13 October 2012
Harvey Nicks was as busy as I had anticipated. Lots of ladies looking out for the best designer bargin they could find. Sales shopping here doesn’t involve any unkempt sales racks, raking or rummaging. Things are much more civilized and calmer in here. Not a random coat hanger or a scrunched up garment on the floor or a random empty iron bru can lying on the grubby floor. Everything in here is displayed perfectly, lined up in clean rows great for someone like myself with OCD tendencies. Sales assistants sashay past perfectly groomed, trained to take care of your every whim or need trained with expert knowledge on each designers’ range for the season. After spending a few hours with Lauren, a personal shopper, I purchased a few treasures. She swung round the counter handing me my bags and pulling her shiny blonde ponytail to one side whispered 'I've popped in a very special sample of perfume for you, hand delivered by SM herself, on her way over to the Mull of Kintyre'. 'Oh wow, thanks' I said looking at the pink and black two tone sample bottle.
Returning home, excited with my new purchases, I deliberately parked my car close to the house so to make a quick dash inside. Jason’s car was there which meant I had to be quick. I could feel my adrenalin rising, my heart pounding, the fear kicked in and I started to question whether I could do it in my new 9" heels, courtesy of Versace.
My heart now beating faster and faster as if trying to break free from its ruby chambers. I gulped a few mouthfuls of the crisp frosty air and ran manically down the garden path and through the house as quickly as my heels could carry me.
On the coffee table I saw the phone’s green light winking at me, knowing that time was my enemy I pressed the ‘play’ button and sprinted upstairs. The American voice filled the corners of the lounge siphoning upstairs to our bedroom. 'You have one message. This message is 4 minutes long’. ‘Eh? Who on earth? Ofcourse, I thought, it’ll be Luisa.
‘Hi Faith and Jason, its Lacey Wainright-Gold….’ Since it had become official, Lacey couldn’t help but give herself the full name-check at any given chance. Her southern English accent more pronounced than I had ever heard it. ‘Oh, do shut up Gordon will you, you’re on morphine for god’s sake, the doctor said you shouldn’t be in any pain now!’ said Lacey in a distinctly non caring manner. ….’Yes, Faith and Jason I do apologise about this but I really will have to cancel tonight’s dinner party as Gordon has had an accident. I know its short notice but sorry wait a minute....Gordon…Shut up will you, for God’s sake I’m on the phone, you’re vision is perfectly clear, I saw you eyeing up that nurse, has the knock on the head affected your memory? We’re married remember?’ her tone was a mixture of nursery school teacher peppered with patronisation. She continued ‘sorry about this but we’re still at the hospital, they think Gordon’s cracked a few bones and he’s to go for an MRI. Please let Luisa and Fletcher know’ and she was gone.
I managed to piece together the bits of the conversation to work out Gordon had lost his balance and fallen from a ladder when trying to put up a ‘Happy Hogmany’ banner outside their new mock Tudor home. Bloody ironic really, poor Gordon.
Quickly I deposited my new purchases in the tax free treasure trove. Let me explain, the TFTT is an independent island, free from any taxation and more importantly it’s undiscovered by man – in this case Jason – the way it works is quite simple, take the real price of the item, deduct 50% then the tax, which I believe to be around 20% and there you have it, the true Tax Free Treasure Trove price!
Chapter Three • Opuss № I