Then Suze has to go and ruin it all.
“You can wear it to see James this weekend,” she says.
“I can’t,” I say almost crossly, taking it off again. “I’m not see-ing him.”
“How come?”
“I’m not seeing him anymore.” I try to give a nonchalant shrug.
“Really?” Suze’s eyes widen. “Why not? You didn’t tell me!”
“I know.” I look away from her eager gaze. “It’s a bit. . . awk-ward.”
“Did you chuck him? You hadn’t even shagged him!” Suze’s voice is rising in excitement. She’s desperate to know. But am I desperate to tell? For a moment I consider being discreet. Then I think, oh, what the hell?
“I know,” I say. “That was the problem.”
“What do you mean?” Suze leans forward. “Bex, what are you talking about?”
I take a deep breath and turn to face her.
“He didn’t want to.”
“Didn’t fancy you?”
“No. He—” I close my eyes, barely able to believe this myself. “He doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”
“You’re joking.” I open my eyes to see Suze looking at me in horror—as if she’s just heard the worst profanity known to man-kind. “You are joking, Becky.” She’s actually pleading with me.
“I’m not.” I manage a weak smile. “It was a bit embarrassing, actually. I kind of. . . pounced on him, and he had to fight me off.”
The cringingly awful memory which I had successfully sup-pressed starts to resurface. I’d met James at a party a few weeks back, and this was the crucial third date. We’d been out for a really nice meal, which he’d insisted on paying for, and had gone back to his place, and had ended up kissing on the sofa.
Well, what was Isupposed to think? There he was, there I was—and make no mistake, if his mind was saying no, his body was certainly saying yes, yes, yes. So, being a modern girl, I reached for his trouser zip and began to pull it down. When he reached down and brushed me aside I thought he was playing games, and carried on, even more enthusiastically.
Thinking back, perhaps it took me longer than it should have to guess that he wasn’t playing ball, so to speak. In fact, he actu-ally had to punch me in the face to get me off him—although he was very apologetic about it afterward.
Suze is gazing at me incredulously. Then she breaks into gur-gles of laughter.
“He had to fight you off? Bex, you man-eater!”
“Don’t!” I protest, half laughing, half embarrassed. “He was really sweet about it. He asked, was I prepared to wait for him?”
“And you said, not bloody likely!”
“Sort of.” I look away.
In fact, carried away with the moment, I seem to remember issuing him a bit of a challenge. “Resist me now if you can, James,” I recall saying in a husky voice, gazing at him with what Ithought were limpid, sexual eyes. “But you’ll be knocking at my door within the week.”
Well, it’s been over a week now, and I haven’t heard a peep. Which, if you think about it, is pretty unflattering.
“But that’s hideous!” Suze is saying. “What about sexual com-patibility?”
“Dunno.” I shrug. “I guess he’s willing to take that gamble.”
Suze gives a sudden giggle. “Did you get a look at his . . .”
“No! He wouldn’t let me near it!”
“But could you feel it? Was it tiny?” Suze’s eyes gleam wickedly. “I bet it’s teeny. He’s hoping to kid some poor girl into marrying him and being stuck with a teeny todger all her life. Narrow escape, Bex!” She reaches for her packet of Silk Cut and lights up.
“Stay away!” I say. “I don’t want my scarf smelling of smoke!”
“So whatare you doing this weekend?” she asks, taking a drag. “Will you be OK? Do you want to come down to the country?”
This is how Suze always refers to her family’s second home in Hampshire.The Country. As though her parents own some small, independent nation that nobody else knows about.
“No, ‘s’OK,” I say, morosely picking up the TV guide. “I’m going to Surrey. Visit my parents.”
“Oh well,” says Suze. “Give your mum my love.”
“I will,” I say. “And you give my love to Pepper.”
Pepper is Suze’s horse. She rides him about three times a year, if that, but whenever her parents suggest selling him she gets all hysterical. Apparently he costs ￡15,000 a year to run. Fif-teen thousand pounds. And what does he do for his money? Just stands in a stable and eats apples. I wouldn’t mind being a horse.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” says Suze. “The council tax bill came in. It’s three hundred each.”
“Three hundred pounds?” I look at her in dismay. “What, straight away?”
“Yeah. Actually, it’s late. Just write me a check or something.”
“Fine,” I say airily. “Three hundred quid coming up.”
I reach for my bag and write a check out straight away. Suze is so generous about the rent, I always pay my share of the bills, and sometimes add a bit extra. But still, I’m feeling cold as I hand it over. Three hundred pounds gone, just like that. And I’ve still got that bloody VISA bill to think of. Not a great month.
“Oh, and someone called,” adds Suze, and squints at a piece of paper. “Erica Parsnip. Is that right?”
“EricaParsnip ?” Sometimes I think Suze’s mind has been expanded just a little too often.
“Parnell. Erica Parnell from Endwich Bank. Can you call her.”
I stare at Suze, frozen in horror.
“She called here? She called this number?”
“Yes. This afternoon.”
“Oh shit.” My heart starts to thump. “What did you say? Did you say I’ve got glandular fever?”
“What?” It’s Suze’s turn to stare. “Of course I didn’t say you’ve got bloody glandular fever!”
“Did she ask about my leg? Anything about my health at all?”
“No! She just said where were you? And I said you were at work—”
“Suze!” I wail in dismay.
“Well, what was Isupposed to say?”
“You were supposed to say I was in bed with glandular fever and a broken leg!”
“Well, thanks for the warning!” Suze gazes at me, eyes nar-rowed, and crosses her legs back into the lotus position. Suze has got the longest, thinnest, wiriest legs I’ve ever known. When she’s wearing black leggings she looks just like a spider. “What’s the big deal, anyway?” she says. “Are you overdrawn?”
Am I overdrawn?
I smile back as reassuringly as I can. If Suze had any ideaof my real situation, she’d need more than yoga to calm her down.
“Just a tad.” I give a careless shrug. “But I’m sure it’ll work itself out. No need to worry!”
There’s silence, and I look up to see Suze tearing up my check. For a moment I’m completely silenced, then I stutter, “Suze! Don’t be stupid!”
“Pay me back when you’re in the black,” she says firmly.
“Thanks, Suze,” I say in a suddenly thickened voice—and as I give her a big hug I can feel tears jumping into my eyes. Suze has got to be the best friend I’ve ever had.
But there’s a tense feeling in my stomach, which stays with me all evening and is still there when I wake up the next morn-ing. A feeling I can’t even shift by thinking about my Denny and George scarf. I lie in bed staring up at the ceiling and, for the first time in months, calculate how much I owe to everybody. The bank, VISA, my Harvey Nichols card, my Debenhams card, my Fenwicks card . . . And now Suze, too.
It’s about. . . let’s think . . . it’s about ￡6,000.
A cold feeling creeps over me as I contemplate this figure. How on earth am I going to find ￡6,000? I could save ￡6 a week for a thousand weeks. Or ￡12 a week for five hundred weeks. Or . . . or ￡60 a week for a hundred weeks. That’s more like it. But how the hell am I going to find ￡60 a week?
Or I could bone up on lots of general knowledge and go on a game show. Or invent something really clever. Or I could . . . win the lottery. At the thought, a lovely warm glow creeps over me, and I close my eyes and snuggle back down into bed. The lottery is by far the best solution.
I wouldn’t aim to win the jackpot of course—that’scompletely unlikely. But one of those minor prizes. There seem to be heaps of those going around. Say, ￡100,000. That would do. I could pay off all my debts, buy a car, buy a flat . . .
Actually, better make it ￡200,000. Or a quarter of a million.
Or, even better, one of those shared jackpots. “The five win-ners will each receive ￡1.3 million.” (I love the way they say that: “One point three.” As if that extra ￡300,000 is a tiny, insignifi-cant amount. As if you wouldn’t notice whether it was there or not.)
One point three million should see me straight. And it’s not being greedy, is it, to want to share your jackpot? Please, God, I think, let me win the lottery and I promise to share nicely.
And so, on the way down to my parents’ house I stop off at a petrol station to buy a couple of lottery tickets. Choosing the numbers takes about half an hour. I know 44 always does well, and 42. But what about the rest? I write out a few series of num-bers on a piece of paper and squint at them, trying to imagine them on the telly.
1 6 9 16 23 44
No! Terrible! What am I thinking of? One never comes up, for a start. And 6 and 9 look wrong, too.
3 14 21 25 36 44
That’s a bit better. I fill in the numbers on the ticket.
5 11 18 27 28 42
I’m quite impressed by this one. It looks like a winner. I can just imagine Moira Stewart reading it out on the news. “One ticket-holder, believed to live in southwest London, has won an estimated jackpot of ￡10 million.”
For a moment, I feel faint. What’ll I do with ￡10 million? Where will I start?
Well, a huge party to begin with. Somewhere smart but cool, with loads of champagne and dancing and a taxi service so no one has to drive. And going-home presents, like really nice bub-ble bath or something. (Does Calvin Klein do bubble bath?)
Then I’ll buy houses for all my family and friends, of course. I lean against the lottery stand and close my eyes to concen-trate. Suppose I buy twenty houses at ￡250,000 each. That’ll leave me . . . 5 million. Plus about ￡50,000 on the party.
So that’s ￡4,950,000. Oh, and I need ￡6,000 to pay off all my credit cards and overdraft. Plus ￡300 for Suze. Call it ￡7,000. So that leaves . . . ￡4,943,000.
Obviously, I’ll do loads for charity. In fact, I’ll probably set up a charitable foundation. I’ll support all those unfashionable chari-ties that get ignored, like skin diseases and home helps for the elderly. And I’ll send a great big check to my old English teacher, Mrs. James, so she can restock the school library. Perhaps they’ll even rename it after me. The Bloomwood Library.
Oh, and ￡300 for that swirly coat in Whistles, which I must buy before they’re all snapped up. So how much does that leave? Four million, nine hundred and forty-three thousand, minus—
“Excuse me.” A voice interrupts me and I look up dazedly. The woman behind is trying to get at the pen.
“Sorry,” I say, and politely make way. But the interruption has made me lose track of my calculations. Was it 4 million or 5 mil-lion?
Then, as I see the woman looking at my bit of paper covered in scribbled numbers, an awful thought strikes me. What if one of my rejected sets of numbers actually comes up? What if1 6 9 16 23 44 comes up tonight and I haven’t entered it? All my life, I’d never forgive myself.
I quickly fill in tickets for all the combinations of num-bers written on my bit of paper. That’s nine tickets in all. Nine quid—quite a lot of money, really. I almost feel bad aboutspending it. But then, that’s nine times as many chances of win-ning, isn’t it?
And I now have a very good feeling about1 6 9 16 23 44 . Why has that particular set of numbers leapt into my mind and stayed there? Maybe someone, somewhere, is trying to tell me something.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Chapter 2
THERE’S JUST ONE essential purchase I have to make on the way to the press conference—and that’s theFinancial Times. TheFT is by far the best accessory a girl can have. Its major advantages are:
It’s a nice color.
It only costs eighty-five pence.
If you walk into a room with it tucked under your arm, people take you seriously. With anFT under your arm, you can talk about the most frivolous things in the world, and instead of thinking you’re an airhead, people think you’re a heavyweight intellectual who has broader interests, too.
At my interview forSuccessful Saving , I went in holding copies of theFinancial Times and theInvestor’s Chronicle —and I didn’t get asked about finance once. As I remember it, we spent the whole time talking about holiday villas and gossiping about other edi-tors.
So I stop at a newsstand and buy a copy of theFT . There’s some huge headline about Rutland Bank on the front page, andI’m thinking maybe I should at least skim it, when I catch my reflection in the window of Denny and George.
I don’t look bad, I think. I’m wearing my black skirt from French Connection, and a plain white T-shirt from Knickerbox, and a little angora cardigan which I got from M&S but looks like it might be Agnès b. And my new square-toed shoes from Hobbs. Even better, although no one can see them, I know that under-neath I’m wearing my gorgeous new matching knickers and bra with embroidered yellow rosebuds. They’re the best bit of my en-tire outfit. In fact, I almost wish I could be run over so that the world would see them.
It’s a habit of mine, itemizing all the clothes I’m wearing, as though for a fashion page. I’ve been doing it for years—ever since I used to readJust Seventeen. Everyissue, they’d stop a girl on the street, take a picture of her, and list all her clothes. “T-Shirt: Chelsea Girl, Jeans: Top Shop, Shoes: borrowed from friend.” I used to read those lists avidly, and to this day, if I buy something from a shop that’s a bit uncool, I cut the label out. So that if I’m ever stopped in the street, I can pretend I don’t know where it’s from.
So anyway. There I am, with theFT tucked under my arm, thinking I look pretty good, and half wishing someone fromJust Seventeen would pop up with a camera—when suddenly my eyes focus and snap to attention, and my heart stops. In the window of Denny and George is a discreet sign. It’s dark green with cream lettering, and it says: SALE.
I stare at it, and my skin’s all prickly. It can’t be true. Denny and George can’t be having a sale. They never have a sale. Their scarves and pashminas are so coveted, they could probably sell them at twice the price. Everyone I know in the entire world aspires to owning a Denny and George scarf. (Except my mum and dad, obviously. My mum thinks if you can’t buy it at Bentalls of Kingston, you don’t need it.)
I swallow, take a couple of steps forward, then push open thedoor of the tiny shop. The door pings, and the nice blond girl who works there looks up. I don’t know her name but I’ve always liked her. Unlike some snotty cows in clothes shops, she doesn’t mind if you stand for ages staring at clothes you really can’t afford to buy. Usually what happens is, I spend half an hour lusting after scarves in Denny and George, then go off to Accessorize and buy something to cheer myself up. I’ve got a whole drawerful of Denny and George substitutes.
“Hi,” I say, trying to stay calm. “You’re . . . you’re having a sale.”
“Yes.” The blond girl smiles. “Bit unusual for us.”
My eyes sweep the room. I can see rows of scarves, neatly folded, with dark green “50 percent off” signs above them. Printed velvet, beaded silk, embroidered cashmere, all with the distinc-tive “Denny and George” signature. They’re everywhere. I don’t know where to start. I think I’m having a panic attack.
“You always liked this one, I think,” says the nice blond girl, taking out a shimmering gray-blue scarf from the pile in front of her.
Oh God, yes. I remember this one. It’s made of silky velvet, overprinted in a paler blue and dotted with iridescent beads. As I stare at it, I can feel little invisible strings, silently tugging me toward it. I have to touch it. I have to wear it. It’s the most beauti-ful thing I’ve ever seen. The girl looks at the label. “Reduced from ￡340 to ￡120.” She comes and drapes the scarf around my neck and I gape at my reflection.
There is no question. I have to have this scarf. Ihave to have it. It makes my eyes look bigger, it makes my haircut look more expensive, it makes me look like a different person. I’ll be able to wear it with everything. People will refer to me as the Girl in the Denny and George Scarf.
“I’d snap it up if I were you.” The girl smiles at me. “There’s only one of these left.”
Involuntarily, I clutch at it.
“I’ll have it,” I gasp. “I’ll have it.”
As she’s laying it out on tissue paper, I take out my purse, open it up, and reach for my VISA card in one seamless, auto-matic action—but my fingers hit bare leather. I stop in surprise and start to rummage through all the pockets of my purse, won-dering if I stuffed my card back in somewhere with a receipt or if it’s hidden underneath a business card . . . And then, with a sick-ening thud, I remember. It’s on my desk.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have left my VISA card on my desk? What was Ithinking ?
The nice blond girl is putting the wrapped scarf into a dark green Denny and George box. My mouth is dry with panic. What am I going to do?
“How would you like to pay?” she says pleasantly.
My face flames red and I swallow hard.
“I’ve just realized I’ve left my credit card at the office,” I stutter.
“Oh,” says the girl, and her hands pause.
“Can you hold it for me?” The girl looks dubious.
“For how long?”
“Until tomorrow?” I say desperately. Oh God. She’s pulling a face. Doesn’t she understand?
“I’m afraid not,” she says. “We’re not supposed to reserve sale stock.”
“Just until later this afternoon, then,” I say quickly. “What time do you close?”
“Six.”
Six! I feel a combination of relief and adrenaline sweeping through me. Challenge, Rebecca. I’ll go to the press conference, leave as soon as I can, then take a taxi back to the office. I’ll grab my VISA card, tell Philip I left my notebook behind, come here, and buy the scarf.
“Can you hold it until then?” I say beseechingly. “Please?Please? ” The girl relents.
“OK. I’ll put it behind the counter.”
“Thanks,” I gasp. I hurry out of the shop and down the roadtoward Brandon Communications. Please let the press conference be short, I pray. Please don’t let the questions go on too long. Please God,please let me have that scarf.
As I arrive at Brandon Communications, I can feel myself begin to relax. I do have three whole hours, after all. And my scarf is safely behind the counter. No one’s going to steal it from me.
