Confessions of a Reluctant Recessionista by Amy Silver Page B

taking no pleasure in being the bearer of such awful news.
    A lone, fat tear splashed onto my half-finished plate of eggs Benedict.
    ‘The next day he sent me two dozen red roses. I remember being so surprised, and so happy. Myboyfriend sends me flowers, for no reason at all, it doesn’t have to be Valentine’s Day. He just does it, I thought, because he loves me.’ I pushed away my food. ‘I’m not hungry. I need another drink.’
    Ali summoned the waitress.
    ‘So they’ve been seeing each since then? For a month?’
    ‘Seems that way, although according to James, Dan tried to break it off a couple of times. James was actually really shocked when he heard that Dan had chosen—’
    ‘Her.’
    The waitress brought our drinks and took away the plates. Ali lit a cigarette, ignoring the ostentatious coughing noises from the next table.
    ‘Water’s wet, the sky’s blue, men cheat,’ she said ruefully. ‘And talking of cheating, I’m afraid I can’t hang out and shop this afternoon.’ She gave a cheeky, guilty little smile.
    ‘The Frenchman, I take it?’
    ‘We have an assignation at the Covent Garden Hotel. Actually, we’re meeting in Coco de Mer, across the road. They have these beautiful embroidered blindfolds . . .’
    ‘Ali,’ I said, trying hard not to sound too much like Jude, ‘are you sure this is a good idea?’
    ‘Almost certainly not, but you know. The heart wants what it wants.’
    ‘Oh, it’s your heart that wants, is it?’
    *
    Left to my own devices that afternoon, feeling a little abandoned by my best friend not to mention steamrollered by my ex, I went a bit over the top on the retail therapy. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that shops didn’t use to open on Sundays. What on earth did people do all day? Even the religious ones must have been bored stiff – it’s not like church takes all day. Unless of course you go to one of those evangelical places where the services go on for hours and hours. I bought dresses and shoes and a cute little skirt suit (perfect for job interviews), a beautiful silver Paradise Orchid ring from Bower & Hall (well, no one else is going to spoil me now, are they?) and a bag full of pampering goodies from this fabulous Chinese place which sells things like ‘mood-freshening body scrubs’ made from bamboo and green tea. My mood was definitely in need of some freshening. Finally, I popped into Montezumas for a couple of bags of champagne and white chocolate truffles to eat on the sofa that evening. It was essential, I reasoned, if I was going to start hunting for jobs the next morning, to keep my spirits up.

7
     
    Cassie Cavanagh is feeling undesirable
    Bank balance: -£766.88
Available overdraft: £1,800
Amount of rent due in one week’s time: £800
    I was feeling undesirable not to the opposite sex (I had a date set up for that Thursday – exactly nine days AD – not bad going), but to potential employers. As Jude had warned, job hunting was proving a little trickier than I had anticipated. I leapt out of bed bright and early on Monday morning, eager to get started. I browsed JobSearch.co.uk , I looked at the Reed Recruitment site. I checked my emails. I had a promotional mail from NET-A-PORTER. They had Bottega Veneta bags on sale. I clicked on the link. Thirty per cent off! Bargain. I placed an order. Back to the job hunt. An ad for a PA/Events Coordinator. I dismissed it when I saw the pay they were offering. Pathetic.
    There was another post, a PA to the MD and FD of a property investment company, which offered a salary more commensurate with what I was used to. The advert demanded someone who had ‘superb organisational skills’, who was ‘very polished’ and ‘a true team player, not a queen bee type’. That summed me up perfectly. I filled in the application, attached my CV, dashed off a quick covering letter and sent it.
    Filled with a sense of achievement, I decided to nip down to Starbucks to grab a coffee and a croque monsieur. On