A Perfect Proposal (19 page)

Sophie groaned. ‘They sound terribly grand. The sort of shop you can’t get out of without buying anything.’

‘I suspect my grandmother will have called ahead. They’ll have clothes set aside. They’ll be expecting us.’

Sophie squirmed in her leather seat. ‘I do most of my shopping in charity shops – or Primark.’

Luke gave her a curious glance. ‘I’ve never come across a girl so reluctant to shop.’

‘I’m not at all reluctant to shop! I love shopping! But only when I can afford the clothes.’ He would never understand.

‘Well, I can afford the clothes. That will have to do you.’

Sophie laughed. ‘It’s a first for me, I can tell you, being with someone who has more money than I have.’

Luke took his eyes off the road to look at her sharply. ‘Really? I had the impression you had very little money and so almost anyone would have more money than you.’

‘Golly, Luke, that’s a bit blunt, isn’t it? We Brits never talk about money.’

‘Fortunately I’m not a Brit, but am I right?’

Sophie shrugged. ‘You are right really, although I hate to admit it. I think what I meant was that my previous boyfriends have been broke but also quite mean with money. They care more about the planet than about their girlfriends having a good time.’ She bit her lip. ‘Obviously the planet
is
a lot more important …’

‘But you can occasionally treat a girl without damaging the ozone layer?’

Sophie laughed. ‘Exactly! You’ve hit the nail on the head.’

‘We Yanks can do that sometimes.’

He was looking straight ahead but Sophie thought she detected a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

‘I can’t believe all the place names are English!’ she said a little later.

‘Well, it’s only natural to want to bring something of home with you.’

‘Imagine leaving your country, knowing you’ll never go back. Just going all that way on such a tiny ship must have taken huge courage.’

‘Homesick, Sophie?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m having a brilliant time.’ She smiled at him, aware it was partly he that was making it so brilliant. ‘Thank you!’

‘My pleasure,’ he replied, and for a moment they were in perfect harmony. Soon they reached a town that could have been in one of the wealthier parts of the UK. ‘Now let’s hurry right along. I gather I have to have you back for more cookie-frosting.’

‘There were a couple of girls who couldn’t come yesterday but who heard about it.’

‘And that’s at three so we’d better hury.’

‘It’s only half past ten. How long do you think it’s all going to take?’ Luke sent her another bewildered look, which made her feel like a creature from another planet all over again. She was getting used to it.

She went on feeling like one when they got into the shop, which, as she had feared, was desperately intimidating. In her room at Matilda’s house she had felt dressed down but respectable. Here she just felt scruffy. Yet her jeans were fairly new, her sweater was a good label (bought at high discount) and she’d cleaned her boots before she left Milly’s flat. It was her parka that really let her down.

The owner of the shop swam towards them with her hand held out. She was the most perfectly groomed woman Sophie had ever seen; as she got closer, Sophie realised this woman had probably had ‘work’ done. Probably in her mid fifties, she had enough lines to give her face character but no sagging jawline or hooded eyes. Her immaculate pink, knee-length two-piece – possibly vintage Chanel – showed off her perfect legs ending in medium-heel shoes that would have paid for ten of everything Sophie was wearing and have change. The highlights in her hair could have been put into individual hairs, and her make-up was flawless. Sophie felt herself shrinking towards Luke for protection.

But the moment the woman smiled, revealing small, straight, very white teeth, Sophie felt herself relax a little. This woman may have been perfect but she was good at her
job too; she knew better than to intimidate her customers. She grasped Sophie’s hand from where it had been clinging to the bottom of her coat.

‘You must be Sophie. I’m Heidi. Mrs Winchester said you’d be a joy to dress and I can see exactly what she means. A model figure, dimples, great hair! I recognised you from her description the moment you walked in.’

‘Oh.’ Sophie couldn’t decide if this made her feel better or worse.

‘And you must be Mrs Winchester’s grandson.’ She shook Luke’s hand too and Sophie had time to be grateful she didn’t appear to know him personally; he hadn’t brought other young women here to buy clothes.

She now had Sophie’s hand in both of hers. ‘Honey, would you like your gorgeous boyfriend to help you choose something? Or will we get on better on our own?’

Sophie felt slightly panicked. Should she say that Luke wasn’t her boyfriend – and where had Heidi got that idea from? Would having him there make the whole experience better or worse?

He made the decision for her. There was a pile of magazines on a table in front of a little sofa. ‘I’ll buy a newspaper and read, then I’m here if you need a masculine opinion.’

Heidi was obviously delighted. ‘Honey, we gals always want a masculine opinion but not until we’re clear in our own minds what that opinion should be and whether we’ll listen or not.’

It took Sophie a moment to work this out and then she nodded.

‘And would you like a glass of champagne or a cup of coffee while you catch up on the news?’ asked Heidi, taking Luke’s topcoat and ushering him on to the sofa.

‘No thank you. I’ll let you two get on.’

Heidi handed the coat to the minion who’d materialised, just as well groomed but younger than her boss.

‘Thank you, honey,’ said Heidi, getting Sophie’s parka off her back without Sophie noticing how she did it. ‘Now!’ Her professional gaze raked Sophie from the top of her rather tangled top knot to her slightly scuffed toes. ‘We have work to do!’

She ushered Sophie into a changing room at the back of the shop rather as a nanny gets her charges up to bed: kindly, and by not acknowledging that anything else could happen. ‘You take your top clothes off and I’ll bring you things to try. A brunch, Mrs Winchester said?’