There’s a sign up in the foyer saying that the Foreland Exotic Opportunities press conference is happening in the Artemis Suite, and a man in uniform is directing everybody down the corridor. This means it must be quite big. Not television-cameras-CNN-world’s-press-on-tenterhooks big, obviously. But fairly-good-turnout big. A relatively important event in our dull little world.
As I enter the room, there’s already a buzz of people milling around, and waitresses circulating with canapes. The journalists are knocking back the champagne as if they’ve never seen it before; the PR girls are looking supercilious and sipping water. A waiter offers me a glass of champagne and I take two. One for now, one to put under my chair for the boring bits.
In the far corner of the room I can see Elly Granger fromInvestor’s Weekly News. She’s been pinned into a corner by two earnest men in suits and is nodding at them, with a glassy look in her eye. Elly’s great. She’s only been onInvestor’s Weekly News for six months, and already she’s applied for forty-three other jobs. What she really wants to be is a beauty editor on a magazine, and I think she’d be really good at it. Every time I see her, she’s got a new lipstick on—and she always wears really interesting clothes. Like today, she’s wearing an orange chiffony shirt over a pair of white cotton trousers, espadrilles, and a big wooden necklace, the kind I could never wear in a million years.
WhatI really want to be is Fiona Phillips onGMTV I could really see myself, sitting on that sofa, joshing with Eamonn every morning and interviewing lots of soap stars. Sometimes, when we’re very drunk, we make pacts that if we’re not somewheremore exciting in three months, we’ll both leave our jobs. But then the thought of no money—even for a month—is almost more scary than the thought of writing about depository trust compa-nies for the rest of my life.
“Rebecca. Glad you could make it.”
I look up, and almost choke on my champagne. It’s Luke Brandon, head honcho of Brandon Communications, staring straight at me as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Staring straight down at me, I should say. He must be well over six feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes and . . . wow. Isn’t that suit nice? An expensive suit like that almost makes you want to be a man. It’s inky blue with a faint purple stripe, single-breasted, with proper horn buttons. As I run my eyes over it I find myself won-dering if it’s by Oswald Boateng, and whether the jacket’s got a silk lining in some stunning color. If this were someone else, I might ask—but not Luke Brandon, no way.
I’ve only met him a few times, and I’ve always felt slightly uneasy around him. For a start, he’s got such a scary reputation. Everyone talks all the time about what a genius he is, even Philip, my boss. He started Brandon Communications from nothing, and now it’s the biggest financial PR company in London. A few months ago he was listed inThe Mail as one of the cleverest entre-preneurs of his generation. It said his IQ was phenomenally high and he had a photographic memory.
But it’s not just that. It’s that he always seems to have a frown on his face when he’s talking to me. It’ll probably turn out that the famous Luke Brandon is not only a complete genius but he can read minds, too. He knows that when I’m staring up at some boring graph, nodding intelligently, I’m really thinking about a gorgeous black top I saw in Joseph and whether I can afford the trousers as well.
“You know Alicia, don’t you?” Luke is saying, and he gestures to the immaculate blond girl beside him.
I don’t know Alicia, as it happens. But I don’t need to. They’re all the same, the girls at Brandon C, as they call it. They’re welldressed, well spoken, are married to bankers, and have zero sense of humor. Alicia falls into the identikit pattern exactly, with her baby-blue suit, silk Hermes scarf, and matching baby-blue shoes, which I’ve seen in Russell and Bromley, and they cost an abso-lute fortune. (Ibet she’s got the bag as well.) She’s also got a suntan, which must mean she’s just come back from Mauritius or somewhere, and suddenly I feel a bit pale and weedy in com-parison.
“Rebecca,” she says coolly, grasping my hand. “You’re onSuccessful Saving , aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” I say, equally coolly.
“It’s very good of you to come today” says Alicia. “I know you journalists are terribly busy.”
“No problem,” I say. “We like to attend as many press confer-ences as we can. Keep up with industry events.” I feel pleased with my response. I’m almost fooling myself.
Alicia nods seriously, as though everything I say is incredibly important to her.
“So, tell me, Rebecca. What do you think about today’s news?” She gestures to theFT under my arm. “Quite a surprise, didn’t you think?”
Oh God. What’s she talking about?
“It’s certainly interesting,” I say still smiling, playing for time. I glance around the room for a clue, but there’s nothing. What’s she talking about? Have interest rates gone up or something?
“I have to say, I think it’s bad news for the industry,” says Alicia earnestly. “But of course, you must have your own views.”
She’s looking at me, waiting for an answer. I can feel my cheeks flaming bright red. How can I get out of this? After this, I promise myself, I’m going to read the papers every day. I’m never going to be caught out like this again.
“I agree with you,” I say eventually. “I think it’s very bad news.” My voice feels strangled. I take a quick swig of champagne and pray for an earthquake.
“Were you expecting it?” Alicia says. “I know you journalists are always ahead of the game.”
“I . . . I certainly saw it coming,” I say, and I’m pretty sure I sound convincing.
“And now this rumor about Scottish Prime and Flagstaff Life going the same way!” She looks at me intently. “Do you think that’s really on the cards?”
“It’s . . . it’s difficult to say,” I reply, and take a gulp of cham-pagne. What rumor? Why can’t she leave me alone?
Then I make the mistake of glancing up at Luke Brandon. He’s staring at me, his mouth twitching slightly. Oh shit. Heknows I don’t have a clue, doesn’t he?
“Alicia,” he says abruptly, “that’s Maggie Stevens coming in. Could you—”
“Absolutely,” she says, trained like a racehorse, and starts to move smoothly toward the door.
“And Alicia—” adds Luke, and she quickly turns back. “I want to know exactly who fucked up on those figures.”
“Yes,” gulps Alicia, and walks off.
God he’s scary. And now we’re on our own. I think I might quickly run away.
“Well,” I say brightly. “I must just go and . . .”
But Luke Brandon is leaning toward me.
“SBG announced that they’ve taken over Rutland Bank this morning,” he says quietly.
And of course, now that he says it, I remember that front-page headline.
“I know they did,” I reply haughtily. “I read it in theFT .” And before he can say anything else, I walk off, to talk to Elly.
As the press conference is about to start, Elly and I sidle toward the back and grab two seats together. We’re in one of the bigger conference rooms and there must be about a hundredchairs arranged in rows, facing a podium and a large screen. I open my notebook, write “Brandon Communications” at the top of the page, and start doodling swirly flowers down the side. Beside me, Elly’s dialing her telephone horoscope on her mobile phone.
I take a sip of champagne, lean back, and prepare to relax. There’s no point listening at press conferences. The information’s always in the press pack, and you can work out what they were talking about later. In fact, I’m wondering whether anyone would notice if I took out a pot of Hard Candy and did my nails, when suddenly the awful Alicia ducks her head down to mine.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes?” I say lazily.
“Phone call for you. It’s your editor.”
“Philip?” I say stupidly. As though I’ve a whole array of edi-tors to choose from.
“Yes.” She looks at me as though I’m a moron and gestures to a phone on a table at the back. Elly gives me a questioning look and I shrug back. Philip’s never phoned me at a press conference before.
I feel rather excited and important as I walk to the back of the room. Perhaps there’s an emergency at the office. Perhaps he’s scooped an incredible story and wants me to fly to New York to follow up a lead.
“Hello, Philip?” I say into the receiver—then immediately I wish I’d said something thrusting and impressive, like a simple “Yep.”
“Rebecca, listen, sorry to be a bore,” says Philip, “but I’ve got a migraine coming on. I’m going to head off home.”
“Oh,” I say puzzledly.
“And I wondered if you could run a small errand for me.”
An errand? If he wants somebody to buy him Tylenol, he should get a secretary.
“I’m not sure,” I say discouragingly. “I’m a bit tied up here.”
“When you’ve finished there. The Social Security SelectCommittee is releasing its report at five o’clock. Can you go and pick it up? You can go straight to Westminster from your press conference.”
What? I stare at the phone in horror. No, I can’t pick up a bloody report. I need to pick up my VISA card! I need to secure my scarf.
“Can’t Clare go?” I say. “I was going to come back to the office and finish my research on . . .” What am I supposed to be writing about this month? “On mortgages.”
“Clare’s got a briefing in the City. And Westminster’s on your way home to Trendy Fulham, isn’t it?”
Philipalways has to make a joke about me living in Fulham. Just because he lives in Harpenden and thinks anyone who doesn’t live in lovely leafy suburbia is mad.
“You can just hop off the tube,” he’s saying, “pick it up, and hop back on again.”
Oh God. I close my eyes and think quickly. An hour here. Rush back to the office, pick up my VISA card, back to Denny and George, get my scarf, rush to Westminster, pick up the re-port. I should just about make it.
“Fine,” I say. “Leave it to me.”
I sit back down, just as the lights dim and the wordsFar Eastern Opportunities appear on the screen in front of us. There is a colorful series of pictures from Hong Kong, Thailand, and other exotic places, which would usually have me thinking wistfully about going on holiday. But today I can’t relax, or even feel sorry for the new girl fromPortfolio Week, who’s frantically trying to write everything down and will probably ask five questions be-cause she thinks she should. I’m too concerned about my scarf. What if I don’t make it back in time? What if someone puts in a higher offer? The very thought makes me panic.
Then, just as the pictures of Thailand disappear and the bor-ing graphs begin, I have a flash of inspiration. Of course! I’ll paycash for the scarf. No one can argue with cash. I can get ￡100 out on my cash card, so all I need is another ￡20, and the scarf is mine.
I tear a piece of paper out of my notebook, write on it “Can you lend me twenty quid?” and pass it to Elly who’s still sur-reptitiously listening to her mobile phone. I wonder what she’s listening to. It can’t still be her horoscope, surely? She looks down, shakes her head, and writes, “No can do. Bloody machine swallowed my card. Living off luncheon vouchers at moment.”
Damn. I hesitate, then write, “What about credit card? I’ll pay you back, honest. And what are you listening to?”
I pass the page to her and suddenly the lights go up. The presentation has ended and I didn’t hear a word of it. People shift around on their seats and a PR girl starts handing out glossy brochures. Elly finishes her call and grins at me.
“Love life prediction,” she says, tapping in another number. “It’s really accurate stuff.”
“Load of old bullshit, more like.” I shake my head disapprov-ingly. “I can’t believe you go for all that rubbish. Call yourself a financial journalist?”
“No,” says Elly. “Do you?” And we both start to giggle, until some old bag from one of the nationals turns round and gives us an angry glare.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A piercing voice interrupts us and I look up. It’s Alicia, standing up at the front of the room. She’s got very good legs, I note resentfully. “As you can see, the Foreland Exotic Opportunities Savings Plan represents an entirely new ap-proach to investment.” She looks around the room, meets my eye, and smiles coldly.
“Exotic Opportunities,” I whisper scornfully to Elly and point to the leaflet. “Exotic prices, more like. Have you seen how much they’re charging?”
(I always turn to the charges first. Just like I always look at the price tag first.)
Elly rolls her eyes sympathetically, still listening to the phone.
“Foreland Investments are all about adding value,” Alicia is saying in her snooty voice. “Foreland Investments offer you more.”
“They charge more, you lose more,” I say aloud without thinking, and there’s a laugh around the room. God, how embar-rassing. And now Luke Brandon’s lifting his head, too. Quickly I look down and pretend to be writing notes.
Although to be honest, I don’t know why I even pretend to write notes. It’s not as if we ever put anything in the magazine except the puff that comes on the press release. Foreland Invest-ments takes out a whopping double-page spread advertisement every month,and they took Philip on some fantastic research (ha-ha) trip to Thailand last year—so we’re never allowed to say any-thing except how wonderful they are. Like that’s really any help to our readers.
As Alicia carries on speaking, I lean toward Elly.
“So, listen,” I whisper. “Can I borrow your credit card?”
“All used up,” hisses Elly apologetically. “I’m up to my limit. Why do you think I’m living off LVs?”
“But I need money!” I whisper. “I’m desperate! I need twenty quid!”
I’ve spoken more loudly than I intended and Alicia stops speaking.
“Perhaps you should have invested with Foreland Invest-ments, Rebecca,” says Alicia, and another titter goes round the room. A few faces turn round to gawk at me, and I stare back at them lividly. They’re fellow journalists, for God’s sake. They should be on my side. National Union of Journalists solidarity and all that.
Not that I’ve ever actually got round to joining the NUJ. But still.
“What do you need twenty quid for?” says Luke Brandon, from the front of the room.
“I . . . my aunt,” I say defiantly. “She’s in hospital and I wanted to get her a present.”
The room is silent. Then, to my disbelief, Luke Brandon reaches into his pocket, takes out a ￡20 note, and gives it to a guy in the front row of journalists. He hesitates, then passes it back to the row behind. And so it goes on, a twenty-quid note being passed from hand to hand, making its way to me like a fan at a gig being passed over the crowd. As I take hold of it, a round of applause goes round the room and I blush.
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll pay you back, of course.”
“My best wishes to your aunt,” says Luke Brandon.
“Thanks,” I say again. Then I glance at Alicia, and feel a little dart of triumph. She looks utterly deflated.
Toward the end of the question-and-answer session, people begin slipping out to get back to their offices. This is usually when I slip out to go and buy a cappuccino and browse in a few shops. But today I don’t. Today I decide I will stick it out until the last dismal question about tax structures. Then I’ll go up to the front and thank Luke Brandon in person for his kind, if embar-rassing, gesture. And then I’ll go and get my scarf. Yippee!
But to my surprise, after only a few questions, Luke Brandon gets up, whispers something to Alicia, and heads for the door.
“Thanks,” I mutter as he passes my chair, but I’m not sure he even hears me.
The tube stops in a tunnel for no apparent reason. Five min-utes go by, then ten minutes. I can’t believe my bad luck. Normally, of course, I long for the tube to break down—so I’ve got an excuse to stay out of the office for longer. But today I behave like a stressed businessman with an ulcer. I tap my fingers and sigh, and peer out of the window into the blackness.
Part of my brain knows that I’ve got plenty of time to get to Denny and George before it closes. Another part knows that even if I don’t make it, it’s unlikely the blond girl will sell my scarf tosomeone else. But the possibility is there. So until I’ve got that scarf in my hands I won’t be able to relax.
As the train finally gets going again I sink into my seat with a dramatic sigh and look at the pale, silent man on my left. He’s wearing jeans and sneakers, and I notice his shirt is on inside out. Gosh, I think in admiration, did he read the article on decon-structing fashion in last month’sVogue , too? I’m about to ask him—then I take another look at his jeans (really nasty fake 501s) and his sneakers (very new, very white)—and something tells me he didn’t.
“Thank God!” I say instead. “I was getting desperate there.”
“It’s frustrating,” he agrees quietly.
“They just don’t think, do they?” I say. “I mean, some of us have got crucial things we need to be doing. I’m in a terrible hurry!”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry myself,” says the man.
“If that train hadn’t started moving, I don’t know what I would have done.” I shake my head. “You feel so . . . impotent!”
“I know exactly what you mean,” says the man intensely. “They don’t realize that some of us . . .” He gestures toward me. “We aren’t just idly traveling. Itmatters whether we arrive or not.”
“Absolutely!” I say. “Where are you off to?”
“My wife’s in labor,” he says. “Our fourth.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Well . . . Gosh. Congratulations. I hope you—”
“She took an hour and a half last time,” says the man, rubbing his damp forehead. “And I’ve been on this tube for forty minutes already. Still. At least we’re moving now.”
He gives a little shrug, then smiles at me.
“How about you? What’s your urgent business?”
Oh God.
“I . . . ahm . . . I’m going to . . .”
I stop feebly and clear my throat, feeling rather sheepish. Ican’t tell this man that my urgent business consists of picking up a scarf from Denny and George.
I mean, a scarf. It’s not even a suit or a coat, or something worthy like that.
“It’s not that important,” I mumble.
“I don’t believe that,” he says nicely.
Oh, now I feel awful. I glance up—and thank goodness, it’s my stop.
“Good luck,” I say, hastily getting up. “I really hope you get there in time.”
As I walk along the pavement I’m feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have got out my 120 quid and given it to that man for his baby, instead of buying a pointless scarf. I mean, when you think about it, what’s more important? Clothes—or the miracle of new life?
As I ponder this issue, I feel quite deep and philosophical. In fact, I’m so engrossed, I almost walk past my turning. But I look up just in time and turn the corner—and feel a jolt. There’s a girl coming toward me and she’s carrying a Denny and George carrier bag. And suddenly everything is swept from my mind.
Oh my God.
What if she’s got my scarf?
What if she asked for it specially and that assistant sold it to her, thinking I wasn’t going to come back?
My heart starts to beat in panic and I begin to stride along the street toward the shop. As I arrive at the door and push it open, I can barely breathe for fear. What if it’s gone? What will I do?
But the blond girl smiles as I enter.
“Hi!” she says. “It’s waiting for you.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say in relief and subside weakly against the counter.
