Shopaholic & Sister: A Novel
Shopaholic & Sister: A Novel
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What’s a round-the-world honeymoon if you can’t buy the odd souvenir to ship back home? Like the twenty silk dressing gowns Becky Brandon (née Bloomwood) finds in Hong Kong, or the hand-carved dining table from Sri Lanka, or the, um, huge wooden giraffes from Malawi (that her husband expressly forbade her to buy).
Only now Becky and Luke have returned home to London, where two truckloads of those souvenirs have cluttered up their loft. The bills are outrageous, Luke is furious, and Becky’s feeling rather blue—until her parents deliver some incredible news. She has a long-lost sister! Becky is convinced her sister will be a true soulmate. They’ll go shopping together, drink cappuccinos together, get manicures together. Then Becky meets Jessica and receives the shock of her life. Surely the shopaholic’s own sister can’t hate shopping?
Praise for Sophie Kinsella
“Kinsella’s heroine is blessed with the resilience of ten women, and her damage-limitation brain waves are always good for a giggle.”—Glamour (U.K.)
“Kinsella has a genuine gift for comic writing.”—The Boston Globe
“Kinsella’s Bloomwood is plucky and funny. . . . You won’t have to shop around to find a more winning protagonist.”—People
“Faster than a swiping Visa, more powerful than a two-for-one coupon, able to buy complete wardrobes in a single sprint through the mall—it’s Shopaholic!”—The Washington Post
quite speak. “You’ve seen them in . . . John Lewis?” I say at last. “In Kingston. The gift department.” She beams. “You can buy everything in John Lewis these days!” “Never knowingly undersold,” chimes in Mum. I do not believe this. I’ve lugged this mask approximately six thousand miles around the globe. It was supposed to be a rare and exotic treasure. And all the time it’s been on sale at bloody John Lewis. Mum glimpses my face. “But yours will be the real thing, love!” she says quickly.
drumroll here. “One . . . two . . . three . . .” In a flash of pink I pull my bra out from my sleeve and hold it aloft. “Ta-daah!” The whole room erupts in ecstatic cheers. “She did magic!” a red-haired boy shouts. “Again!” squeals a little girl. “Do it again!” “Do you want to see me do it again?” I say, beaming in delight. “Yaaaaay!” they all scream. “I don’t think so!” comes a bright, clipped voice from the door. I turn round—and Lulu is standing there, looking at me with undisguised
“These skirts are fabulous!” I say, going over to another rack, which is filled with evening wear. “This black one with the netting would look amazing on you!” I take it down and hold it up against Jess. She reaches for the price tag, looks at it, and goes pale. “I can’t believe these prices,” she murmurs. “They’re pretty reasonable, aren’t they?” I murmur back. “And the skirt?” says Sandra, popping up behind us. “Yes, please! And I’ll try it in the gray . . . ooh, and the pink!” I add,
really knows how to have fun. As she sits down on a bar stool I flick on the kettle and get down a couple of mugs. A few moments later Luke wanders in, looking harassed. “Hi, darling!” I say, injecting even more warmth into my voice than usual. “I got us a lovely waffle-maker! We can have waffles every morning!” “Excellent!” he says distractedly, and I shoot a glance of vindication at Jess. “Would you like a cup of tea?” “Er . . . yes. Thanks.” He rubs his brow and peers behind the kitchen
bag, and a whole bunch of Ethiopian birrs inside a paperback book. Plus there were loads of odd notes and coins floating around at the bottom of my carry-on bag. And the point is, this is free money! This is money we already had. I watch excitedly as the woman sorts it all into piles. “You have seventeen different currencies here,” she says at last, looking a bit dazed. “We’ve been to lots of countries,” I explain. “So, how much is it all worth?” As the woman starts tapping on a small