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.''Ms Bloomwood, this is Erica Parnell from Endwich Bank,' says the voice, and I freeze.Shit.It's the bank.Oh God, they sent me that letter, didn't they, and I never did anything about it.What am I going to say? Quick, what am I going to say?'Ms Bloomwood?' says Erica Parnell.OK what I'll say is, I'm fully aware that my overdraft is slightly larger than it should be, and I'mplanning to take remedial action within the next few days.Yes, that sounds good.'Remedial action'sounds very good.OK go.Firmly I tell myself not to panic these people are human and take a big breath.And then, in oneseamless, unplanned movement, my hand puts down the receiver.I stare at the silent phone for a fewseconds, not quite able to believe what I've just done.What did I do that for? Erica Parnell knew it wasme, didn't she? Any minute, she'll ring back.She's probably pressing redial now, and she'll be reallyhttp://www.fictionbook.ru/author/kinsella_sophie/the_secret_dreamworld_of_a_shopaholi.3/16/2006 The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic Page 36 of 140angry&Quickly I take the phone off the hook and hide it under a cushion.Now she can't get me.I'm safe.'Who was that?' says Suze, coming into the room.'No-one,' I say, feeling slightly shaky.'Just a wrong& Listen, let's not have drinks here.Let's go out!''Oh,' says Suze.'OK!''Much more fun,' I gabble, trying to head her away from the phone.'We can go to some really nice barand have cocktails, and then go on to Terrazza.'What I'll do in future, I'm thinking, is screen all my calls.Or answer in a foreign accent.Or, evenbetter, change the number.Go ex-directory.'What's going on?' says Fenella, appearing at the door.'Nothing!' I hear myself say.'We're going out for a titchy and then on to sups.'Oh, I don't believe it.I'm turning into one of them.As we arrive at Terrazza, I'm feeling a lot calmer.Of course, Erica Parnell will have thought we werecut off by a fault on the line or something.She'll never have thought I put the phone down on her.Imean, we're two civilized adults, aren't we? Adults just don't do things like that.And if I ever meet her which I hope to God I never do I'll just keep very cool and say, 'It was oddwhat happened, that time you phoned me, wasn't it?' Or even better, I'll accuse her of putting the phonedown on me (in a joky way, of course).Terrazza is full, buzzing with people and cigarette smoke and chatter, and as we sit down with ourhuge silver menus I feel myself relax even more.I love eating out.And I reckon I deserve a real treat,after being so frugal over the last few days.It hasn't been easy, keeping to such a tight regime, butsomehow I've managed it.And I'm keeping to it so well! On Saturday I'm going to monitor my spendingpattern again and I'm sure it'll have gone down by at least 70 per cent.'What shall we have to drink?' says Suze.'Tarquin, you choose.''Oh look!' shrieks Fenella.'There's Eddie Lazenby! I must just say hello.' She leaps to her feet andmakes for a balding guy in a blazer, ten tables away.How she spotted him in this throng, I've no idea.'Suze!' cries another voice, and we all look up.A blond girl in a tiny pastel-pink suit is headingtowards our table, arms stretched out for a hug.'And Tarkie!''Hello, Tory,' says Tarquin, getting to his feet.'How's Mungo?''He's over there!' says Tory.'You must come and say hello!'How is it that Fenella and Tarquin spend most of their time in the middle of Perthshire but theminute they set foot in London, they're besieged by long-lost friends?'Eddie says hi,' announces Fenella, returning to the table.'Tory! How are you? How's Mungo?''Oh, he's fine,' says Tory: 'But listen, have you heard? Caspar's back in town!''No!' everyone exclaims, and I'm almost tempted to join in.No-one has bothered to introduce me toTory but that's the way it goes with these people.You join the gang by osmosis.One minute you're acomplete stranger, the next you're shrieking away with the rest of them, going, 'Did you hear aboutVenetia and Sebastian?''Look, we must order,' says Suze.'We'll come and say hello in a minute, Tory.''OK, ciao,' says Tory, and she sashays off.'Suze!' cries another voice, and a girl in a little black dress comes rushing up.'And Fenny!''Milla!' they both cry.'How are you? How's Benjy?'Oh, God, it just doesn't stop.Here I am, staring at the menu pretending to be really interested in thestarters but really feeling like some utter loser that no one wants to talk to while bloody Fenella andTarquin are Socialites of the Year.It's not fair.I want to table-hop, too.I want to bump into old friendsI've known since babyhood.(Although to be honest, the only person I've known that long is Tom fromnext door, and he'll be in his limed oak kitchen in Reigate.)But just in case, I lower my menu and gaze hopefully around the restaurant.Please, God, just once, letthere be someone I recognize
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