I honestly feel as though I’ve run an obstacle course to get here. In fact, I think, they should list shopping as a cardiovascular activity. My heart never beats as fast as it does when I see a “reduced by 50 percent” sign.
I count out the money in tens and twenties and wait, almost shivering as she ducks behind the counter and produces the green box. She slides it into a thick glossy bag with dark green cord handles and hands it to me, and I almost want to cry out loud, the moment is so wonderful.
That moment. That instant when your fingers curl round the handles of a shiny, uncreased bag—and all the gorgeous new things inside it become yours. What’s it like? It’s like going hun-gry for days, then cramming your mouth full of warm buttered toast. It’s like waking up and realizing it’s the weekend. It’s like the better moments of sex. Everything else is blocked out of your mind. It’s pure, selfish pleasure.
I walk slowly out of the shop, still in a haze of delight. I’ve got a Denny and George scarf. I’ve got a Denny and George scarf! I’ve got. . .
“Rebecca.” A man’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up and my stomach gives a lurch of horror. It’s Luke Brandon.
Luke Brandon is standing on the street, right in front of me, and he’s staring down at my carrier bag. I feel myself growing flustered. What’s he doing here on the pavement anyway? Don’t people like that have chauffeurs? Shouldn’t he be whisking off to some vital financial reception or something?
“Did you get it all right?” he says, frowning slightly.
“What?”
“Your aunt’s present.”
“Oh yes,” I say, and swallow. “Yes, I . . . I got it.”
“Is that it?” He gestures to the bag and I feel a guilty blush spread over my cheeks.
“Yes,” I say eventually. “I thought a . . . a scarf would be nice.”
“Very generous of you. Denny and George.” He raises his eye-brows. “Your aunt must be a stylish lady.”
“She is,” I say, and clear my throat. “She’s terribly creative and original.”
“I’m sure she is,” says Luke, and pauses. “What’s her name?”
Oh God. I should have run as soon as I saw him, while I hada chance. Now I’m paralyzed. I can’t think of a single female name.
“Erm . . . Ermintrude,” I hear myself saying.
“Aunt Ermintrude,” says Luke thoughtfully. “Well, give her my best wishes.”
He nods at me, and walks off, and I stand, clutching my bag, trying to work out if he guessed or not.
? ENDWICH BANK ?
FULHAM BRANCH
3 Fulham Road
London SW6 9JH
Ms. Rebecca Bloomwood
Flat 2
4 Burney Rd.
London SW6 8FD
17 November 1999
Dear Ms. Bloomwood:
I am sorry to hear that you have glandular fever.
When you have recovered, perhaps you would be kind enough to ring my assistant, Erica Parnell, and arrange a meeting to discuss your situation.
Yours sincerely,
Derek Smeath
Manager
It’s a nice color.
It only costs eighty-five pence.
If you walk into a room with it tucked under your arm, people take you seriously. With anFT under your arm, you can talk about the most frivolous things in the world, and instead of thinking you’re an airhead, people think you’re a heavyweight intellectual who has broader interests, too.
At my interview forSuccessful Saving , I went in holding copies of theFinancial Times and theInvestor’s Chronicle —and I didn’t get asked about finance once. As I remember it, we spent the whole time talking about holiday villas and gossiping about other edi-tors.
So I stop at a newsstand and buy a copy of theFT . There’s some huge headline about Rutland Bank on the front page, andI’m thinking maybe I should at least skim it, when I catch my reflection in the window of Denny and George.
I don’t look bad, I think. I’m wearing my black skirt from French Connection, and a plain white T-shirt from Knickerbox, and a little angora cardigan which I got from M&S but looks like it might be Agnès b. And my new square-toed shoes from Hobbs. Even better, although no one can see them, I know that under-neath I’m wearing my gorgeous new matching knickers and bra with embroidered yellow rosebuds. They’re the best bit of my en-tire outfit. In fact, I almost wish I could be run over so that the world would see them.
It’s a habit of mine, itemizing all the clothes I’m wearing, as though for a fashion page. I’ve been doing it for years—ever since I used to readJust Seventeen. Everyissue, they’d stop a girl on the street, take a picture of her, and list all her clothes. “T-Shirt: Chelsea Girl, Jeans: Top Shop, Shoes: borrowed from friend.” I used to read those lists avidly, and to this day, if I buy something from a shop that’s a bit uncool, I cut the label out. So that if I’m ever stopped in the street, I can pretend I don’t know where it’s from.
So anyway. There I am, with theFT tucked under my arm, thinking I look pretty good, and half wishing someone fromJust Seventeen would pop up with a camera—when suddenly my eyes focus and snap to attention, and my heart stops. In the window of Denny and George is a discreet sign. It’s dark green with cream lettering, and it says: SALE.
I stare at it, and my skin’s all prickly. It can’t be true. Denny and George can’t be having a sale. They never have a sale. Their scarves and pashminas are so coveted, they could probably sell them at twice the price. Everyone I know in the entire world aspires to owning a Denny and George scarf. (Except my mum and dad, obviously. My mum thinks if you can’t buy it at Bentalls of Kingston, you don’t need it.)
I swallow, take a couple of steps forward, then push open thedoor of the tiny shop. The door pings, and the nice blond girl who works there looks up. I don’t know her name but I’ve always liked her. Unlike some snotty cows in clothes shops, she doesn’t mind if you stand for ages staring at clothes you really can’t afford to buy. Usually what happens is, I spend half an hour lusting after scarves in Denny and George, then go off to Accessorize and buy something to cheer myself up. I’ve got a whole drawerful of Denny and George substitutes.
“Hi,” I say, trying to stay calm. “You’re . . . you’re having a sale.”
“Yes.” The blond girl smiles. “Bit unusual for us.”
My eyes sweep the room. I can see rows of scarves, neatly folded, with dark green “50 percent off” signs above them. Printed velvet, beaded silk, embroidered cashmere, all with the distinc-tive “Denny and George” signature. They’re everywhere. I don’t know where to start. I think I’m having a panic attack.
“You always liked this one, I think,” says the nice blond girl, taking out a shimmering gray-blue scarf from the pile in front of her.
Oh God, yes. I remember this one. It’s made of silky velvet, overprinted in a paler blue and dotted with iridescent beads. As I stare at it, I can feel little invisible strings, silently tugging me toward it. I have to touch it. I have to wear it. It’s the most beauti-ful thing I’ve ever seen. The girl looks at the label. “Reduced from ￡340 to ￡120.” She comes and drapes the scarf around my neck and I gape at my reflection.
There is no question. I have to have this scarf. Ihave to have it. It makes my eyes look bigger, it makes my haircut look more expensive, it makes me look like a different person. I’ll be able to wear it with everything. People will refer to me as the Girl in the Denny and George Scarf.
“I’d snap it up if I were you.” The girl smiles at me. “There’s only one of these left.”
Involuntarily, I clutch at it.
“I’ll have it,” I gasp. “I’ll have it.”
As she’s laying it out on tissue paper, I take out my purse, open it up, and reach for my VISA card in one seamless, auto-matic action—but my fingers hit bare leather. I stop in surprise and start to rummage through all the pockets of my purse, won-dering if I stuffed my card back in somewhere with a receipt or if it’s hidden underneath a business card . . . And then, with a sick-ening thud, I remember. It’s on my desk.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have left my VISA card on my desk? What was Ithinking ?
The nice blond girl is putting the wrapped scarf into a dark green Denny and George box. My mouth is dry with panic. What am I going to do?
“How would you like to pay?” she says pleasantly.
My face flames red and I swallow hard.
“I’ve just realized I’ve left my credit card at the office,” I stutter.
“Oh,” says the girl, and her hands pause.
“Can you hold it for me?” The girl looks dubious.
“For how long?”
“Until tomorrow?” I say desperately. Oh God. She’s pulling a face. Doesn’t she understand?
“I’m afraid not,” she says. “We’re not supposed to reserve sale stock.”
“Just until later this afternoon, then,” I say quickly. “What time do you close?”
“Six.”
Six! I feel a combination of relief and adrenaline sweeping through me. Challenge, Rebecca. I’ll go to the press conference, leave as soon as I can, then take a taxi back to the office. I’ll grab my VISA card, tell Philip I left my notebook behind, come here, and buy the scarf.
“Can you hold it until then?” I say beseechingly. “Please?Please? ” The girl relents.
“OK. I’ll put it behind the counter.”
“Thanks,” I gasp. I hurry out of the shop and down the roadtoward Brandon Communications. Please let the press conference be short, I pray. Please don’t let the questions go on too long. Please God,please let me have that scarf.
As I arrive at Brandon Communications, I can feel myself begin to relax. I do have three whole hours, after all. And my scarf is safely behind the counter. No one’s going to steal it from me.
There’s a sign up in the foyer saying that the Foreland Exotic Opportunities press conference is happening in the Artemis Suite, and a man in uniform is directing everybody down the corridor. This means it must be quite big. Not television-cameras-CNN-world’s-press-on-tenterhooks big, obviously. But fairly-good-turnout big. A relatively important event in our dull little world.
As I enter the room, there’s already a buzz of people milling around, and waitresses circulating with canapes. The journalists are knocking back the champagne as if they’ve never seen it before; the PR girls are looking supercilious and sipping water. A waiter offers me a glass of champagne and I take two. One for now, one to put under my chair for the boring bits.
In the far corner of the room I can see Elly Granger fromInvestor’s Weekly News. She’s been pinned into a corner by two earnest men in suits and is nodding at them, with a glassy look in her eye. Elly’s great. She’s only been onInvestor’s Weekly News for six months, and already she’s applied for forty-three other jobs. What she really wants to be is a beauty editor on a magazine, and I think she’d be really good at it. Every time I see her, she’s got a new lipstick on—and she always wears really interesting clothes. Like today, she’s wearing an orange chiffony shirt over a pair of white cotton trousers, espadrilles, and a big wooden necklace, the kind I could never wear in a million years.
WhatI really want to be is Fiona Phillips onGMTV I could really see myself, sitting on that sofa, joshing with Eamonn every morning and interviewing lots of soap stars. Sometimes, when we’re very drunk, we make pacts that if we’re not somewheremore exciting in three months, we’ll both leave our jobs. But then the thought of no money—even for a month—is almost more scary than the thought of writing about depository trust compa-nies for the rest of my life.
“Rebecca. Glad you could make it.”
I look up, and almost choke on my champagne. It’s Luke Brandon, head honcho of Brandon Communications, staring straight at me as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Staring straight down at me, I should say. He must be well over six feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes and . . . wow. Isn’t that suit nice? An expensive suit like that almost makes you want to be a man. It’s inky blue with a faint purple stripe, single-breasted, with proper horn buttons. As I run my eyes over it I find myself won-dering if it’s by Oswald Boateng, and whether the jacket’s got a silk lining in some stunning color. If this were someone else, I might ask—but not Luke Brandon, no way.
I’ve only met him a few times, and I’ve always felt slightly uneasy around him. For a start, he’s got such a scary reputation. Everyone talks all the time about what a genius he is, even Philip, my boss. He started Brandon Communications from nothing, and now it’s the biggest financial PR company in London. A few months ago he was listed inThe Mail as one of the cleverest entre-preneurs of his generation. It said his IQ was phenomenally high and he had a photographic memory.
But it’s not just that. It’s that he always seems to have a frown on his face when he’s talking to me. It’ll probably turn out that the famous Luke Brandon is not only a complete genius but he can read minds, too. He knows that when I’m staring up at some boring graph, nodding intelligently, I’m really thinking about a gorgeous black top I saw in Joseph and whether I can afford the trousers as well.
“You know Alicia, don’t you?” Luke is saying, and he gestures to the immaculate blond girl beside him.
I don’t know Alicia, as it happens. But I don’t need to. They’re all the same, the girls at Brandon C, as they call it. They’re welldressed, well spoken, are married to bankers, and have zero sense of humor. Alicia falls into the identikit pattern exactly, with her baby-blue suit, silk Hermes scarf, and matching baby-blue shoes, which I’ve seen in Russell and Bromley, and they cost an abso-lute fortune. (Ibet she’s got the bag as well.) She’s also got a suntan, which must mean she’s just come back from Mauritius or somewhere, and suddenly I feel a bit pale and weedy in com-parison.
“Rebecca,” she says coolly, grasping my hand. “You’re onSuccessful Saving , aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” I say, equally coolly.
“It’s very good of you to come today” says Alicia. “I know you journalists are terribly busy.”
“No problem,” I say. “We like to attend as many press confer-ences as we can. Keep up with industry events.” I feel pleased with my response. I’m almost fooling myself.
Alicia nods seriously, as though everything I say is incredibly important to her.
“So, tell me, Rebecca. What do you think about today’s news?” She gestures to theFT under my arm. “Quite a surprise, didn’t you think?”
Oh God. What’s she talking about?
“It’s certainly interesting,” I say still smiling, playing for time. I glance around the room for a clue, but there’s nothing. What’s she talking about? Have interest rates gone up or something?
“I have to say, I think it’s bad news for the industry,” says Alicia earnestly. “But of course, you must have your own views.”
She’s looking at me, waiting for an answer. I can feel my cheeks flaming bright red. How can I get out of this? After this, I promise myself, I’m going to read the papers every day. I’m never going to be caught out like this again.
“I agree with you,” I say eventually. “I think it’s very bad news.” My voice feels strangled. I take a quick swig of champagne and pray for an earthquake.
“Were you expecting it?” Alicia says. “I know you journalists are always ahead of the game.”
“I . . . I certainly saw it coming,” I say, and I’m pretty sure I sound convincing.
“And now this rumor about Scottish Prime and Flagstaff Life going the same way!” She looks at me intently. “Do you think that’s really on the cards?”
“It’s . . . it’s difficult to say,” I reply, and take a gulp of cham-pagne. What rumor? Why can’t she leave me alone?
Then I make the mistake of glancing up at Luke Brandon. He’s staring at me, his mouth twitching slightly. Oh shit. Heknows I don’t have a clue, doesn’t he?
“Alicia,” he says abruptly, “that’s Maggie Stevens coming in. Could you—”
“Absolutely,” she says, trained like a racehorse, and starts to move smoothly toward the door.
“And Alicia—” adds Luke, and she quickly turns back. “I want to know exactly who fucked up on those figures.”
“Yes,” gulps Alicia, and walks off.
God he’s scary. And now we’re on our own. I think I might quickly run away.
“Well,” I say brightly. “I must just go and . . .”
But Luke Brandon is leaning toward me.
“SBG announced that they’ve taken over Rutland Bank this morning,” he says quietly.
And of course, now that he says it, I remember that front-page headline.
“I know they did,” I reply haughtily. “I read it in theFT .” And before he can say anything else, I walk off, to talk to Elly.
As the press conference is about to start, Elly and I sidle toward the back and grab two seats together. We’re in one of the bigger conference rooms and there must be about a hundredchairs arranged in rows, facing a podium and a large screen. I open my notebook, write “Brandon Communications” at the top of the page, and start doodling swirly flowers down the side. Beside me, Elly’s dialing her telephone horoscope on her mobile phone.
I take a sip of champagne, lean back, and prepare to relax. There’s no point listening at press conferences. The information’s always in the press pack, and you can work out what they were talking about later. In fact, I’m wondering whether anyone would notice if I took out a pot of Hard Candy and did my nails, when suddenly the awful Alicia ducks her head down to mine.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes?” I say lazily.
“Phone call for you. It’s your editor.”
“Philip?” I say stupidly. As though I’ve a whole array of edi-tors to choose from.
“Yes.” She looks at me as though I’m a moron and gestures to a phone on a table at the back. Elly gives me a questioning look and I shrug back. Philip’s never phoned me at a press conference before.
I feel rather excited and important as I walk to the back of the room. Perhaps there’s an emergency at the office. Perhaps he’s scooped an incredible story and wants me to fly to New York to follow up a lead.
“Hello, Philip?” I say into the receiver—then immediately I wish I’d said something thrusting and impressive, like a simple “Yep.”
“Rebecca, listen, sorry to be a bore,” says Philip, “but I’ve got a migraine coming on. I’m going to head off home.”
“Oh,” I say puzzledly.
“And I wondered if you could run a small errand for me.”
An errand? If he wants somebody to buy him Tylenol, he should get a secretary.
“I’m not sure,” I say discouragingly. “I’m a bit tied up here.”
“When you’ve finished there. The Social Security SelectCommittee is releasing its report at five o’clock. Can you go and pick it up? You can go straight to Westminster from your press conference.”
What? I stare at the phone in horror. No, I can’t pick up a bloody report. I need to pick up my VISA card! I need to secure my scarf.
“Can’t Clare go?” I say. “I was going to come back to the office and finish my research on . . .” What am I supposed to be writing about this month? “On mortgages.”
“Clare’s got a briefing in the City. And Westminster’s on your way home to Trendy Fulham, isn’t it?”
