How Not to Shop by Carmen Reid Page B

won't happen again, OK.'
     
But too late, Ed had heard, and then he was in the hallway asking, 'Shopping bag? Surely you've not been shopping, on your budget of 28p a day or whatever it is?'
     
'An incredibly, incredibly cheap mini-handbag from a chain store, seriously!' she'd defended herself.
     
'Show!' he'd insisted, while moving in for a proper hug and kiss.
     
She'd opened the carrier and shown him the bracelet, bag and . . . er . . . necklace she'd picked up in the shop. But a big part of her resented having to do this. She may have been relying on Ed's savings to get them through the next few months, but she certainly didn't want to be interrogated about every single little thing she might happen to pick up for herself.
     
'Watch it,' she warned him, 'I might get snappy.'
     
'OK,' he backed off with a smile. 'They look very nice.'
     
That's when she'd decided to go and see Lana. At least she would understand and appreciate a bargain accessory. 'Lana's in her room,' Ed told her, 'she's never out of her room. She's become the most studious person I know.'
     
'Must be your good influence,' Annie said with a wink. 'OK, well, I think I'll go and say hello. Then come back to my boys in a little bit.'
     
'I hope you mean us and not the cats,' Ed replied, watching as his two saggy old house cats, Hoover and Dyson, wound their way, purring like engines, around Annie's legs.
     
It was three short flights of stairs to the attic level where Owen and Lana each had a little bedroom. Annie tapped on Lana's door.
     
There was a frantic blast of keyboard tapping and then Lana's voice asked, 'Is that you, Mum?'
     
'Yeah,' Annie said, stepping into the room. 'Is it all right to come in or am I disturbing the next Einstein?'
     
'Oh very funny.' Lana swivelled her chair away from her desk and turned to smile at her mum. 'How was your day?' she asked.
     
'A bit stressful in parts,' Annie told her. 'How about yours?'
     
'Oh, I'll get over it,' Lana joked.
     
'Me too . . . I think,' Annie said, then she took a seat on the edge of the very crowded bed. A huge assortment of Lana's clothes, bags, books and belongings had been scattered about here.
     
'Planning your weekend wardrobe?' Annie asked with a smile.
     
'Ermm . . . something like that,' Lana replied.
     
'It's only Tuesday,' Annie reminded her.
     
'Just as well. Nothing's come together yet.'
     
'Something big happening at the weekend?'
     
'Well . . . Daisy's having a birthday party. At her home,' Lana added quickly: 'parents around, nothing too wild.'
     
'Sounds fine,' Annie responded, 'but you know I trust you. You're older and so much more sensible. I hate you getting older, but I like the sensible bit,' she admitted. 'Maybe it's my compensation.'
     
She took a long look at her daughter, with her pretty, pale, sweetheart face and dark hair. The older she got, the more she looked like her very handsome actor dad. Annie allowed the thought to cross her mind.
     
There were only a few moments in the day when she let herself think about the late Roddy Valentine, whom she had been married to for six years. Very happily married to, until a small, completely unlucky and unnecessary accident had taken him away from them all.
     
As she occasionally explained to people who asked: no, you didn't 'get over it', not a loss like that. You eventually just had to pick yourself up and somehow 'get on with it'. Especially for the children's sake. Somewhere along the way, along the years, she'd let go of the fury raging inside her head and made some sort of 'peace' with the situation.
     
Losing Roddy had become a part of who they all were: Annie, Lana, Owen, Dinah, Connor, even Ed.
     
The only thing that still broke her heart, whenever she allowed herself to dwell on it, was how proud, how fiercely, fiercely proud Roddy would have been of his children. But they were never going to hear that from him.
     
So she had to over-compensate. 'You're looking really nice,' she told Lana,