wriggling furiously, her face and upper torso caked in Sophie’s expensive makeup collection.
Which meant another bath. And which Sophie was sure would mean another tantrum.
In any event, though, Izzy was amazingly contrite and even allowed Sophie to remove the offending fairy dress, which was now beyond all help, as long as Sophie promised to replace it with an identical one. Sophie chose not to worry about the logistics of that promise, concentrating only on the results it got.
Eventually she dressed in the bedroom, alongside both girls. Bella selected from the girls’ single suitcase a pair of red leggings with yellow dots, an electric blue T-shirt, a lime green cardigan, and a pink cotton ruffled mini-skirt to finish the outfit off. And, robbed of her fairy dress, Izzy carefully picked out items of clothing that were entirely yellow.
In the meantime, Sophie struggled to find clothes that were suitable for taking two small children to the supermarket. Sensible clothes were not Sophie’s strong point. Almost everything she bought was chosen to go to the office or a function in. And everything she bought was chosen with a particular pair of shoes in mind. Sophie put shoes first. If she saw a wonderful pair that she had absolutely nothing to wear with, she would buy them anyway. In her experience, shoes were like fashion magnets. The right clothes would simply be drawn to them. Sophie was especially proud of this philosophy she had invented all on her own, although she did have to admit that it sometimes took a lot of hard shopping to reach outfit Nirvana. Consequently, Sophie was limited on casual wear, principally because she didn’t do much casual wearing.
Eventually she found a pair of jeans that she had forgotten she had and possessed only because she had felt compelled to help her mum redecorate the house last year with washable stainproof paint. After some rooting about in the backs of her drawers, she found an old pink Calvin Klein T-shirt that had the logo spelled out in diamantés, which she pulled reluctantly over her head.
Sophie looked at her shoe rack, which was neatly attached to the inside of her wardrobe door, and scanned her shoes. The most sensible and expendable pair of shoes she had were from River Island, low kitten heels in magenta pink with pointed toes and a thin strap that crossed each toe horizontally, ending in a tiny bow.
Once, only yesterday in fact—although it seemed like a dim memory now—it had amused her no end that such a pair of shoes were her most sensible ones. Now it dismayed her. Not because she wished she were better prepared for all scenarios but because she wished that her life was back to normal.
When the threesome finally emerged from the flat, Sophie felt curiously triumphant, as if she had survived an apocalypse.
The thing is, she decided, squinting slightly in the glare of the bright winter sun, to keep your nerve. If I can just do that, it’ll be a breeze.
Six
C al was not nearly as enthusiastic about Sophie’s plans to turn bounty hunter as she was. Especially when she asked him to look up Louis Gregory on the Internet—as if the man and his whereabouts would be handily listed by Google in an A–Z directory of missing feckless fathers.
“This is not the telly, Sophie,” he told her impatiently over the phone the morning after she decided to find Louis Gregory herself, mainly by getting Cal to do it. “You don’t type a name into the Internet and then suddenly, schum-schum-schum, there’s the current location, address, and a satellite image of the person’s every movement. Do you know what I got when I typed Louis Gregory into the Search engine? Three hundred and eight-two thousand matches. And is your Louis Gregory the Louis Gregory? New Zealand’s greatest living sheep shearer Louis Gregory? Not unless he’s sixty-two and a Maori he’s not. I do have a job to do, you know. Just exactly when do you expect me to go through all of these entries
Which meant another bath. And which Sophie was sure would mean another tantrum.
In any event, though, Izzy was amazingly contrite and even allowed Sophie to remove the offending fairy dress, which was now beyond all help, as long as Sophie promised to replace it with an identical one. Sophie chose not to worry about the logistics of that promise, concentrating only on the results it got.
Eventually she dressed in the bedroom, alongside both girls. Bella selected from the girls’ single suitcase a pair of red leggings with yellow dots, an electric blue T-shirt, a lime green cardigan, and a pink cotton ruffled mini-skirt to finish the outfit off. And, robbed of her fairy dress, Izzy carefully picked out items of clothing that were entirely yellow.
In the meantime, Sophie struggled to find clothes that were suitable for taking two small children to the supermarket. Sensible clothes were not Sophie’s strong point. Almost everything she bought was chosen to go to the office or a function in. And everything she bought was chosen with a particular pair of shoes in mind. Sophie put shoes first. If she saw a wonderful pair that she had absolutely nothing to wear with, she would buy them anyway. In her experience, shoes were like fashion magnets. The right clothes would simply be drawn to them. Sophie was especially proud of this philosophy she had invented all on her own, although she did have to admit that it sometimes took a lot of hard shopping to reach outfit Nirvana. Consequently, Sophie was limited on casual wear, principally because she didn’t do much casual wearing.
Eventually she found a pair of jeans that she had forgotten she had and possessed only because she had felt compelled to help her mum redecorate the house last year with washable stainproof paint. After some rooting about in the backs of her drawers, she found an old pink Calvin Klein T-shirt that had the logo spelled out in diamantés, which she pulled reluctantly over her head.
Sophie looked at her shoe rack, which was neatly attached to the inside of her wardrobe door, and scanned her shoes. The most sensible and expendable pair of shoes she had were from River Island, low kitten heels in magenta pink with pointed toes and a thin strap that crossed each toe horizontally, ending in a tiny bow.
Once, only yesterday in fact—although it seemed like a dim memory now—it had amused her no end that such a pair of shoes were her most sensible ones. Now it dismayed her. Not because she wished she were better prepared for all scenarios but because she wished that her life was back to normal.
When the threesome finally emerged from the flat, Sophie felt curiously triumphant, as if she had survived an apocalypse.
The thing is, she decided, squinting slightly in the glare of the bright winter sun, to keep your nerve. If I can just do that, it’ll be a breeze.
Six
C al was not nearly as enthusiastic about Sophie’s plans to turn bounty hunter as she was. Especially when she asked him to look up Louis Gregory on the Internet—as if the man and his whereabouts would be handily listed by Google in an A–Z directory of missing feckless fathers.
“This is not the telly, Sophie,” he told her impatiently over the phone the morning after she decided to find Louis Gregory herself, mainly by getting Cal to do it. “You don’t type a name into the Internet and then suddenly, schum-schum-schum, there’s the current location, address, and a satellite image of the person’s every movement. Do you know what I got when I typed Louis Gregory into the Search engine? Three hundred and eight-two thousand matches. And is your Louis Gregory the Louis Gregory? New Zealand’s greatest living sheep shearer Louis Gregory? Not unless he’s sixty-two and a Maori he’s not. I do have a job to do, you know. Just exactly when do you expect me to go through all of these entries
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