Philipalways has to make a joke about me living in Fulham. Just because he lives in Harpenden and thinks anyone who doesn’t live in lovely leafy suburbia is mad.
“You can just hop off the tube,” he’s saying, “pick it up, and hop back on again.”
Oh God. I close my eyes and think quickly. An hour here. Rush back to the office, pick up my VISA card, back to Denny and George, get my scarf, rush to Westminster, pick up the re-port. I should just about make it.
“Fine,” I say. “Leave it to me.”
I sit back down, just as the lights dim and the wordsFar Eastern Opportunities appear on the screen in front of us. There is a colorful series of pictures from Hong Kong, Thailand, and other exotic places, which would usually have me thinking wistfully about going on holiday. But today I can’t relax, or even feel sorry for the new girl fromPortfolio Week, who’s frantically trying to write everything down and will probably ask five questions be-cause she thinks she should. I’m too concerned about my scarf. What if I don’t make it back in time? What if someone puts in a higher offer? The very thought makes me panic.
Then, just as the pictures of Thailand disappear and the bor-ing graphs begin, I have a flash of inspiration. Of course! I’ll paycash for the scarf. No one can argue with cash. I can get ￡100 out on my cash card, so all I need is another ￡20, and the scarf is mine.
I tear a piece of paper out of my notebook, write on it “Can you lend me twenty quid?” and pass it to Elly who’s still sur-reptitiously listening to her mobile phone. I wonder what she’s listening to. It can’t still be her horoscope, surely? She looks down, shakes her head, and writes, “No can do. Bloody machine swallowed my card. Living off luncheon vouchers at moment.”
Damn. I hesitate, then write, “What about credit card? I’ll pay you back, honest. And what are you listening to?”
I pass the page to her and suddenly the lights go up. The presentation has ended and I didn’t hear a word of it. People shift around on their seats and a PR girl starts handing out glossy brochures. Elly finishes her call and grins at me.
“Love life prediction,” she says, tapping in another number. “It’s really accurate stuff.”
“Load of old bullshit, more like.” I shake my head disapprov-ingly. “I can’t believe you go for all that rubbish. Call yourself a financial journalist?”
“No,” says Elly. “Do you?” And we both start to giggle, until some old bag from one of the nationals turns round and gives us an angry glare.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A piercing voice interrupts us and I look up. It’s Alicia, standing up at the front of the room. She’s got very good legs, I note resentfully. “As you can see, the Foreland Exotic Opportunities Savings Plan represents an entirely new ap-proach to investment.” She looks around the room, meets my eye, and smiles coldly.
“Exotic Opportunities,” I whisper scornfully to Elly and point to the leaflet. “Exotic prices, more like. Have you seen how much they’re charging?”
(I always turn to the charges first. Just like I always look at the price tag first.)
Elly rolls her eyes sympathetically, still listening to the phone.
“Foreland Investments are all about adding value,” Alicia is saying in her snooty voice. “Foreland Investments offer you more.”
“They charge more, you lose more,” I say aloud without thinking, and there’s a laugh around the room. God, how embar-rassing. And now Luke Brandon’s lifting his head, too. Quickly I look down and pretend to be writing notes.
Although to be honest, I don’t know why I even pretend to write notes. It’s not as if we ever put anything in the magazine except the puff that comes on the press release. Foreland Invest-ments takes out a whopping double-page spread advertisement every month,and they took Philip on some fantastic research (ha-ha) trip to Thailand last year—so we’re never allowed to say any-thing except how wonderful they are. Like that’s really any help to our readers.
As Alicia carries on speaking, I lean toward Elly.
“So, listen,” I whisper. “Can I borrow your credit card?”
“All used up,” hisses Elly apologetically. “I’m up to my limit. Why do you think I’m living off LVs?”
“But I need money!” I whisper. “I’m desperate! I need twenty quid!”
I’ve spoken more loudly than I intended and Alicia stops speaking.
“Perhaps you should have invested with Foreland Invest-ments, Rebecca,” says Alicia, and another titter goes round the room. A few faces turn round to gawk at me, and I stare back at them lividly. They’re fellow journalists, for God’s sake. They should be on my side. National Union of Journalists solidarity and all that.
Not that I’ve ever actually got round to joining the NUJ. But still.
“What do you need twenty quid for?” says Luke Brandon, from the front of the room.
“I . . . my aunt,” I say defiantly. “She’s in hospital and I wanted to get her a present.”
The room is silent. Then, to my disbelief, Luke Brandon reaches into his pocket, takes out a ￡20 note, and gives it to a guy in the front row of journalists. He hesitates, then passes it back to the row behind. And so it goes on, a twenty-quid note being passed from hand to hand, making its way to me like a fan at a gig being passed over the crowd. As I take hold of it, a round of applause goes round the room and I blush.
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll pay you back, of course.”
“My best wishes to your aunt,” says Luke Brandon.
“Thanks,” I say again. Then I glance at Alicia, and feel a little dart of triumph. She looks utterly deflated.
Toward the end of the question-and-answer session, people begin slipping out to get back to their offices. This is usually when I slip out to go and buy a cappuccino and browse in a few shops. But today I don’t. Today I decide I will stick it out until the last dismal question about tax structures. Then I’ll go up to the front and thank Luke Brandon in person for his kind, if embar-rassing, gesture. And then I’ll go and get my scarf. Yippee!
But to my surprise, after only a few questions, Luke Brandon gets up, whispers something to Alicia, and heads for the door.
“Thanks,” I mutter as he passes my chair, but I’m not sure he even hears me.
The tube stops in a tunnel for no apparent reason. Five min-utes go by, then ten minutes. I can’t believe my bad luck. Normally, of course, I long for the tube to break down—so I’ve got an excuse to stay out of the office for longer. But today I behave like a stressed businessman with an ulcer. I tap my fingers and sigh, and peer out of the window into the blackness.
Part of my brain knows that I’ve got plenty of time to get to Denny and George before it closes. Another part knows that even if I don’t make it, it’s unlikely the blond girl will sell my scarf tosomeone else. But the possibility is there. So until I’ve got that scarf in my hands I won’t be able to relax.
As the train finally gets going again I sink into my seat with a dramatic sigh and look at the pale, silent man on my left. He’s wearing jeans and sneakers, and I notice his shirt is on inside out. Gosh, I think in admiration, did he read the article on decon-structing fashion in last month’sVogue , too? I’m about to ask him—then I take another look at his jeans (really nasty fake 501s) and his sneakers (very new, very white)—and something tells me he didn’t.
“Thank God!” I say instead. “I was getting desperate there.”
“It’s frustrating,” he agrees quietly.
“They just don’t think, do they?” I say. “I mean, some of us have got crucial things we need to be doing. I’m in a terrible hurry!”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry myself,” says the man.
“If that train hadn’t started moving, I don’t know what I would have done.” I shake my head. “You feel so . . . impotent!”
“I know exactly what you mean,” says the man intensely. “They don’t realize that some of us . . .” He gestures toward me. “We aren’t just idly traveling. Itmatters whether we arrive or not.”
“Absolutely!” I say. “Where are you off to?”
“My wife’s in labor,” he says. “Our fourth.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Well . . . Gosh. Congratulations. I hope you—”
“She took an hour and a half last time,” says the man, rubbing his damp forehead. “And I’ve been on this tube for forty minutes already. Still. At least we’re moving now.”
He gives a little shrug, then smiles at me.
“How about you? What’s your urgent business?”
Oh God.
“I . . . ahm . . . I’m going to . . .”
I stop feebly and clear my throat, feeling rather sheepish. Ican’t tell this man that my urgent business consists of picking up a scarf from Denny and George.
I mean, a scarf. It’s not even a suit or a coat, or something worthy like that.
“It’s not that important,” I mumble.
“I don’t believe that,” he says nicely.
Oh, now I feel awful. I glance up—and thank goodness, it’s my stop.
“Good luck,” I say, hastily getting up. “I really hope you get there in time.”
As I walk along the pavement I’m feeling a bit shamefaced. I should have got out my 120 quid and given it to that man for his baby, instead of buying a pointless scarf. I mean, when you think about it, what’s more important? Clothes—or the miracle of new life?
As I ponder this issue, I feel quite deep and philosophical. In fact, I’m so engrossed, I almost walk past my turning. But I look up just in time and turn the corner—and feel a jolt. There’s a girl coming toward me and she’s carrying a Denny and George carrier bag. And suddenly everything is swept from my mind.
Oh my God.
What if she’s got my scarf?
What if she asked for it specially and that assistant sold it to her, thinking I wasn’t going to come back?
My heart starts to beat in panic and I begin to stride along the street toward the shop. As I arrive at the door and push it open, I can barely breathe for fear. What if it’s gone? What will I do?
But the blond girl smiles as I enter.
“Hi!” she says. “It’s waiting for you.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say in relief and subside weakly against the counter.
I honestly feel as though I’ve run an obstacle course to get here. In fact, I think, they should list shopping as a cardiovascular activity. My heart never beats as fast as it does when I see a “reduced by 50 percent” sign.
I count out the money in tens and twenties and wait, almost shivering as she ducks behind the counter and produces the green box. She slides it into a thick glossy bag with dark green cord handles and hands it to me, and I almost want to cry out loud, the moment is so wonderful.
That moment. That instant when your fingers curl round the handles of a shiny, uncreased bag—and all the gorgeous new things inside it become yours. What’s it like? It’s like going hun-gry for days, then cramming your mouth full of warm buttered toast. It’s like waking up and realizing it’s the weekend. It’s like the better moments of sex. Everything else is blocked out of your mind. It’s pure, selfish pleasure.
I walk slowly out of the shop, still in a haze of delight. I’ve got a Denny and George scarf. I’ve got a Denny and George scarf! I’ve got. . .
“Rebecca.” A man’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up and my stomach gives a lurch of horror. It’s Luke Brandon.
Luke Brandon is standing on the street, right in front of me, and he’s staring down at my carrier bag. I feel myself growing flustered. What’s he doing here on the pavement anyway? Don’t people like that have chauffeurs? Shouldn’t he be whisking off to some vital financial reception or something?
“Did you get it all right?” he says, frowning slightly.
“What?”
“Your aunt’s present.”
“Oh yes,” I say, and swallow. “Yes, I . . . I got it.”
“Is that it?” He gestures to the bag and I feel a guilty blush spread over my cheeks.
“Yes,” I say eventually. “I thought a . . . a scarf would be nice.”
“Very generous of you. Denny and George.” He raises his eye-brows. “Your aunt must be a stylish lady.”
“She is,” I say, and clear my throat. “She’s terribly creative and original.”
“I’m sure she is,” says Luke, and pauses. “What’s her name?”
Oh God. I should have run as soon as I saw him, while I hada chance. Now I’m paralyzed. I can’t think of a single female name.
“Erm . . . Ermintrude,” I hear myself saying.
“Aunt Ermintrude,” says Luke thoughtfully. “Well, give her my best wishes.”
He nods at me, and walks off, and I stand, clutching my bag, trying to work out if he guessed or not.
? ENDWICH BANK ?
FULHAM BRANCH
3 Fulham Road
London SW6 9JH
Ms. Rebecca Bloomwood
Flat 2
4 Burney Rd.
London SW6 8FD
17 November 1999
Dear Ms. Bloomwood:
I am sorry to hear that you have glandular fever.
When you have recovered, perhaps you would be kind enough to ring my assistant, Erica Parnell, and arrange a meeting to discuss your situation.
Yours sincerely,
Derek Smeath
Manager
Chapter 1
OK. DON’T PANIC. Don’tpanic. It’s only a VISA bill. It’s a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few num-bers be?
I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It’s only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thou-sandth time. And I’m not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be.
Sort of. Roughly.
It’ll be about . . . ￡200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe ￡300. Three-fifty, max.
I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was ￡200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny—everyone’s admired it. Or, at least, Suze has.
And the Jigsaw suit was on sale—30 percent off. So that was actuallysaving money.
I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quitea lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn’t I? What am I sup-posed to do, walk around in a blur?
And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to . . . ￡400?
At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She’s sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like “Answer immediately” and “Not urgent but respond.” I loathe Clare Edwards.
“OK, Becky?” she says.
“Fine,” I say lightly. “Just reading a letter.”
I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don’t quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized—as it isevery month—by my secret dream.
Do you want to know about my secret dream? It’s based on a story I once read inThe Daily World about a mix-up at a bank. I loved this story so much, I cut it out and stuck it onto my wardrobe door. Two credit card bills were sent to the wrong peo-ple, and—get this—each person paid the wrong bill without real-izing. They paid off each other’s billswithout even checking them.
And ever since I read that story, my secret fantasy has been that the same thing will happen to me. I mean, I know it sounds unlikely—but if it happened once, it can happen again, can’t it? Some dotty old woman in Cornwall will be sent my humongous bill and will pay it without even looking at it. And I’ll be sent her bill for three tins of cat food at fifty-nine pence each. Which, naturally, I’ll pay without question. Fair’s fair, after all.
A smile is plastered over my face as I gaze out of the window. I’m convinced that this month it’ll happen—my secret dream is about to come true. But when I eventually pull the bill out of the envelope—goaded by Clare’s curious gaze—my smile falters, then disappears. Something hot is blocking my throat. I think it could be panic.
The page is black with type. A series of familiar names rushes past my eyes like a mini shopping mall. I try to take them in, butthey’re moving too fast. Thorntons, I manage to glimpse. Thorntons Chocolates? What was I doing in Thorntons Chocolates? I’m sup-posed to be on a diet. This billcan’t be right. This can’t be me. I can’t possibly have spent all this money.
Don’t panic! I yell internally. The key is not to panic. Just read each entry slowly, one by one. I take a deep breath and force my-self to focus calmly, starting at the top.
WHSmith (well, that’s OK. Everyone needs stationery.)
Boots (everyone needs shampoo)
Specsavers (essential)
Oddbins(bottleof wine—essential)
Our Price(Our Price?Oh yes. The new Charlatans album. Well, I had to have that, didn’t I?)
Bella Pasta (supper with Caitlin)
Oddbins (bottle of wine—essential)
Esso (petrol doesn’t count)
Quaglinos (expensive—but it was a one-off)
Pret à Manger (that time I ran out of cash)
Oddbins (bottle of wine—essential)
Rugs to Riches (what? Oh yes. Stupid rug.)
La Senza (sexy underwear for date with James)
Agent Provocateur (even sexier underwear for date with James. Like I needed it.)
Body Shop (that skin brusher thing which Imustuse)
Next (fairly boring white shirt—but it was in the sale)
Millets . . .
I stop in my tracks. Millets? I never go into Millets. What would I be doing in Millets? I stare at the statement in puzzle-ment, wrinkling my brow and trying to think—and then sud-denly, the truth dawns on me. It’s obvious. Someone else has been using my card.
Oh my God. I, Rebecca Bloomwood, have been the victim of a crime.
Now it all makes sense. Some criminals pinched my creditcard and forged my signature. Who knows where else they’ve used it? No wonder my statement’s so black with figures! Some-one’s gone on a spending spree round London with my card—and they thought they would just get away with it.
But how? I scrabble in my bag for my purse, open it—and there’s my VISA card, staring up at me. I take it out and run my fingers over the glossy surface. Someone must have pinched it from my purse, used it—and then putit back.It must be someone I know. Oh my God. Who?
I look suspiciously round the office. Whoever it is, isn’t very bright. Using my card at Millets! It’s almost laughable. As if I’d ever shop there.
“I’ve never even been into Millets!” I say aloud.
“Yes you have,” says Clare.
“What?” I turn to her. “No I haven’t.”
“You bought Michael’s leaving present from Millets, didn’t you?”
I feel my smile disappear. Oh, bugger. Of course. The blue anorak for Michael. The blue sodding anorak from Millets.
When Michael, our deputy editor, left three weeks ago, I vol-unteered to buy his present. I took the brown envelope full of coins and notes into the shop and picked out an anorak (take it from me, he’s that kind of guy). And at the last minute, now I remember, I decided to pay on credit and keep all that handy cash for myself.
I can vividly remember fishing out the four ￡5 notes and carefully putting them in my wallet, sorting out the pound coins and putting them in my coin compartment, and pouring the rest of the change into the bottom of my bag. Oh good, I remember thinking. I won’t have to go to the cash machine. I’d thought that sixty quid would last me for weeks.
So what happened to it? I can’t have justspent sixty quid without realizing it, can I?
“Why are you asking, anyway?” says Clare, and she leans for-ward. I can see her beady little X-ray eyes gleaming behind herspecs. She knows I’m looking at my VISA bill. “No reason,” I say, briskly turning to the second page of my statement.
But I’ve been put off my stride. Instead of doing what I nor-mally do—look at the minimum payment required and ignore the total completely—I find myself staring straight at the bottom figure.
Nine hundred and forty-nine pounds, sixty-three pence. In clear black and white.
