Chapter One
The sound of breaking glass stirred me from my sleep and I sat up quickly. Not moving an inch, I held my breath in anticipation of more noises. I slowly exhaled, counting the seconds. The second bang made me reach without thinking for the aluminum bat I kept under the bed. Someone was trying to break into the apartment! My heart was beating a hundred miles a minute as I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. They felt heavy, as if something was preventing me from opening them. In the darkness, I leant over again, my fingers searching around for the bat. I lost my balance, falling forward onto the floor with a loud thump.
Groaning, I turned over onto my back and reached up to touch my face, my fingers feeling for what was impairing my vision. Slowly, my brain registered what it was I’d forgotten: I had gone to sleep wearing an eye mask. Another crash echoed from downstairs. I forgot the bat. Pushing the eye mask over my head, I searched around the floor for something else to use as a weapon. Finally, my fingers came into contact with a long, sharp object. A stiletto. Perfect! I grabbed the shoe, clutching it as if my life depended on it.
“Kate!”I heard my name being called out from downstairs.
It didn’t make sense. What kind of robber would break in and call out your name? Either I was still asleep and this was all an odd dream or it was some screwed up hallucination. Feeling fuzzy and slightly disoriented, I looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. 8:30am. I had only landed a handful of hours ago after a long flight and crossing who knows how many time zones. The building had to be on fire: why else would anyone try to break in?
“Kate, are you up there?”
Recognizing my friend Olivia’s voice, I sighed heavily. Lying back down, I closed my eyes and hugged the stiletto to my chest.
“Good, she’s here, there’s her suitcase.”
“Check upstairs, Emma.”
Emma? What was she doing here? Scratch that, what were theydoing here? At this point, I didn’t care. I couldn’t formulate a coherent thought. All I wanted was to go back to sleep. I didn’t even have the energy to climb back into bed. Painfully, I pulled the comforter down from the bed and covered myself with it. Whatever those two were up to, I couldn’t be bothered.
“What if she has someone up there with her?”I heard Emma say as they got closer.
“Please,who is going to be up there with her?”But for a moment,Olivia paused.
“Catherine Seeley,”she called out, sounding a bit unsure.“We are coming up. If there is anyone up there with you, they have exactly five seconds to get dressed!”
If I had any energy, I would have actually laughed. She was right. No one would be up here with me, but it was nice that she had given some warning. The bedroom door slammed open, startling me for a second time. I screamed. Emma screamed. Olivia switched the lights on and I squinted as my eyes tried to adjust.
“What the hell are you doing?!”Olivia demanded.
Clutching the stiletto, I stared at them. Emma held her hands over her chest.“You scared the shit out of me,”she said. “What are you doing on the floor? And what’s with the shoe?”
“I thought you were robbers! I was looking for my bat but I could only find this,”I said.
“Really, Kate,”Olivia said.“‘Death by stiletto’, I can see the headlines now. Put it down before you hurt yourself or, worse, break the shoe.”She took it from my hand and dropped it on the ground.
“What were you going to do with a bat?”Emma asked.
I shrugged.“I’m still a New Yorker,”I said, as if that answered everything.
Olivia looked down at me, shaking her head.“I can’t believe this. How can you still be in bed? You agreed to meet us at my flat over an hour ago. Emma came in from the country,”she said. I looked at Emma. She gave me an apologetic shrug. I really doubted poor Emma wanted to be here this early; but Olivia was a force to be reckoned with. Seizing the opportunity, I climbed back into bed, taking the comforter with me.
“Oh no you don’t!”Olivia tugged at my arm but all she managed to do was push me further into my cocoon. “Let’s go, up you get!”She pulled the comforter off me.
“Jesus, Olivia!”I sat up angrilyand gave her a death stare, but it didn’t faze her. I loved Olivia, but right now I was contemplating killing her.
She didn’t back off.“You were supposed to call us when you landed. I offered to pick you up from the airport, we could have gone straight from there.”
“Cut me some slack!”I begged. “My flight was delayed. And I’m sorry if I didn’t think about calling you when I landed, I barely even remember how I got home. I got no sleep on the plane because a baby cried for the whole flight and the kid behind me was kicking my chair all the way from LAX to Heathrow.”
“Olivia, look at her, she’s in no shape to come with us. Maybe we should let her rest, she can meet us later,”Emma suggested, handing me back the comforter. But Olivia grabbed it from her and threw it on the floor.
“No, I need all hands on deck,”she said.
I shook my head in disbelief. Resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at her, I pulled the bed sheet over me and lay back down.
“You know what you need?”Olivia said.
“My comforter back and for you to go away?”I moaned.
“Coffee,”she said, pulling the sheet from me. I shivered and curled up in the fetal position.
