Oh God. I've done it now. I've been completely uncool. But somehow I don't care.

'I see,' says Luke after a pause. He picks up a piece of bread and begins to break it up with his fingers, then looks up. 'Sacha and I have been together a while now,' he says kindly. 'I'm sorry if I gave… any other impression.'

He's patronizing me. I can't bear it.

'That's not the point,' I say, feeling my cheeks flushing beetroot red. 'It's just… it's all wrong.'

'Wrong?' he says, looking amused.

'You should have told me we were choosing a case for your girlfriend,' I say doggedly, staring down at the table. 'It would have made things… different.'

There's silence and I raise my eyes, to see Luke looking at me as though I'm mad.

'Rebecca,' he says, 'you're getting this all out of proportion. I wanted your opinion on suitcases. End of story.'

'And are you going to tell your girlfriend you asked my advice?'

'Of course I am!' says Luke, and gives a little laugh. 'I expect she'll be rather amused.'

I stare at him in silence, feeling mortification creep over me. My throat's tight, and there's a pain growing in my chest. Amused. Sacha will be amused when she hears about me.

Well, of course she will. Who wouldn't be amused by hearing about the girl who spent her entire morning marching up and down Harrods, testing out suitcases for another woman? The girl who got completely the wrong end of the stick. The girl who was so stupid, she thought Luke Brandon might actually like her.

I swallow hard, feeling sick with humiliation. For the first time, I'm realizing how Luke Brandon sees me. How they all see me. I'm just the comedy turn, aren't I? I'm the scatty girl who gets things wrong and makes people laugh. The girl who didn't know SBG and Rutland Bank had merged. The girl no-one would ever think of taking seriously. Luke didn't bother telling me we were choosing a suitcase for his girlfriend because I don't matter. He's only buying me lunch because he hasn't got anything else to do – and probably because he thinks I might do something entertaining like drop my fork, which he can laugh about when he gets back to the office.

'I'm sorry,' I say in a wobbly voice, and stand up. 'I haven't got time for lunch after all.'

'Rebecca, don't be silly!' says Luke. 'Look, I'm sorry you didn't know about my girlfriend.' He raises his eyebrows quizzically, and I want to hit him. 'But we can still be friends, can't we?'

'No,' I say stiffly, aware that my voice is thick and my eyes smarting. 'No, we can't. Friends treat each other with respect. But you don't respect me, do you, Luke? You just think I'm a joke. A nothing. Well…' I swallow hard. 'Well, I'm not.'

And before he can say anything else I turn, and quickly make my way out of the restaurant, half blinded by disappointed tears.


***

7 Camel Square

Liverpool L1 5NP


Ms Rebecca Bloomwood

Flat 2

4 Burney Rd

London SW6 8FD

20 March 2000


Dear Ms Bloomwood

PGNI First Bank VISA Card No. 1475839204847586

Thank you for your payment of ?10.00, received today.

As I think I have pointed out several times, the minimum payment required was in fact ?105.40.

The balance currently overdue is therefore ?95.40. I look forward to receiving your payment as soon as possible.

If satisfactory payment is not received within seven days, further action will have to be taken.


Yours sincerely

Peter Johnson

Customer Accounts Executive


***

BANK OF LONDON

London House

Mill Street EC3R 4DW


Ms Rebecca Boomwood

Flat 2

4 Burney Rd

London SW6 8FD

20 March 2000


Dear Ms Boomwood

Just think…

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Bank of London will offer loans for almost any purpose – so don't wait any longer! Turn your life into the lifestyle you deserve.

With a Bank of London Easifone Loan, you don't even have to fill in any forms. Simply call one of our friendly 24-hour operators on 0100 45 46 47 48 and let us do the rest.

Just think…

We look forward to hearing from you.


Yours sincerely

Sue Skepper

Marketing Executive


PS Why delay? Pick up the phone now – and dial 0100 45 46 47 48. It couldn't be easier.

Twelve

As I arrive home that afternoon, I feel weary and miserable.

Suddenly, triple-A rated jobs in banking and Harrods with Luke Brandon seem miles away. Real life isn't swarming round Knightsbridge in a taxi, choosing ?1,000 suitcases, is it? This is real life. Home to a tiny flat which still smells of curry, and a pile of nasty letters from the bank, and no idea what to do about them.