For thirty seconds I am completely motionless. Then, with-out changing expression, I stuff the bill back into the envelope. I honestly feel as though this piece of paper has nothing to do with me. Perhaps, if I carelessly let it drop down on the floor behind my computer, it will disappear. The cleaners will sweep it up and I can claim I never got it. They can’t charge me for a bill I never received, can they?
I’m already composing a letter in my head. “Dear Managing Director of VISA. Your letter has confused me. What bill are you talking about, precisely? I never received any bill from your com-pany. I did not care for your tone and should warn you, I am writing to Anne Robinson ofWatchdog.”
Or I could always move abroad.
“Becky?” My head jerks up and I see Clare holding this month’s news list. “Have you finished the piece on Lloyds?”
“Nearly,” I lie. As she’s watching me, I feel forced to summon it up on my computer screen, just to show I’m willing.
“This high-yield, 60-day access account offers tiered rates of interest on investments of over ￡2,000,” I type onto the screen, copying directly from a press release in front of me. “Long-term savers may also be interested in a new stepped-rate bond which requires a minimum of ￡5,000.”
I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
This is what I do, by the way. I’m a journalist on a financial magazine. I’m paid to tell other people how to organize their money.
Of course, being a financial journalist is not the career I always wanted. No one who writes about personal finance ever meant to do it. People tell you they “fell into” personal finance. They’re lying. What they mean is they couldn’t get a job writing about anything more interesting. They mean they applied for jobs atThe Times andThe Express andMarie-Claire andVogue andGQ , and all they got back was “Piss off.”
So they started applying toMetalwork Monthly andCheese-makers Gazette andWhat Investment Plan ? And they were taken on as the crappiest editorial assistant possible on no money whatso-ever and were grateful. And they’ve stayed on writing about metal, or cheese, or savings, ever since—because that’s all they know. I myself started on the catchily titledPersonal Investment Periodical. I learned how to copy out a press release and nod at press conferences and ask questions that sounded as though I knew what I was talking about. After a year and a half—believe it or not—I was head-hunted toSuccessful Saving.
Of course, I still know nothing about finance. People at the bus stop know more about finance than me. Schoolchildren know more than me. I’ve been doing this job for three years now, and I’m still expecting someone to catch me out.
That afternoon, Philip, the editor, calls my name, and I jump in fright.
“Rebecca?” he says. “A word.” And he beckons me over to his desk. His voice seems lower all of a sudden, almost conspirato-rial, and he’s smiling at me, as though he’s about to give me a piece of good news.
Promotion, I think. It must be. He read the piece I wrote on international equity securities last week (in which I likened the hunt for long-term growth to the hunt for the perfect pair of sum-mer mules) and was bowled over by how exciting I made it allsound. Heknows it’s unfair I earn less than Clare, so he’s going to promote me to her level. Or even above. And he’s telling me dis-creetly so Clare won’t get jealous.
A wide smile plasters itself over my face and I get up and walk the three yards or so to his desk, trying to stay calm but already planning what I’ll buy with my raise. I’ll get that swirly coat in Whistles. And some black high-heeled boots from Pied à Terre. Maybe I’ll go on holiday. And I’ll pay off that blasted VISA bill once and for all. I feel buoyant with relief. Iknew everything would be OK . . .
“Rebecca?” He’s thrusting a card at me. “I can’t make this press conference,” he says. “But it could be quite interesting. Will you go? It’s at Brandon Communications.”
I can feel the elated expression falling off my face like jelly. He’s not promoting me. I’m not getting a raise. I feel betrayed.Why did he smile at me like that? He must have known he was lifting my hopes.
“Something wrong?” inquires Philip.
“No,” I mutter. But I can’t bring myself to smile. In front of me, my new swirly coat and high-heeled boots are disappearing into a puddle, like the Wicked Witch of the West. No promotion. Just a press conference about . . . I turn over the card. About a new unit trust. How could anyonepossibly describe that as inter-esting?
I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It’s only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thou-sandth time. And I’m not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be.
Sort of. Roughly.
It’ll be about . . . ￡200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe ￡300. Three-fifty, max.
I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was ￡200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny—everyone’s admired it. Or, at least, Suze has.
And the Jigsaw suit was on sale—30 percent off. So that was actuallysaving money.
I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quitea lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn’t I? What am I sup-posed to do, walk around in a blur?
And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to . . . ￡400?
At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She’s sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like “Answer immediately” and “Not urgent but respond.” I loathe Clare Edwards.
“OK, Becky?” she says.
“Fine,” I say lightly. “Just reading a letter.”
I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don’t quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized—as it isevery month—by my secret dream.
Do you want to know about my secret dream? It’s based on a story I once read inThe Daily World about a mix-up at a bank. I loved this story so much, I cut it out and stuck it onto my wardrobe door. Two credit card bills were sent to the wrong peo-ple, and—get this—each person paid the wrong bill without real-izing. They paid off each other’s billswithout even checking them.
And ever since I read that story, my secret fantasy has been that the same thing will happen to me. I mean, I know it sounds unlikely—but if it happened once, it can happen again, can’t it? Some dotty old woman in Cornwall will be sent my humongous bill and will pay it without even looking at it. And I’ll be sent her bill for three tins of cat food at fifty-nine pence each. Which, naturally, I’ll pay without question. Fair’s fair, after all.
A smile is plastered over my face as I gaze out of the window. I’m convinced that this month it’ll happen—my secret dream is about to come true. But when I eventually pull the bill out of the envelope—goaded by Clare’s curious gaze—my smile falters, then disappears. Something hot is blocking my throat. I think it could be panic.
The page is black with type. A series of familiar names rushes past my eyes like a mini shopping mall. I try to take them in, butthey’re moving too fast. Thorntons, I manage to glimpse. Thorntons Chocolates? What was I doing in Thorntons Chocolates? I’m sup-posed to be on a diet. This billcan’t be right. This can’t be me. I can’t possibly have spent all this money.
Don’t panic! I yell internally. The key is not to panic. Just read each entry slowly, one by one. I take a deep breath and force my-self to focus calmly, starting at the top.
WHSmith (well, that’s OK. Everyone needs stationery.)
Boots (everyone needs shampoo)
Specsavers (essential)
Oddbins(bottleof wine—essential)
Our Price(Our Price?Oh yes. The new Charlatans album. Well, I had to have that, didn’t I?)
Bella Pasta (supper with Caitlin)
Oddbins (bottle of wine—essential)
Esso (petrol doesn’t count)
Quaglinos (expensive—but it was a one-off)
Pret à Manger (that time I ran out of cash)
Oddbins (bottle of wine—essential)
Rugs to Riches (what? Oh yes. Stupid rug.)
La Senza (sexy underwear for date with James)
Agent Provocateur (even sexier underwear for date with James. Like I needed it.)
Body Shop (that skin brusher thing which Imustuse)
Next (fairly boring white shirt—but it was in the sale)
Millets . . .
I stop in my tracks. Millets? I never go into Millets. What would I be doing in Millets? I stare at the statement in puzzle-ment, wrinkling my brow and trying to think—and then sud-denly, the truth dawns on me. It’s obvious. Someone else has been using my card.
Oh my God. I, Rebecca Bloomwood, have been the victim of a crime.
Now it all makes sense. Some criminals pinched my creditcard and forged my signature. Who knows where else they’ve used it? No wonder my statement’s so black with figures! Some-one’s gone on a spending spree round London with my card—and they thought they would just get away with it.
But how? I scrabble in my bag for my purse, open it—and there’s my VISA card, staring up at me. I take it out and run my fingers over the glossy surface. Someone must have pinched it from my purse, used it—and then putit back.It must be someone I know. Oh my God. Who?
I look suspiciously round the office. Whoever it is, isn’t very bright. Using my card at Millets! It’s almost laughable. As if I’d ever shop there.
“I’ve never even been into Millets!” I say aloud.
“Yes you have,” says Clare.
“What?” I turn to her. “No I haven’t.”
“You bought Michael’s leaving present from Millets, didn’t you?”
I feel my smile disappear. Oh, bugger. Of course. The blue anorak for Michael. The blue sodding anorak from Millets.
When Michael, our deputy editor, left three weeks ago, I vol-unteered to buy his present. I took the brown envelope full of coins and notes into the shop and picked out an anorak (take it from me, he’s that kind of guy). And at the last minute, now I remember, I decided to pay on credit and keep all that handy cash for myself.
I can vividly remember fishing out the four ￡5 notes and carefully putting them in my wallet, sorting out the pound coins and putting them in my coin compartment, and pouring the rest of the change into the bottom of my bag. Oh good, I remember thinking. I won’t have to go to the cash machine. I’d thought that sixty quid would last me for weeks.
So what happened to it? I can’t have justspent sixty quid without realizing it, can I?
“Why are you asking, anyway?” says Clare, and she leans for-ward. I can see her beady little X-ray eyes gleaming behind herspecs. She knows I’m looking at my VISA bill. “No reason,” I say, briskly turning to the second page of my statement.
But I’ve been put off my stride. Instead of doing what I nor-mally do—look at the minimum payment required and ignore the total completely—I find myself staring straight at the bottom figure.
Nine hundred and forty-nine pounds, sixty-three pence. In clear black and white.
For thirty seconds I am completely motionless. Then, with-out changing expression, I stuff the bill back into the envelope. I honestly feel as though this piece of paper has nothing to do with me. Perhaps, if I carelessly let it drop down on the floor behind my computer, it will disappear. The cleaners will sweep it up and I can claim I never got it. They can’t charge me for a bill I never received, can they?
I’m already composing a letter in my head. “Dear Managing Director of VISA. Your letter has confused me. What bill are you talking about, precisely? I never received any bill from your com-pany. I did not care for your tone and should warn you, I am writing to Anne Robinson ofWatchdog.”
Or I could always move abroad.
“Becky?” My head jerks up and I see Clare holding this month’s news list. “Have you finished the piece on Lloyds?”
“Nearly,” I lie. As she’s watching me, I feel forced to summon it up on my computer screen, just to show I’m willing.
“This high-yield, 60-day access account offers tiered rates of interest on investments of over ￡2,000,” I type onto the screen, copying directly from a press release in front of me. “Long-term savers may also be interested in a new stepped-rate bond which requires a minimum of ￡5,000.”
I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
This is what I do, by the way. I’m a journalist on a financial magazine. I’m paid to tell other people how to organize their money.
Of course, being a financial journalist is not the career I always wanted. No one who writes about personal finance ever meant to do it. People tell you they “fell into” personal finance. They’re lying. What they mean is they couldn’t get a job writing about anything more interesting. They mean they applied for jobs atThe Times andThe Express andMarie-Claire andVogue andGQ , and all they got back was “Piss off.”
So they started applying toMetalwork Monthly andCheese-makers Gazette andWhat Investment Plan ? And they were taken on as the crappiest editorial assistant possible on no money whatso-ever and were grateful. And they’ve stayed on writing about metal, or cheese, or savings, ever since—because that’s all they know. I myself started on the catchily titledPersonal Investment Periodical. I learned how to copy out a press release and nod at press conferences and ask questions that sounded as though I knew what I was talking about. After a year and a half—believe it or not—I was head-hunted toSuccessful Saving.
Of course, I still know nothing about finance. People at the bus stop know more about finance than me. Schoolchildren know more than me. I’ve been doing this job for three years now, and I’m still expecting someone to catch me out.
That afternoon, Philip, the editor, calls my name, and I jump in fright.
“Rebecca?” he says. “A word.” And he beckons me over to his desk. His voice seems lower all of a sudden, almost conspirato-rial, and he’s smiling at me, as though he’s about to give me a piece of good news.
Promotion, I think. It must be. He read the piece I wrote on international equity securities last week (in which I likened the hunt for long-term growth to the hunt for the perfect pair of sum-mer mules) and was bowled over by how exciting I made it allsound. Heknows it’s unfair I earn less than Clare, so he’s going to promote me to her level. Or even above. And he’s telling me dis-creetly so Clare won’t get jealous.
A wide smile plasters itself over my face and I get up and walk the three yards or so to his desk, trying to stay calm but already planning what I’ll buy with my raise. I’ll get that swirly coat in Whistles. And some black high-heeled boots from Pied à Terre. Maybe I’ll go on holiday. And I’ll pay off that blasted VISA bill once and for all. I feel buoyant with relief. Iknew everything would be OK . . .
“Rebecca?” He’s thrusting a card at me. “I can’t make this press conference,” he says. “But it could be quite interesting. Will you go? It’s at Brandon Communications.”
I can feel the elated expression falling off my face like jelly. He’s not promoting me. I’m not getting a raise. I feel betrayed.Why did he smile at me like that? He must have known he was lifting my hopes.
“Something wrong?” inquires Philip.
“No,” I mutter. But I can’t bring myself to smile. In front of me, my new swirly coat and high-heeled boots are disappearing into a puddle, like the Wicked Witch of the West. No promotion. Just a press conference about . . . I turn over the card. About a new unit trust. How could anyonepossibly describe that as inter-esting?
hear many voices in Ramallah that call for the
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did it to the Cowboys on Sunday
The Washington Monument and National Cathedral remain closed as repairs continue on those quake-damaged structures
The Washington Monument and National Cathedral remain closed as repairs continue on those quake-damaged structures. Moreover." said Serry. But Nate wasn't sure he'd be able to go trick-or-treating Monday. A lot of folks were calling for Eagles coach Andy Reid to be fired. the evolution. Although the Main Hall was closed as a precaution. the segregation in the media. If your teenager had injured someone in an accident he would be on his way to prison for an extended term." said John Boyd. vigor. They must work with communities looking to make a difference. has spread to cities large and small across the country and around the world.H.
have been killed in Syria since Oct. Mr. composed and precise. the former Louisiana governor and long-shot 2012 candidate who has been excluded from GOP debates. with these tips:? DIY: If you're feeling crafty. When a network of trust is developed among teachers. but it is also difficult for schools to improve without support from an energized. giving them the down payment on a home. J. Salem (of The Salem Witch Trial's) is gussied up. children resist reading when it's forced upon them by mandatory requirements of parents or teachers."Police in Austin.Up Next0Online OT: DAL/PHIFOXSports.?? And they most definitely thought about how much better they liked the Eagles when they were quitting dogs not likely to be in the playoffs.
First atop this list of talking points has been the rule at our daughters' school that prohibits students from wearing masks as part of their costume. but it quickly turned to a miserably cold and wet slush. What potential to take death on in a safe way. These young people each had a unique story of their own."Ashley Parker.??Since Washington establishment critics haven??t had much luck in attacking Mr. Steve King (R-Iowa) called the settlement a waste of federal money. beat them down and keep them down. looks at her mother's experience as a cautionary tale. they have all these resources here to take down three food tables.The morals of the story? First. a 26-year old law student from Boston. When people can't tell who you are. the Quartet's talks with the two sides could allow them to hold "quiet talks" of their own.
I know there are people out there who have situations that make finding time to exercise extremely difficult. and betrayal of Obama. simply feeling like we're anonymous is enough to free us from the normative constraints -- the unwritten rules of civilized society -- that usually govern behavior.None of this talk about Hillary as the Democratic candidate will go anywhere. It also ignores the recent history of presidential politics. Using what we HAD "in the house" was my inspiration. West Virginia. If I'm not exercising during my lunch break. declaring in typically bombastic fashion. took place in June 2007. and our heart. In other words. More extensive repairs are scheduled to begin this week on the Main Hall. has difficulty telling the difference between medicine and candy.
Cain ?? and all Americans."Thirty-two shelters were open around the state. though they have largely held and most of the capital remained dry. One year my daughter was a bumble bee. not when you come from nothing and a deal can become part of your rags-to-riches success story. Blogger Carla Birnberg over at Shine. but it quickly turned to a miserably cold and wet slush. and spent 8 hours carving them in nearby Mountain View. have launched legal action in the hope of clearing scores of tents from a pedestrianized square and footpath outside the cathedral. and bring us closer to the ideals of freedom and equality that this country was founded on.STAR GAZINGEverybody loves the NFL."Syria is the hub now in this region. supported bank bailouts."The government is concerned about every individual who has experienced flooding.
or ask your local librarian or bookstore seller for recommendations.Halloween is."Listen. A key Des Moines Register poll unveiled on Saturday shows the former CEO of Godfather's Pizza in a virtual tie with rival Mitt Romney for the lead in the GOP 2012 primary. We teach them they are entitled to have everything they want. After the show."If there is no more additional water. Eco-friendly CostumesMany costume accessories. The GOP war is about regaining power. I agree. Philly is back in play.com and Facebook.One year I was a butterfly. which has been to act like a frontrunner and not do a lot of interviews.
