Shopaholic on Honeymoon (Short Story) (Shopaholic series)

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This is the only tiny difference between Luke and me. He likes reading about buildings and exhibits and history, whereas I only have to read the words ‘Built in 1755, the church was originally . . .’ and I fall asleep. (Which is quite handy on planes, as it happens.)

As I look at the little drawings of him and me, my eyes feel suddenly hot. We look so positive and dynamic and, somehow, together. Even if my hair is a bit weird. (Is that really what he thinks it looks like?) Anyway. Never mind. The important thing is, I’m here with my easel and my gorgeous art set, and I’m going to have a lovely afternoon being creative. The girl with tangled blonde curls looks over and smiles. This is so cool! A masked ball! I have a vision of me and Luke in amazing masks and evening dress, whisking along the Grand Canal in a candle-lit gondola. We have to go. We have to. Well, fine. I’ll just sit and have a drink and soak up St Mark’s Square. If I’m going home in two weeks’ time, I’d better enjoy every second of this honeymoon that’s left. I look around at the colonnade and the pigeons and the shiny domes, and heave a great sigh. As I take a seat at Florian’s café, my heart feels like a lump of sand in my chest, and it’s not even because I’ve seen the price of a cappuccino.Introducing a fleet of gondolas to the Thames is certainly an innovative idea. I fear, however, that gondolas would not be suited to the tidal waters of the Thames and it would be unlikely that, as you suggest, Londoners would ‘start travelling everywhere by water’. But we’re married now. This is our honeymoon. Everyone knows that when you get married the slate is wiped clean and neither party should refer to any unfortunate incidents in the past. The square is quiet and shady, with nothing but a solitary café, a church and a fountain. The students are all drawing the church, so I decide to do the same. I set up my easel alongside a girl with tangled blonde curls, and get out my art materials, trying not to look self-conscious. The late-afternoon light is making the square all gleamy-goldy and a band is playing, and if I hadn’t just argued with my new husband, it would all be totally gorgeous. Morosely I watch a couple having a picture taken in the middle of the square. They’re both wearing straw hats and have sunburnt arms and look really happy. I expect they’re on honeymoon too, but I bet the husband isn’t trying to bail out in the middle. I’m sorry,’ says Luke at length, and I give the merest little shrug. Sorry doesn’t clarify anything. Is he sorry because he’s flying home tomorrow and wishes he’d married some Brandon C. clone who wouldn’t even want a honeymoon? Is he sorry because this marriage has clearly been a huge mistake and it’s going to be a nightmare sorting out the divorce? Is he sorry I chose Florian’s to come and drown my sorrows in, because I could have done so at half the price round the corner?

It’s our set of twelve Murano glass goblets!’ I say. ‘You were there when we chose them! All the different colours, remember? Weren’t you concentrating?’ Honeymoon.’ He nods. ‘Let’s go and . . .’ He gestures to a nearby seating area with two love seats. The receptionist takes the easel, and I follow Luke, feeling more agitated than ever. And look at the way they’re all dressed so smartly in matching stripy tops and boaters. Why don’t London taxi drivers wear matching costumes? You’d think the Mayor would have thought of that. In fact, I might write him a letter about it.Luke smiles and reaches for my hand, and for a while we just sit: listening to the music, watching the pigeons flap about and sharing the Prosecco. So, I was thinking about going to the Peggy Guggenheim,’ he says cautiously. ‘It’s supposed to be spectacular. But if you’d rather not . . .’

The other problem I hadn’t foreseen is, it’s so public here. Tourists keep coming up to have a look, which puts me off my stride, and one little boy even burst out laughing, which was totally uncalled for. Nothing else.’ I nod firmly, and raise my glass to him, feeling suddenly ecstatic. We’ve patched up our fight and the sun is shining and we’re drinking Prosecco and we’re going to a masked ball next week! And I already know exactly which marbled stationery shop I’m going to go to.You can. You can if you want to. Everything’s in place for you to do it.’ I’m breathing hard, my face flushed. ‘The question is . . . do you want to?’ Won’t it be fun when we get home and open everything we’ve bought?’ I turn to Luke. ‘It’ll be like Christmas!’