I put my key in the lock, and as I open the door, I hear Suze cry, 'Bex? Is that you?'

'Yes!' I say, trying to sound cheerful. 'Where are you?'

'Here,' she says, appearing at the door of my bedroom. Her face is all pink, and there's a shine in her eyes. 'Guess what! I've got a surprise for you!'

'What is it?' I say, putting down my briefcase. To be honest, I m not in the mood for one of Suze's surprises. She'll just have moved my bed to a different place, or something. And all I want is to sit down and have a cup of tea and something to eat. I never did get any lunch.

'Come and see. No… no, shut your eyes, first. I'll lead yon.'

'OK,' I say reluctantly. I close my eyes and allow her to take my hand. We start to walk along the corridor and of course, as we near my bedroom door, I start feeling a little tingle of anticipation in spite of myself. I always fall for things like this.

'Dadaaa! You can look now!'

I open my eyes and look dazedly around my room, wondering what mad thing Suze has done now. At least she hasn't painted the walls or touched the curtains, and my computer's safely switched off. So what on earth can she have…

And then I see them. On my bed. Piles and piles of upholstered frames. All made up perfectly, with no wonky corners, and the braid glued neatly in place. I can't quite believe my eyes. There must be at least…

'I've done a hundred,' says Suze behind me. 'And I'm going to do the rest tomorrow! Aren't they fab?' I turn and stare incredulously at her.

'You… you did all these?'

'Yes!' she says proudly. 'It was easy, once I got into a rhythm. I did it in front of Morning Coffee. Oh, I wish you'd seen it. They had such a good phone-in, about men who dress up in women's clothes! There was this one guy-'

'Wait,' I say, trying to get my head round this. 'Wait. Suze, I don't understand. This must have taken you ages.' My eye runs disbelievingly over the pile of flames again. 'Why… why on earth did you-'

'Well, you weren't getting very far with them, were you?' says Suze kindly. 'I just thought I'd give you a helping hand.'

'A helping hand?' I echo weakly.

'I'll do the rest tomorrow, and then I'll ring up the delivery people,' says Suze. 'You know, it's a very good system. You don't have to post them, or anything. They just come and pick them up! And then they'll send you a cheque. It should come to about ?284. Pretty good, huh?!

'Hang on.' I turn round. 'What do you mean, they'll send me a cheque?' Suze looks at me as though I'm stupid.

'Well, Bex, they are your frames.'

'But you made them! Suze, you should get the money!'

'But I did them for you!' says Suze, and stares at me. 'I did them so you could make your three hundred quid!'

I stare at her silently, feeling a sudden thickness in my throat. Suze made all these frames for me. Slowly I sit down on the bed, pick up one of the frames and run my finger along the fabric. It's absolutely perfect. You could sell it in Liberty's.

'Suze, it's your money. Not mine,' I say eventually. 'It's your project, now.'

'Well, that's where you're wrong,' says Suze, and a triumphant look spreads over her face. 'I've got my own project.'

She comes over to the bed, reaches behind the pile of made-up frames, and pulls something out. It's a photo frame – but it's nothing like a Fine Frame. It's upholstered in silver furry fabric, and the word ANGEL is appliqued in pink across the top, and there are little silver pom-poms at the corners. It's the coolest, kitschiest frame I've ever seen.

'Do you like it?' she says, a bit nervously.

'I love it!' I say, grabbing it from her hands and looking more closely at it. 'Where did you get it?'

'I didn't get it anywhere,' she says. 'I made it.'

'What?' I stare at her. 'You… made this?'

'Yes. During Neighbours. It was awful, actually. Beth found out about Joey and Skye.'

I'm completely gobsmacked. How come Suze suddenly turns out to be so talented?

'So what do you reckon?' she says, taking the frame back and turning it over in her fingers. 'Could I sell these?'

Could she sell these?

'Suze,' I say quite seriously. 'You're going to be a millionaire.'

And we spend the rest of the evening getting very pissed and mapping out Suze's career as an Anita Roddick-style businesswoman. We get quite hysterical trying to decide if she should wear Chanel or Prada when she goes to meet the Queen – and by the time I get into bed, I've forgotten all about Luke Brandon and Bank of Helsinki and the rest of my disastrous day.