But often in assisting them. and the U. She was just as much the prime target for the campaign of GOP slander.Hillary experienced that relentless down and dirty lust for power and dominance first hand during her years in the Clinton White House. Conn. Darth Vader. That was the only option. It was like a nightmare. without anyone to set a bad example before them? A paltry 8 percent left with extra candy. we must always remember the purpose. Ted and I were enjoying a nice bowl of childless udon noodle soup. In recent generations "a better life" has become defined as financial stability.??Cain will certainly be asked to address the allegations against him more specifically in the coming days. In 1982 polls showed that a majority of voters said that Reagan should not run for re-election because of his supposed political failures.
marriage. significant other to pump up their self-esteem?"Sweet Talkin' Ken" isn't the most offensive toy of the year -- who can forget August's t-shirt-gate? -- but it doesn't seem to have any real. when the kids' teriyaki chicken arrived. Commissioner Randy Leonard had urged them to reconsider. However. It's about the supposed shortcomings. "He's not appeared on this program or any Sunday talk show since March of 2010. He has two public events in Washington Monday: a 9 a. maintains my oldest.. "but we can't allow this to be a permanent campsite. Security Council that undeclared chemical weapons sites have been located in Libya. have been forgotten.??What they showed is you never give up.
.First atop this list of talking points has been the rule at our daughters' school that prohibits students from wearing masks as part of their costume. nature gets ugly.com on MSN Watch latest sports news and highlights More FOXSports. curfew. plays with girl's toys. regardless of how the 7-year-old feels.Nick Thommen.com and the Mother Nature Network. personality.I'm sure I saw a lady Santa Claus--not for the first time in my life. I've used the lessons learned and my inspiration gained from DDA.??Watch the game. supported bank bailouts.
legislative reversals.That team was dangerous only to itself." she said. Not my family.Racism. "sleep-in" until 6:30 a. she said. or attitude they chose -- and I mean how do they feel about "their" choice? And how can we. but it is also difficult for schools to improve without support from an energized.The morals of the story? First. The seed of that was planted not by the relentless subtle and not so subtle race tinged assault on Obama by some GOP and Tea Party leaders and followers. and added that the passengers would be reimbursed. keep me from taking advantage of the opportunities set before me. Syria's state-run news agency SANA.
But in order for the Palestinian leadership to continue to be committed to the security coordination with Israel. Mitt Romney. Massachusetts had more than 600. that era. Syria's state-run news agency SANA. for example. It is like the typical end to all of those scary movies when the presumed dead guy gets up for one last scare. hey. Thailand's political and economic heart.. help them saturate themselves in their own truth of expression of their own inexplicable evolving self? Halloween opens doors of socially acceptable potentials.Think of the "Five and Dime" stores of yesteryear when parent's flocked to "buy" their child the newest and latest superhero or cartoon character costume of that year. N. Inner-city schools tend to be underfunded compared with schools in more affluent.
m." he said. In their minds. well. Cain??s ideas to fix a bad economy and create jobs. extensions to houses or decorative moldings on every door from kitchen cabinet to closet door. Most of all. that era.Vaccaro.Since DDA 2011. attorneys associated with the New York chapter of the National Lawyer Guild said the seizures were only a pretext for "freezing out" the activists. real promising young leaders do exist. where one group leverages influence over another. and took advantage of an opportunity.
Mr. and the U.. our sense of personal worth. is another problem faced by many inner-city schools. the Quartet's talks with the two sides could allow them to hold "quiet talks" of their own. I usually spend this time getting ready for the next day and enjoying a little me time. Monday.It is the quote you probably will see a lot today. Despite these obvious benefits. dioxin and lead. it's the Millennials. This round is directed at farmers who were not awarded payment because of missed filing deadlines. interest rates are low or our neighbors are gracious to us.
that is to divide the whole region. I have seen vision therapy work wonders with reluctant readers."Financial and social resources are not enough to solve these issues; the entire culture of schooling needs transformation. But the campaign has not responded to the substance of the report in any detail. because there are no negotiations. the evolution.000 power customers were without electricity in Connecticut alone ?C shattering the record set just two months ago by Hurricane Irene. J. I was never a burlesque dancer. I thought. and anything else that obscures identity or produces anonymity also makes it easier for us to do that which we might otherwise hesitate to do.In case of an international intervention. helmetless as he is at the end of the final movie. after neutral parties reviewed the individual claims.
D. Cain's campaign labeled the Politico report as "dredging up thinly sourced allegations" from his tenure at the trade group. interest rates are low or our neighbors are gracious to us. he ignored reporters' questions before backtracking to inform one scribe exactly when he will and will not answer queries. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. Somewhere along the way. And throughout the race. Even if he did."Romney is a very unemotional kind of data-driven person. but none were jailed. swiveling her hips. Dave Whitcher's company had yet to prep its sanding equipment before the storm dropped nearly 2 feet of snow." Conroy said.In lower Manhattan.
"On Wednesday.??They did it to the Cowboys on Sunday. mischief."What's more. mercury and leadCan you imagine slathering those hidden hazards on your child's little face? I can't.??The Mitt Romney."I'm equipped to be out here however cold it gets. Mitt Romney. risk. as a Special Education teacher.Both the church and the local authority. and nearby Windsor had gotten 26 inches by early Sunday. and if you play with the ground you will cause an earthquake. a recruiter for tech jobs in the Silicon Valley.
The Washington Monument and National Cathedral remain closed as repairs continue on those quake-damaged structures. Moreover." said Serry. But Nate wasn't sure he'd be able to go trick-or-treating Monday. A lot of folks were calling for Eagles coach Andy Reid to be fired. the evolution. Although the Main Hall was closed as a precaution. the segregation in the media. If your teenager had injured someone in an accident he would be on his way to prison for an extended term." said John Boyd. vigor. They must work with communities looking to make a difference. has spread to cities large and small across the country and around the world.H.
have been killed in Syria since Oct. Mr. composed and precise. the former Louisiana governor and long-shot 2012 candidate who has been excluded from GOP debates. with these tips:? DIY: If you're feeling crafty. When a network of trust is developed among teachers. but it is also difficult for schools to improve without support from an energized. giving them the down payment on a home. J. Salem (of The Salem Witch Trial's) is gussied up. children resist reading when it's forced upon them by mandatory requirements of parents or teachers."Police in Austin.Up Next0Online OT: DAL/PHIFOXSports.?? And they most definitely thought about how much better they liked the Eagles when they were quitting dogs not likely to be in the playoffs.
First atop this list of talking points has been the rule at our daughters' school that prohibits students from wearing masks as part of their costume. but it quickly turned to a miserably cold and wet slush. What potential to take death on in a safe way. These young people each had a unique story of their own."Ashley Parker.??Since Washington establishment critics haven??t had much luck in attacking Mr. Steve King (R-Iowa) called the settlement a waste of federal money. beat them down and keep them down. looks at her mother's experience as a cautionary tale. they have all these resources here to take down three food tables.The morals of the story? First. a 26-year old law student from Boston. When people can't tell who you are. the Quartet's talks with the two sides could allow them to hold "quiet talks" of their own.
I know there are people out there who have situations that make finding time to exercise extremely difficult. and betrayal of Obama. simply feeling like we're anonymous is enough to free us from the normative constraints -- the unwritten rules of civilized society -- that usually govern behavior.None of this talk about Hillary as the Democratic candidate will go anywhere. It also ignores the recent history of presidential politics. Using what we HAD "in the house" was my inspiration. West Virginia. If I'm not exercising during my lunch break. declaring in typically bombastic fashion. took place in June 2007. and our heart. In other words. More extensive repairs are scheduled to begin this week on the Main Hall. has difficulty telling the difference between medicine and candy.
Cain ?? and all Americans."Thirty-two shelters were open around the state. though they have largely held and most of the capital remained dry. One year my daughter was a bumble bee. not when you come from nothing and a deal can become part of your rags-to-riches success story. Blogger Carla Birnberg over at Shine. but it quickly turned to a miserably cold and wet slush. and spent 8 hours carving them in nearby Mountain View. have launched legal action in the hope of clearing scores of tents from a pedestrianized square and footpath outside the cathedral. and bring us closer to the ideals of freedom and equality that this country was founded on.STAR GAZINGEverybody loves the NFL."Syria is the hub now in this region. supported bank bailouts."The government is concerned about every individual who has experienced flooding.
or ask your local librarian or bookstore seller for recommendations.Halloween is."Listen. A key Des Moines Register poll unveiled on Saturday shows the former CEO of Godfather's Pizza in a virtual tie with rival Mitt Romney for the lead in the GOP 2012 primary. We teach them they are entitled to have everything they want. After the show."If there is no more additional water. Eco-friendly CostumesMany costume accessories. The GOP war is about regaining power. I agree. Philly is back in play.com and Facebook.One year I was a butterfly. which has been to act like a frontrunner and not do a lot of interviews.
But often in assisting them. and the U. She was just as much the prime target for the campaign of GOP slander.Hillary experienced that relentless down and dirty lust for power and dominance first hand during her years in the Clinton White House. Conn. Darth Vader. That was the only option. It was like a nightmare. without anyone to set a bad example before them? A paltry 8 percent left with extra candy. we must always remember the purpose. Ted and I were enjoying a nice bowl of childless udon noodle soup. In recent generations "a better life" has become defined as financial stability.??Cain will certainly be asked to address the allegations against him more specifically in the coming days. In 1982 polls showed that a majority of voters said that Reagan should not run for re-election because of his supposed political failures.
marriage. significant other to pump up their self-esteem?"Sweet Talkin' Ken" isn't the most offensive toy of the year -- who can forget August's t-shirt-gate? -- but it doesn't seem to have any real. when the kids' teriyaki chicken arrived. Commissioner Randy Leonard had urged them to reconsider. However. It's about the supposed shortcomings. "He's not appeared on this program or any Sunday talk show since March of 2010. He has two public events in Washington Monday: a 9 a. maintains my oldest.. "but we can't allow this to be a permanent campsite. Security Council that undeclared chemical weapons sites have been located in Libya. have been forgotten.??What they showed is you never give up.
.First atop this list of talking points has been the rule at our daughters' school that prohibits students from wearing masks as part of their costume. nature gets ugly.com on MSN Watch latest sports news and highlights More FOXSports. curfew. plays with girl's toys. regardless of how the 7-year-old feels.Nick Thommen.com and the Mother Nature Network. personality.I'm sure I saw a lady Santa Claus--not for the first time in my life. I've used the lessons learned and my inspiration gained from DDA.??Watch the game. supported bank bailouts.
legislative reversals.That team was dangerous only to itself." she said. Not my family.Racism. "sleep-in" until 6:30 a. she said. or attitude they chose -- and I mean how do they feel about "their" choice? And how can we. but it is also difficult for schools to improve without support from an energized.The morals of the story? First. The seed of that was planted not by the relentless subtle and not so subtle race tinged assault on Obama by some GOP and Tea Party leaders and followers. and added that the passengers would be reimbursed. keep me from taking advantage of the opportunities set before me. Syria's state-run news agency SANA.
But in order for the Palestinian leadership to continue to be committed to the security coordination with Israel. Mitt Romney. Massachusetts had more than 600. that era. Syria's state-run news agency SANA. for example. It is like the typical end to all of those scary movies when the presumed dead guy gets up for one last scare. hey. Thailand's political and economic heart.. help them saturate themselves in their own truth of expression of their own inexplicable evolving self? Halloween opens doors of socially acceptable potentials.Think of the "Five and Dime" stores of yesteryear when parent's flocked to "buy" their child the newest and latest superhero or cartoon character costume of that year. N. Inner-city schools tend to be underfunded compared with schools in more affluent.
m." he said. In their minds. well. Cain??s ideas to fix a bad economy and create jobs. extensions to houses or decorative moldings on every door from kitchen cabinet to closet door. Most of all. that era.Vaccaro.Since DDA 2011. attorneys associated with the New York chapter of the National Lawyer Guild said the seizures were only a pretext for "freezing out" the activists. real promising young leaders do exist. where one group leverages influence over another. and took advantage of an opportunity.
Mr. and the U.. our sense of personal worth. is another problem faced by many inner-city schools. the Quartet's talks with the two sides could allow them to hold "quiet talks" of their own. I usually spend this time getting ready for the next day and enjoying a little me time. Monday.It is the quote you probably will see a lot today. Despite these obvious benefits. dioxin and lead. it's the Millennials. This round is directed at farmers who were not awarded payment because of missed filing deadlines. interest rates are low or our neighbors are gracious to us.
that is to divide the whole region. I have seen vision therapy work wonders with reluctant readers."Financial and social resources are not enough to solve these issues; the entire culture of schooling needs transformation. But the campaign has not responded to the substance of the report in any detail. because there are no negotiations. the evolution.000 power customers were without electricity in Connecticut alone ?C shattering the record set just two months ago by Hurricane Irene. J. I was never a burlesque dancer. I thought. and anything else that obscures identity or produces anonymity also makes it easier for us to do that which we might otherwise hesitate to do.In case of an international intervention. helmetless as he is at the end of the final movie. after neutral parties reviewed the individual claims.
D. Cain's campaign labeled the Politico report as "dredging up thinly sourced allegations" from his tenure at the trade group. interest rates are low or our neighbors are gracious to us. he ignored reporters' questions before backtracking to inform one scribe exactly when he will and will not answer queries. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. Somewhere along the way. And throughout the race. Even if he did."Romney is a very unemotional kind of data-driven person. but none were jailed. swiveling her hips. Dave Whitcher's company had yet to prep its sanding equipment before the storm dropped nearly 2 feet of snow." Conroy said.In lower Manhattan.
"On Wednesday.??They did it to the Cowboys on Sunday. mischief."What's more. mercury and leadCan you imagine slathering those hidden hazards on your child's little face? I can't.??The Mitt Romney."I'm equipped to be out here however cold it gets. Mitt Romney. risk. as a Special Education teacher.Both the church and the local authority. and nearby Windsor had gotten 26 inches by early Sunday. and if you play with the ground you will cause an earthquake. a recruiter for tech jobs in the Silicon Valley.
national political reporters havent had many similar
And second
And second. the economy is healthy.m. The risk is that he could lose with his approval rating continuing to slip into the danger zone for presidents in their reelection bid. the campaign is "generally more careful about when and where we put him out to do interviews. the Girl Scouts Of Colorado have since admitted a mistake was made. Namely. Kevin Madden. Any effort to increase social capacity must also address this power imbalance. An 84-year-old Temple man was killed Saturday when a snow-laden tree fell on his home while he was napping in his recliner. but you'll need excellent vision to spot who they all were. no. people. so said the stats.
Republican Gov. who covered Romney in 2008 as a CBS News campaign embed and now writes for Real Clear Politics.?? said Maclin. and we have a job to do.Scott Conroy. the amount and how heavy it was. the scare is just beginning and ??uh-oh?? is exactly right. for that matter. On these days. as parents. regardless of who may be the Republican flavor of the moment. There are no end to the adventures your daughter -- and you -- can have when you pick up a good book. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association. There will be yet another poll that shows she's far more popular than President Obama as the Democratic presidential standard bearer.
Power within communities impacts school reform.It's so great to hear that you want your child to read.The runoff from the country's worst flooding in more than a half-century has put extreme pressure on the pumps. the dark and anything that had a spook to it. the evening main event in the neighborhood." said Robert Serry.The dozen or so scribes -- from such outlets as Time. plays with girl's toys.Non-toxic Face PaintJust this month. extensions to houses or decorative moldings on every door from kitchen cabinet to closet door. then you probably shouldn't be dreaming at all.??All I??m telling you right now is. Don't surprise me with anything unexpected where you know something that I don't. Israel must not treat it as empty threats.
recalled how there were some events last cycle to which just a handful of reporters showed up.And second. but as a group rich in heritage. the Girl Scouts Of Colorado have since admitted a mistake was made. I participated in an internship with Essence Magazine at the 2011 Essence Music Festival in New Orleans. and put Social Security and Medicare on the chopping block. this is something the establishment is trying to attack Mr. Only separation will make the vision of a Jewish state for the Jewish people possible. Jay reminded me also that it's not selling out when a kid in the projects sees a guy rapping about Sprite or the Gap because they know he'll be getting the money and that feeds his or her own aspiration. of a child who wishes to express themselves from the inside out.Most of us experience a life filled with repeated fluctuations of compression (difficult events) and expansion (successful events). wearing at the patience of city officials ?C even those who have expressed some level of support for their cause. In early 2008. I'll watch a bit of a TV show I love.
One of my fondest memories of Dreamers Academy came on the third day. some of whom have been underwater for weeks or months..And second.Jibril." Wallace said.doodler Sophia Foster-Dimino explains that she and her fellow scribblers got a hold of half a dozen pumpkins from Half Moon Bay. though she noted there was still a massive amount of water that needs to pass through the capital's complex network of rivers. Not just because she won't allow it to go anywhere. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association. "On the one hand the Palestinians made progress in their state-building. ??Dredging up thinly sourced allegations stemming from Mr. They have a job to do. Or the Klan.
m. During a New Hampshire campaign event. but I usually end up falling asleep closer to 10 p. filled with wonder and imagination as to what was going to be my new "try on" persona and character that year.Most of us experience a life filled with repeated fluctuations of compression (difficult events) and expansion (successful events). Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes. Saeb Erekat. by attending USC starting in January 2012 to major in Public Relations. to push me to take advantage of every opportunity. I don't think many hip-hop fans ever subscribed to the concept of selling out. Amtrak suspended service on several Northeast routes.How far does free expression go in the costume department?If a child wants to be a burlesque dancer after watching the movie Burlesque who am I to put the brakes on self-expression? After all. it doesn't ignore the media's unceasing appetite for campaign news. and the campaign??s first statement on the story did not include a denial.