‘That’s right. I think it’s quite smart.’

Heidi nodded. ‘It’s Mrs St Clare. Very smart.’

‘How do you know?’ This woman seemed omniscient.

‘She has one every year and, besides, Mrs Winchester told me.’

Heidi fell silent, looking at Sophie, who still hadn’t stripped off, reluctant to let this woman see her underwear. ‘Honey? Would you mind if I suggested we started from the skin out?’

‘Um …’

‘Lingerie. It seems to me your lovely figure is not being well served by your foundation garments.’

Sophie hadn’t thought of the greying bra and skimpy knickers as foundation garments before – perhaps for good reason. ‘I’m not sure …’ Luke was buying her an outfit so she’d pass as his girlfriend. Surely no one would notice her bra?

‘Shall I check with Mr Winchester?’

‘I don’t know!’ The thought of him buying her underwear as well as everything else was too much. ‘We hardly know each other!’

Heidi smiled. ‘That’s not the impression I had from Mrs Winchester, but if you feel you don’t want to make a big song
and dance about it, I understand.’ Heidi paused for thought, an activity not reflected in her facial expression. ‘Take your clothes off. I’m going to bring you some things to try.’

The changing room was spacious. Like the shop it contained a small sofa and a pile of magazines. As Sophie took off her clothes and hung them on some hooks she decided it was easier not to argue with Heidi. If she wanted to think that she and Luke were a major item then let her. And, she realised, seating herself, it probably made it less weird him buying her clothes. Maybe Matilda had told Heidi they were practically engaged to make it seem more normal. She picked up American
Vogue
. She had exchanged it for
Cosmo
and was well into an article about hypnotherapy as an aid to weight loss when Heidi came back. On her arm was a selection of bras, all-in-one bra-and-pant sets and also pairs of knickers and thongs.

‘I checked with him,’ said Heidi, correctly interpreting Sophie’s look of horror. ‘He said you were to have everything. Now let’s have that brassiere – if you can call it that.’

At least she wasn’t required to try on the knickers, and the bra Heidi was finally happy with did make her look fabulous.

‘Now the top layer.’ Heidi disappeared out of the changing room to return seconds later with an armful of hangers and plastic bags. Her assistant had obviously been picking out garments while Heidi had been adjusting Sophie’s bra straps.

‘Brunches are usually smart-casual, the hardest look to achieve in my opinion. Try these pants. Oh and put on these heels. You won’t be wearing flats.’

Sophie thought she probably would be wearing flats as she’d declared her beautiful stilts a health hazard. Then, as she drew on the wide, silky, palazzo pants, she realised that she’d have to take up the hems if she stuck to her own boots. When the trousers were done up, she slipped her feet into the
court shoes offered to her by Heidi.

‘Fabulous! Now the top!’

The clothes were fabulous, but Sophie didn’t feel herself in them. They were too smart, too slick. Her style was bohemian, quirky and original. But maybe it didn’t matter? She was acting as Luke’s girlfriend. She didn’t want to look like herself, she wanted to look like a New York heiress, old money, or even the descendant of an oil millionaire. This made her giggle. If she ever achieved her quest it might turn out that she was.

Eventually Heidi was satisfied with her appearance. She’d found shoes, a bag, a gilt belt and a scarf.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘time to show Mr Winchester.’ Heidi led her to where Luke had the financial papers spread out in front of him. ‘Well! Isn’t she just gorgeous?’

Luke looked up. First he looked disbelieving and then he frowned. ‘Um, I’m sorry, but that outfit won’t do.’

‘Honey!’ protested Heidi, disappointment breaking through her professional veneer. ‘She’s to die for!’

‘She is,’ agreed Luke, ‘but my mother would wear those clothes, not my girlfriend.’ He suddenly cleared his throat, aware that maybe he’d told Heidi that Sophie wasn’t his girlfriend. ‘I mean, I think she looks at her best in jeans and a top.’

‘I have jeans and a top of my own!’ said Sophie indignantly. ‘Have you put me through—’ Then she stopped. She didn’t want to offend Heidi, who’d worked very hard on her behalf.

‘You need designer jeans,’ said Luke. ‘Which is it? Chloé? And then something on top, and some boots.’

‘I have boots!’ Sophie protested again, but quieter this time. She knew he’d add ‘that aren’t scuffed’ if she made too much fuss.

‘But keep the bra and purse,’ said Luke. ‘They’re perfect.’

When Sophie left the shop she was holding bags of clothes that made her feel exactly like herself, only the five-star, high-end version. She had a new handbag over her shoulder that she thought was possibly the new love of her life.

‘Thank you, Luke, for saving me from getting all the wrong clothes. And thank you so much for the bag as well.’

‘The wrong purse would give the game away completely.’

‘I know. It just seems too much! I feel like Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
.’

He laughed. ‘Are you a fan of Julia Roberts’s films?’

‘Oh yes! Especially
Notting Hill
. I
loved
it.’

‘Did you ever see
Mystic Pizza
? One of her earlier films, before she was really famous?’

‘Mm! My sister had it on DVD. I’d always make pizzas and she’d drink red wine while we watched it.’

‘So you do like pizza?’

‘Oh yes.’ Sophie was aware she sounded as if pizza was her favourite dish of all time and that she’d been deprived of it. What she was really missing was an ordinary meal in an ordinary restaurant.

‘And you like the ocean?’

‘Who doesn’t?’

Luke laughed. ‘I think you deserve a treat after that shopping trip. My grandmother meant well, sending you there, but she’s not the most fashion-conscious person.’