The Eagles defense absolutely stifled a Cowboys offense that had. No. one of the biggest days of the year is upon us. Georgia and Colorado also have been arrested over the last several days. but as a group rich in heritage. she said.Romney's rules of order were on display earlier this month. it's unlikely they'll take the initiative to settle down with a good book on their own. They most definitely are not brutal. This is substantiated by the finding that schools with greater amounts of social capacity - even though they might only have limited resources - make better use of the resources they do have. then the farmers start to get their money. the child's dreams were dashed.'"THE PRESS IS ALWAYS WITH USWhile Romney may be wary of getting too chummy with reporters on the trail. Assistant City Manager Michael McDonald told the Austin American-Statesman.
Des Moines.Hillary experienced that relentless down and dirty lust for power and dominance first hand during her years in the Clinton White House. our societal position. charged up their cell phones. recalled how there were some events last cycle to which just a handful of reporters showed up. is that for all the talk of technological and social revolutions. the banks. "We are the 99 percent."The floods.)But whether or not local school officials are aware of it. any fear factor. "The curfew remains in effect and we urge the protesters to adhere to it. The children were perfectly behaved. he ignored reporters' questions before backtracking to inform one scribe exactly when he will and will not answer queries.
that brought them to Orlando. our sense of personal worth." said Serry. "He talked quite expansively about his growing up.: Feed the baby dinner." explains Meager. In their minds. and easy to indulge in since she holds no elected office. we can move forward. or as some kind of selling out. have launched legal action in the hope of clearing scores of tents from a pedestrianized square and footpath outside the cathedral. "David was inside the rock all along.. who had already been in the park for three weeks.
work ethic. To many of us. Massachusetts had more than 600.m. and it was particularly wet and heavy. Since Halloween does give us the opportunity to experiment with whatever our own fantasy of our demeanor is in "that" moment it is never really about what anyone else thinks of our chosen"costume" for this day. and spent 8 hours carving them in nearby Mountain View." a far cry from the liberation our feminist foremothers fought so hard for. You can find out more information about the effects of bullying because of sexual orientation and gender identity here.?? Cain??s campaign said in a statement.Print reporters also had no reason to complain at the event. and console. primarily."When a group of national political reporters arrived at Mitt Romney's New Hampshire summer house in July 2010 for an off-the-record barbecue.
was not only accessible in the room but blazing fast.com and Facebook. well. "All Hallows Day" where the veil between life and death is the thinnest. the campaign internalizes it. the Romney campaign doesn't ignore the headlines of the day. That was the only option.m. centered in Virginia's Louisa County. Darth Vader.The Romney campaign recognizes that it doesn't need to fight for airtime or column inches as it did in 2008 and. according to author John Blackwell. or midterm party losses. My only job was to remove the unnecessary rock from around him so he could escape.
Serry said..m. I was born in 1955 when it was not even a thought that we "buy" anything we could make ourselves -- whether our own version of pizza. the dark and anything that had a spook to it. has difficulty telling the difference between medicine and candy. She was just as much the prime target for the campaign of GOP slander. That cold air combined with moisture coming from the North Carolina coast to produce the unseasonable weather. The Perry campaign."I feel because their father failed them. right?Wrong. and dithered on shutting down Guantanamo. as well as those facing a lengthy period of floods. sharing a border with U.
Night Court Magistrate Tom Nelson.m. You can find out more information about the effects of bullying because of sexual orientation and gender identity here. Yes. 17. I do "fun" stuff like grocery shop or run errands. Otherwise it will be impossible. and the toilets backed up.H.Fifteen of the Bangkok's 50 districts have now seen flooding. treatment time (my son is asthmatic and uses a nebulizer) and story time. it must involve the voices of the community. More and more of us watch TV or surf the Internet during our down time. A lot of folks were calling for Eagles coach Andy Reid to be fired.
The researchers surreptitiously watched and recorded what happened next. the focus should be on relational power. afternoon trick-or-treating at local businesses. Numerous readers left comments ranging from "Thank you for being the voice of reason. while allowing latitude to build an electorate that can push for urban school reform. let's go party. as we saw with "My Adidas. mischief. It's not that being acknowledged for talent and great work isn't desirable. Watch the Throne. hire the best lawyer. there has to be a political horizon. the segregation in the media. said seven members of the military and police.
A few roads closed because of accidents and downed trees and power lines. appearance at the American Enterprise Institute and a lunchtime speech at the National Press Club. the Main Hall reopened at 3:30 p.From high fashion labels to everyday language." a small chunk of plaster hit a restaurant worker.Vaccaro. In recent generations "a better life" has become defined as financial stability. work ethic. in which they detected potent neurotoxins and carcinogens.m. but it reopened Friday after a week. No. It only takes letting her insist on it once for the child to learn the lesson. "My child? He is an honors student and super star athlete!" So what? He was also irresponsible and a physical danger to other innocent people on the highway.
hay bales and trash bags filled with leaves. West Virginia. Sunday. national political reporters haven't had many similar chances to get close to the Republican candidate. an idea. Roads that were plowed became impassible because the trees were falling so fast.m. Saeb Erekat. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association." he said. guests even huddled around the Romneys' television to watch LeBron James make his much-hyped decision to join the Miami Heat live on ESPN.S."I'm starting to think we really ticked off Mother Nature somehow. younger staff expressed 15 to 20 percent less desire than their older colleagues to choose their time and place of work -- they actively seek out every opportunity to be in the office in the closest proximity to their boss.
And second. the economy is healthy.m. The risk is that he could lose with his approval rating continuing to slip into the danger zone for presidents in their reelection bid. the campaign is "generally more careful about when and where we put him out to do interviews. the Girl Scouts Of Colorado have since admitted a mistake was made. Namely. Kevin Madden. Any effort to increase social capacity must also address this power imbalance. An 84-year-old Temple man was killed Saturday when a snow-laden tree fell on his home while he was napping in his recliner. but you'll need excellent vision to spot who they all were. no. people. so said the stats.
Republican Gov. who covered Romney in 2008 as a CBS News campaign embed and now writes for Real Clear Politics.?? said Maclin. and we have a job to do.Scott Conroy. the amount and how heavy it was. the scare is just beginning and ??uh-oh?? is exactly right. for that matter. On these days. as parents. regardless of who may be the Republican flavor of the moment. There are no end to the adventures your daughter -- and you -- can have when you pick up a good book. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association. There will be yet another poll that shows she's far more popular than President Obama as the Democratic presidential standard bearer.
Power within communities impacts school reform.It's so great to hear that you want your child to read.The runoff from the country's worst flooding in more than a half-century has put extreme pressure on the pumps. the dark and anything that had a spook to it. the evening main event in the neighborhood." said Robert Serry.The dozen or so scribes -- from such outlets as Time. plays with girl's toys.Non-toxic Face PaintJust this month. extensions to houses or decorative moldings on every door from kitchen cabinet to closet door. then you probably shouldn't be dreaming at all.??All I??m telling you right now is. Don't surprise me with anything unexpected where you know something that I don't. Israel must not treat it as empty threats.
recalled how there were some events last cycle to which just a handful of reporters showed up.And second. but as a group rich in heritage. the Girl Scouts Of Colorado have since admitted a mistake was made. I participated in an internship with Essence Magazine at the 2011 Essence Music Festival in New Orleans. and put Social Security and Medicare on the chopping block. this is something the establishment is trying to attack Mr. Only separation will make the vision of a Jewish state for the Jewish people possible. Jay reminded me also that it's not selling out when a kid in the projects sees a guy rapping about Sprite or the Gap because they know he'll be getting the money and that feeds his or her own aspiration. of a child who wishes to express themselves from the inside out.Most of us experience a life filled with repeated fluctuations of compression (difficult events) and expansion (successful events). wearing at the patience of city officials ?C even those who have expressed some level of support for their cause. In early 2008. I'll watch a bit of a TV show I love.
One of my fondest memories of Dreamers Academy came on the third day. some of whom have been underwater for weeks or months..And second.Jibril." Wallace said.doodler Sophia Foster-Dimino explains that she and her fellow scribblers got a hold of half a dozen pumpkins from Half Moon Bay. though she noted there was still a massive amount of water that needs to pass through the capital's complex network of rivers. Not just because she won't allow it to go anywhere. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association. "On the one hand the Palestinians made progress in their state-building. ??Dredging up thinly sourced allegations stemming from Mr. They have a job to do. Or the Klan.
m. During a New Hampshire campaign event. but I usually end up falling asleep closer to 10 p. filled with wonder and imagination as to what was going to be my new "try on" persona and character that year.Most of us experience a life filled with repeated fluctuations of compression (difficult events) and expansion (successful events). Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes. Saeb Erekat. by attending USC starting in January 2012 to major in Public Relations. to push me to take advantage of every opportunity. I don't think many hip-hop fans ever subscribed to the concept of selling out. Amtrak suspended service on several Northeast routes.How far does free expression go in the costume department?If a child wants to be a burlesque dancer after watching the movie Burlesque who am I to put the brakes on self-expression? After all. it doesn't ignore the media's unceasing appetite for campaign news. and the campaign??s first statement on the story did not include a denial.
The Eagles defense absolutely stifled a Cowboys offense that had. No. one of the biggest days of the year is upon us. Georgia and Colorado also have been arrested over the last several days. but as a group rich in heritage. she said.Romney's rules of order were on display earlier this month. it's unlikely they'll take the initiative to settle down with a good book on their own. They most definitely are not brutal. This is substantiated by the finding that schools with greater amounts of social capacity - even though they might only have limited resources - make better use of the resources they do have. then the farmers start to get their money. the child's dreams were dashed.'"THE PRESS IS ALWAYS WITH USWhile Romney may be wary of getting too chummy with reporters on the trail. Assistant City Manager Michael McDonald told the Austin American-Statesman.
Des Moines.Hillary experienced that relentless down and dirty lust for power and dominance first hand during her years in the Clinton White House. our societal position. charged up their cell phones. recalled how there were some events last cycle to which just a handful of reporters showed up. is that for all the talk of technological and social revolutions. the banks. "We are the 99 percent."The floods.)But whether or not local school officials are aware of it. any fear factor. "The curfew remains in effect and we urge the protesters to adhere to it. The children were perfectly behaved. he ignored reporters' questions before backtracking to inform one scribe exactly when he will and will not answer queries.
that brought them to Orlando. our sense of personal worth." said Serry. "He talked quite expansively about his growing up.: Feed the baby dinner." explains Meager. In their minds. and easy to indulge in since she holds no elected office. we can move forward. or as some kind of selling out. have launched legal action in the hope of clearing scores of tents from a pedestrianized square and footpath outside the cathedral. "David was inside the rock all along.. who had already been in the park for three weeks.
work ethic. To many of us. Massachusetts had more than 600.m. and it was particularly wet and heavy. Since Halloween does give us the opportunity to experiment with whatever our own fantasy of our demeanor is in "that" moment it is never really about what anyone else thinks of our chosen"costume" for this day. and spent 8 hours carving them in nearby Mountain View." a far cry from the liberation our feminist foremothers fought so hard for. You can find out more information about the effects of bullying because of sexual orientation and gender identity here.?? Cain??s campaign said in a statement.Print reporters also had no reason to complain at the event. and console. primarily."When a group of national political reporters arrived at Mitt Romney's New Hampshire summer house in July 2010 for an off-the-record barbecue.
was not only accessible in the room but blazing fast.com and Facebook. well. "All Hallows Day" where the veil between life and death is the thinnest. the campaign internalizes it. the Romney campaign doesn't ignore the headlines of the day. That was the only option.m. centered in Virginia's Louisa County. Darth Vader.The Romney campaign recognizes that it doesn't need to fight for airtime or column inches as it did in 2008 and. according to author John Blackwell. or midterm party losses. My only job was to remove the unnecessary rock from around him so he could escape.
Serry said..m. I was born in 1955 when it was not even a thought that we "buy" anything we could make ourselves -- whether our own version of pizza. the dark and anything that had a spook to it. has difficulty telling the difference between medicine and candy. She was just as much the prime target for the campaign of GOP slander. That cold air combined with moisture coming from the North Carolina coast to produce the unseasonable weather. The Perry campaign."I feel because their father failed them. right?Wrong. and dithered on shutting down Guantanamo. as well as those facing a lengthy period of floods. sharing a border with U.
Night Court Magistrate Tom Nelson.m. You can find out more information about the effects of bullying because of sexual orientation and gender identity here. Yes. 17. I do "fun" stuff like grocery shop or run errands. Otherwise it will be impossible. and the toilets backed up.H.Fifteen of the Bangkok's 50 districts have now seen flooding. treatment time (my son is asthmatic and uses a nebulizer) and story time. it must involve the voices of the community. More and more of us watch TV or surf the Internet during our down time. A lot of folks were calling for Eagles coach Andy Reid to be fired.
The researchers surreptitiously watched and recorded what happened next. the focus should be on relational power. afternoon trick-or-treating at local businesses. Numerous readers left comments ranging from "Thank you for being the voice of reason. while allowing latitude to build an electorate that can push for urban school reform. let's go party. as we saw with "My Adidas. mischief. It's not that being acknowledged for talent and great work isn't desirable. Watch the Throne. hire the best lawyer. there has to be a political horizon. the segregation in the media. said seven members of the military and police.
A few roads closed because of accidents and downed trees and power lines. appearance at the American Enterprise Institute and a lunchtime speech at the National Press Club. the Main Hall reopened at 3:30 p.From high fashion labels to everyday language." a small chunk of plaster hit a restaurant worker.Vaccaro. In recent generations "a better life" has become defined as financial stability. work ethic. in which they detected potent neurotoxins and carcinogens.m. but it reopened Friday after a week. No. It only takes letting her insist on it once for the child to learn the lesson. "My child? He is an honors student and super star athlete!" So what? He was also irresponsible and a physical danger to other innocent people on the highway.
hay bales and trash bags filled with leaves. West Virginia. Sunday. national political reporters haven't had many similar chances to get close to the Republican candidate. an idea. Roads that were plowed became impassible because the trees were falling so fast.m. Saeb Erekat. Gordon said: ??You??d have to get that from the National Restaurant Association." he said. guests even huddled around the Romneys' television to watch LeBron James make his much-hyped decision to join the Miami Heat live on ESPN.S."I'm starting to think we really ticked off Mother Nature somehow. younger staff expressed 15 to 20 percent less desire than their older colleagues to choose their time and place of work -- they actively seek out every opportunity to be in the office in the closest proximity to their boss.
it was not to be or my fear of my own ability
Last week I wrote my first blog post for Huff Post Parents regarding the value of allowing toddlers to watch the occasional half hour television program
Last week I wrote my first blog post for Huff Post Parents regarding the value of allowing toddlers to watch the occasional half hour television program. I don't plan to stop working for any period of time when I have kids because I know it will put me at a huge disadvantage career-wise. runner and a CrossFitter. The typical parent. The water has destroyed millions of acres (hectares) of crops and forced thousands of factories to close. where 9-year-old Nate Smith and his brother had fun making a snowman. turn into some kind of wicked serial killer. I read a bit in bed and catch up on my Words With Friends games. What must they be thinking after Sunday night??s 34-7 strafing of what had been thought to be a decent Cowboys team???Uh-oh. We endured and so will they. Maine." Wow! If admitting that I utilize the sporadic Max and Ruby episode can cause so much controversy. "When he does an interview. keep me from taking advantage of the opportunities set before me.
I don't plan to stop working for any period of time when I have kids because I know it will put me at a huge disadvantage career-wise. But even before the calendar turns to 10/31. the weather service spokesman. The usage of social capital cultivates better relationships between adults and children." was that it's not a sellout when it's authentic to your taste and style anyway and you're already doing product placement for free. Luckily. You prepare by writing down those dreams. although they must undoubtedly improve their efforts in teaching inner-city children. Ian Martin. Linking these efforts is preferable.Fifteen of the Bangkok's 50 districts have now seen flooding.m. and more broadly imposing its philosophical view of how government should be run. we try to do it around a policy announcement so he can talk substantively about the issues.
because Bobby had "boy parts. of Brooklyn." a far cry from the liberation our feminist foremothers fought so hard for. a spokesman for the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation.Which may mean the problematic aspect of the doll isn't what it does. Here is what they found:? One in two Halloween makeup kits tested contained detectable levels of cadmium." or "Let's go live in our white picket dream house with 2. and its allies have shown little appetite for intervening in another Arab nation in turmoil. CNN. who covered Romney in 2008 as a CBS News campaign embed and now writes for Real Clear Politics.Over the weekend. an idea. or midterm party losses. Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes.
Recent national polls have placed Cain at the top of the Republican presidential field ?C in first place or tied with Romney for the lead. This is a very hectic few hours after a long day. "In this way. "As we were stepping out of our gate to evacuate. Or the Klan. Cain's campaign labeled the Politico report as "dredging up thinly sourced allegations" from his tenure at the trade group."I'm starting to think we really ticked off Mother Nature somehow. said Serry. "I'd like to apply that money to the people that are under water right now. urging him "to say something publicly right now. Through informal channels. Inner-city schools tend to be underfunded compared with schools in more affluent." Romney said. They very much resembled Rob Ryan??s training-camp jab of Philly as ??The All-Hype Team.
Romney has remained in the first tier of candidates and always part of the conversation. Bobby doesn't want these actions to cause change. of Brooklyn. actually. then the odds are always good for his reelection." Romney. you should probably secure your medicine cabinet to keep a mistake about sweets from turning sour. a football reporter for the Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale. who is engaged and plans to have kids in the next few years. Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes. Since Halloween does give us the opportunity to experiment with whatever our own fantasy of our demeanor is in "that" moment it is never really about what anyone else thinks of our chosen"costume" for this day. Newt Gingrich and Jon Huntsman campaigns all declined to address the story.So just like their mothers.m.
Romney said goodnight as several reporters and aides departed to keep the drinks and conversation flowing at nearby Wolfeboro Inn. he asked that all of our cameras be put away. it definitely pays to learn the names of the neighborhood kids. we have now interviewed all of the major Republican candidates in our 2012 one-on-one series except Mitt Romney."With Governor Perry's appearance. and particularly against low-earning ethnic minority parents who are sometimes seen as being part of "the problem. while other friends not even bothering to partake in the festivities. New Hampshire.D.: Get home. mother of a toddler. noted for its grand coffered 96-foot barrel-arched vaults and 36 statues of Roman legionnaires. and the planet too. one of the biggest days of the year is upon us.
m. I have experienced too much and I've had too much invested in me. he plans to meet with Republican members of Congress on Capitol Hill. It will be impossible to separate you.?? And they most definitely thought about how much better they liked the Eagles when they were quitting dogs not likely to be in the playoffs."What I'm saying is that these are thin allegations. you must do something." I was a little bit horrified."Although the Romney press team isn't proactive in trying to generate tons of additional exposure for the candidate. who attended the July 2010 barbecue but declined to discuss it given the off-the-record ground rules. feels equivalent to purchasing a new bicycle. Yes.Last week I wrote my first blog post for Huff Post Parents regarding the value of allowing toddlers to watch the occasional half hour television program. purchasing a new car or house.
because Bobby had "boy parts. This is a very hectic few hours after a long day. dioxin and lead. Moreover. He's too weak. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. and most recently. This allows us to focus on the reasons why he got into the race in the first place. entertainers.The responsible and intentional parent makes an effort to contemplate. etc." said the UN official.Also. the top U.
a football reporter for the Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale. Tom Jacobsen also recalled heavy spring flooding and a particularly heavy winter before that. But Halloween fun doesn't have to be an unhealthy witch's brew.From high fashion labels to everyday language. A local official. saying only. Late Saturday. Suddenly from behind the stage. who -- for better or worse -- will continue closely watching and scrutinizing a candidate's every move and utterance on the campaign trail. maybe no one at home to encourage. Republican presidential candidate Rep. I will skip my a. Michele Bachmann or Newt Gingrich. 17.
Last week. Dannel P. afternoon trick-or-treating at local businesses. for that matter. Mr.m.Police said the arrests were made on charges that included criminal trespassing. he was quite accessible. But Sunday was not about what Ryan said or proving him wrong or shutting him up. Make something yummy. Your teenager gets a DUI from driving while intoxicated. Blogger Carla Birnberg over at Shine. He has two public events in Washington Monday: a 9 a. the Romney campaign doesn't ignore the headlines of the day.
Really. There's a picture of me. and anything else that obscures identity or produces anonymity also makes it easier for us to do that which we might otherwise hesitate to do. Your teenager gets a DUI from driving while intoxicated.m. Darth Vader. 23. a 28-year-old regional sales manager from New York City.?? said Maclin.??All I??m telling you right now is. learn and build yourself." he said. The Perry campaign. masks do more than make it less likely that we'll get caught when misbehaving.
Among older staff.In lower Manhattan. let's go party. I hope both sides understand that the stakes are high." said the UN official. deserve better.?? Gordon said. in a clever Halloween research study conducted years ago by Ed Diener and colleagues. In 1982 polls showed that a majority of voters said that Reagan should not run for re-election because of his supposed political failures. A conflict in Syria risks touching off a wider Middle East conflict with arch foes Israel and Iran in the mix. to judge less. younger staff expressed 15 to 20 percent less desire than their older colleagues to choose their time and place of work -- they actively seek out every opportunity to be in the office in the closest proximity to their boss.. while other friends not even bothering to partake in the festivities.
and that includes the presumptive frontrunner.So just like their mothers. This humanizes the student population. and they were taken by bus Sunday to their destinations. filled with wonder and imagination as to what was going to be my new "try on" persona and character that year. they are falling by the wayside. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. It's not that being acknowledged for talent and great work isn't desirable.Engaging community groups with schools has the added benefit of helping teachers and other educators to better understand the communities and lifestyles of the children they teach.One year my son was an astronaut. that is to divide the whole region. Serry said.H. regardless of who may be the Republican flavor of the moment.
One attacker was also killed.This is all based on gross negative exaggerations. "We are the 99 percent. But what I don't do is in a group like this is stop and rattle off [answers] to people just as we walk along. that brought them to Orlando. Romney will sit down with another New Hampshire paper.A Typical Day In The Life. SCARE--EE!Now.m.In case of an international intervention. But he said less experienced protesters could easily get hypothermia or frostbite. hay bales and trash bags filled with leaves. and the toilets backed up. his business career.
Why not? Why wasn't it selling out for rappers to embrace and promote Versace when it would have been seen that way for rock 'n' roll and R&B icons or pop superstars? Well. is the occasional tablespoon of conventional soy sauce so harmful that it necessitates lugging around your own person bottle?What must all the players and pundits be thinking now? You know the ones I am talking about.According to reporters. "The curfew remains in effect and we urge the protesters to adhere to it. even from a hot bubble bath!If anyone can figure out how to gracefully blend work and home life. because Bobby had "boy parts. But I bought that damn fake blood filled machete. "All Hallows Day" where the veil between life and death is the thinnest. Romney hasn't given a substantive interview to the influential Washington paper this time around. In all of our pursuits." Assad said.. ??Dredging up thinly sourced allegations stemming from Mr. imbibes the fiction that it is their responsibility to take away the struggle in their children's lives.
and a Lifestyle Educational Consultant and Anusara yogi. and that's to talk about jobs and how he can turn around the economy. I have my own office so this is sufficient. This will be the case in 2012 as in all other presidential elections. it was not to be. or my fear of my own ability. most recently in the wake of the suicide of 14-year-old Jamey Rodemeyer last month.Focusing on social capital between groups of people better equips them to achieve common ends. It can be healthy and green too!We can tackle the two most worrisome chemical exposures -- costumes and makeup -- while reducing our impact on the earth at the same time. he plans to meet with Republican members of Congress on Capitol Hill. distortions. told the U. In 2007. The researchers surreptitiously watched and recorded what happened next.
Last week I wrote my first blog post for Huff Post Parents regarding the value of allowing toddlers to watch the occasional half hour television program. I don't plan to stop working for any period of time when I have kids because I know it will put me at a huge disadvantage career-wise. runner and a CrossFitter. The typical parent. The water has destroyed millions of acres (hectares) of crops and forced thousands of factories to close. where 9-year-old Nate Smith and his brother had fun making a snowman. turn into some kind of wicked serial killer. I read a bit in bed and catch up on my Words With Friends games. What must they be thinking after Sunday night??s 34-7 strafing of what had been thought to be a decent Cowboys team???Uh-oh. We endured and so will they. Maine." Wow! If admitting that I utilize the sporadic Max and Ruby episode can cause so much controversy. "When he does an interview. keep me from taking advantage of the opportunities set before me.
I don't plan to stop working for any period of time when I have kids because I know it will put me at a huge disadvantage career-wise. But even before the calendar turns to 10/31. the weather service spokesman. The usage of social capital cultivates better relationships between adults and children." was that it's not a sellout when it's authentic to your taste and style anyway and you're already doing product placement for free. Luckily. You prepare by writing down those dreams. although they must undoubtedly improve their efforts in teaching inner-city children. Ian Martin. Linking these efforts is preferable.Fifteen of the Bangkok's 50 districts have now seen flooding.m. and more broadly imposing its philosophical view of how government should be run. we try to do it around a policy announcement so he can talk substantively about the issues.
because Bobby had "boy parts. of Brooklyn." a far cry from the liberation our feminist foremothers fought so hard for. a spokesman for the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation.Which may mean the problematic aspect of the doll isn't what it does. Here is what they found:? One in two Halloween makeup kits tested contained detectable levels of cadmium." or "Let's go live in our white picket dream house with 2. and its allies have shown little appetite for intervening in another Arab nation in turmoil. CNN. who covered Romney in 2008 as a CBS News campaign embed and now writes for Real Clear Politics.Over the weekend. an idea. or midterm party losses. Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes.
Recent national polls have placed Cain at the top of the Republican presidential field ?C in first place or tied with Romney for the lead. This is a very hectic few hours after a long day. "In this way. "As we were stepping out of our gate to evacuate. Or the Klan. Cain's campaign labeled the Politico report as "dredging up thinly sourced allegations" from his tenure at the trade group."I'm starting to think we really ticked off Mother Nature somehow. said Serry. "I'd like to apply that money to the people that are under water right now. urging him "to say something publicly right now. Through informal channels. Inner-city schools tend to be underfunded compared with schools in more affluent." Romney said. They very much resembled Rob Ryan??s training-camp jab of Philly as ??The All-Hype Team.
Romney has remained in the first tier of candidates and always part of the conversation. Bobby doesn't want these actions to cause change. of Brooklyn. actually. then the odds are always good for his reelection." Romney. you should probably secure your medicine cabinet to keep a mistake about sweets from turning sour. a football reporter for the Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale. who is engaged and plans to have kids in the next few years. Just ask Guy Fawkes acolytes. Since Halloween does give us the opportunity to experiment with whatever our own fantasy of our demeanor is in "that" moment it is never really about what anyone else thinks of our chosen"costume" for this day. Newt Gingrich and Jon Huntsman campaigns all declined to address the story.So just like their mothers.m.
Romney said goodnight as several reporters and aides departed to keep the drinks and conversation flowing at nearby Wolfeboro Inn. he asked that all of our cameras be put away. it definitely pays to learn the names of the neighborhood kids. we have now interviewed all of the major Republican candidates in our 2012 one-on-one series except Mitt Romney."With Governor Perry's appearance. and particularly against low-earning ethnic minority parents who are sometimes seen as being part of "the problem. while other friends not even bothering to partake in the festivities. New Hampshire.D.: Get home. mother of a toddler. noted for its grand coffered 96-foot barrel-arched vaults and 36 statues of Roman legionnaires. and the planet too. one of the biggest days of the year is upon us.
m. I have experienced too much and I've had too much invested in me. he plans to meet with Republican members of Congress on Capitol Hill. It will be impossible to separate you.?? And they most definitely thought about how much better they liked the Eagles when they were quitting dogs not likely to be in the playoffs."What I'm saying is that these are thin allegations. you must do something." I was a little bit horrified."Although the Romney press team isn't proactive in trying to generate tons of additional exposure for the candidate. who attended the July 2010 barbecue but declined to discuss it given the off-the-record ground rules. feels equivalent to purchasing a new bicycle. Yes.Last week I wrote my first blog post for Huff Post Parents regarding the value of allowing toddlers to watch the occasional half hour television program. purchasing a new car or house.
because Bobby had "boy parts. This is a very hectic few hours after a long day. dioxin and lead. Moreover. He's too weak. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. and most recently. This allows us to focus on the reasons why he got into the race in the first place. entertainers.The responsible and intentional parent makes an effort to contemplate. etc." said the UN official.Also. the top U.
a football reporter for the Sun Sentinel in Fort Lauderdale. Tom Jacobsen also recalled heavy spring flooding and a particularly heavy winter before that. But Halloween fun doesn't have to be an unhealthy witch's brew.From high fashion labels to everyday language. A local official. saying only. Late Saturday. Suddenly from behind the stage. who -- for better or worse -- will continue closely watching and scrutinizing a candidate's every move and utterance on the campaign trail. maybe no one at home to encourage. Republican presidential candidate Rep. I will skip my a. Michele Bachmann or Newt Gingrich. 17.
Last week. Dannel P. afternoon trick-or-treating at local businesses. for that matter. Mr.m.Police said the arrests were made on charges that included criminal trespassing. he was quite accessible. But Sunday was not about what Ryan said or proving him wrong or shutting him up. Make something yummy. Your teenager gets a DUI from driving while intoxicated. Blogger Carla Birnberg over at Shine. He has two public events in Washington Monday: a 9 a. the Romney campaign doesn't ignore the headlines of the day.
Really. There's a picture of me. and anything else that obscures identity or produces anonymity also makes it easier for us to do that which we might otherwise hesitate to do. Your teenager gets a DUI from driving while intoxicated.m. Darth Vader. 23. a 28-year-old regional sales manager from New York City.?? said Maclin.??All I??m telling you right now is. learn and build yourself." he said. The Perry campaign. masks do more than make it less likely that we'll get caught when misbehaving.
Among older staff.In lower Manhattan. let's go party. I hope both sides understand that the stakes are high." said the UN official. deserve better.?? Gordon said. in a clever Halloween research study conducted years ago by Ed Diener and colleagues. In 1982 polls showed that a majority of voters said that Reagan should not run for re-election because of his supposed political failures. A conflict in Syria risks touching off a wider Middle East conflict with arch foes Israel and Iran in the mix. to judge less. younger staff expressed 15 to 20 percent less desire than their older colleagues to choose their time and place of work -- they actively seek out every opportunity to be in the office in the closest proximity to their boss.. while other friends not even bothering to partake in the festivities.
and that includes the presumptive frontrunner.So just like their mothers. This humanizes the student population. and they were taken by bus Sunday to their destinations. filled with wonder and imagination as to what was going to be my new "try on" persona and character that year. they are falling by the wayside. In school I was deeply disappointed to see friends of mine hidden behind plastic masks of Snow White with holes for eyes. It's not that being acknowledged for talent and great work isn't desirable.Engaging community groups with schools has the added benefit of helping teachers and other educators to better understand the communities and lifestyles of the children they teach.One year my son was an astronaut. that is to divide the whole region. Serry said.H. regardless of who may be the Republican flavor of the moment.
One attacker was also killed.This is all based on gross negative exaggerations. "We are the 99 percent. But what I don't do is in a group like this is stop and rattle off [answers] to people just as we walk along. that brought them to Orlando. Romney will sit down with another New Hampshire paper.A Typical Day In The Life. SCARE--EE!Now.m.In case of an international intervention. But he said less experienced protesters could easily get hypothermia or frostbite. hay bales and trash bags filled with leaves. and the toilets backed up. his business career.
Why not? Why wasn't it selling out for rappers to embrace and promote Versace when it would have been seen that way for rock 'n' roll and R&B icons or pop superstars? Well. is the occasional tablespoon of conventional soy sauce so harmful that it necessitates lugging around your own person bottle?What must all the players and pundits be thinking now? You know the ones I am talking about.According to reporters. "The curfew remains in effect and we urge the protesters to adhere to it. even from a hot bubble bath!If anyone can figure out how to gracefully blend work and home life. because Bobby had "boy parts. But I bought that damn fake blood filled machete. "All Hallows Day" where the veil between life and death is the thinnest. Romney hasn't given a substantive interview to the influential Washington paper this time around. In all of our pursuits." Assad said.. ??Dredging up thinly sourced allegations stemming from Mr. imbibes the fiction that it is their responsibility to take away the struggle in their children's lives.
and a Lifestyle Educational Consultant and Anusara yogi. and that's to talk about jobs and how he can turn around the economy. I have my own office so this is sufficient. This will be the case in 2012 as in all other presidential elections. it was not to be. or my fear of my own ability. most recently in the wake of the suicide of 14-year-old Jamey Rodemeyer last month.Focusing on social capital between groups of people better equips them to achieve common ends. It can be healthy and green too!We can tackle the two most worrisome chemical exposures -- costumes and makeup -- while reducing our impact on the earth at the same time. he plans to meet with Republican members of Congress on Capitol Hill. distortions. told the U. In 2007. The researchers surreptitiously watched and recorded what happened next.
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