“Leave me alone,”I whined. Although, a cup of coffee sounded very tempting.
“Coffee sounds like an excellent idea; I’ll make you a cup while you get ready,”Emma said. I sighed. I wasn’t going to win this one. I had no choice but to get up.
“Thank you, Emma,”I managed, and swung my legs off the bed. “You’re mental, you know that?”I said to Olivia.
“You say that like it’s an insult…We have less than an hour. Go to the bathroom, throw some cold water on your face and let’s get going,”Olivia instructed.
“How did you get in?”I asked, still a bit dazed.
“I used the spare keys you gave me.”
“Remind me to ask you for my keys back. Those are emergency purposes only, Olivia,”I reminded her. But I could see it was going in one ear and out the other. It was coming back to me why she was here…
Olivia looked at me with piercing blue eyes.“This is an emergency.”
“Please,this is so not an emergency–”
“Let’s agree to disagree, shall we? We don’t have all day. You could come in your pajamas, or you have exactly five minutes to throw on some clothes. Take your pick.”
I laughed.“All right then, calm down…”The look on her face was enough to make me rethink lying back down. I grabbed the clothes that I had taken off at the foot of the bed a few hours before and headed to the bathroom, quickly shuffling out of my pajamas and into my jeans and sweater.
“Hurry up, it is critical that we get there ASAP! Olivia yelled. “Doors open at 10am. If we don’t get there soon there will be nothing left!”
I paused, my hands on the zipper of my jeans. “The store hasn’t even opened yet?”I said.
“Are you crazy? No one is going to be out there! Only the three of us will be there when the doors open the day after Christmas because we are insane!”I zipped up my jeans, quickly brushed my teeth and threw cold water on my face to wake myself up a bit. Looking in the mirror, I cringed. My eyes were bloodshot; my hair was in knots. I needed a good combing and perhaps a bit of makeup to help me not look so horrid. I picked up my hairbrush in one hand and opened my makeup case with the other.
Olivia pushed her way into the bathroom and took the hairbrush from my hand. “Are you kidding? We have no time for all that!”She walked out and I picked up the brush again, trying to pass it through my hair to no avail.
“Here,”Olivia said, marching back in and handing me a pair of sunglasses.“You can fix your face later. Tie your hair up in a bun and put a hat on. Let’s go.”
I stared at her, shocked. Who was this woman? And where was my friend? Olivia never left the house without makeup unless it was an emergency, and even then she managed to put on mascara and lip gloss.
“Are you all right? I’ve never seen you like this. You weren’t even like this for your wedding. I don’t understand why we have to go so early. You know what would get me going? Breakfast! Let’s go eat first,”I said, giving her a soft smile.
Olivia grabbed my shoulders, almost hysterical.“Listen to what I’m about to say very carefully,”she said slowly. “My wedding was not the biggest sale Harrodshas. I’ve waited all year for this; they have nearly every major designer at a discount.”She stared at me, her hands still on my shoulders, waiting for me to react as if what she had just revealed was enough to convince me to run out of there like a mad woman. I vaguely remembered agreeing to this lunacy right before I left for the holidays. I figured she would have forgotten. At this moment, I wasn’t sure who was the crazy one: Olivia for coming up with the stupid idea of going to the sale, or me for having agreed to come back early to go with her. She was this worked up over clothes? I mean, I loved designer anything on sale but, right now, sleep was more important. And let’s not forget that she had practically broken into my apartment. I was in no mood at all.
“Really, Olivia, I think I should stay here. I don’t feel well, I can’t think straight…”
“What is there to think about?”she asked. “There are Christian Louboutins on sale, for God’s sake.”
I shrugged.“I’ve seen them on sale before. What’s the big deal?”
“Have you got them at seventy percent off before?”she asked.
My eyes widened, finally realizing why Olivia was in such afrenzy. She nodded with a smile, knowing that I had at last grasped the importance of this sale. I immediately began to calculate how much money I could save and started to grin like a cat. My jet lag was magically disappearing.
“Emma!”I called out.“Please put the coffee in my travel mug to go!”I turned to Olivia. “What are we still doing here? Chop chop, let’s go!”I said, putting on my sunglasses as we headed downstairs.
The three of us got in the elevator and I took a big gulp of coffee, burning my tongue in the process but not caring as the caffeine went through my system.
“Coffee making it better? Emma asked.
I nodded.“Keep them coming all day and I won’t hurt anyone. What tube are we taking?”I asked, taking another sip.
“The tube? Oh, honey, it’s Boxing Day, public transport is a nightmare. I’ve got a taxi waiting for us downstairs,”Olivia said. She had left nothing to chance. She looked at her watch, frowning, as we stepped outside and climbed into the taxi.
I leaned in toward Emma.“I don’t recall her ever having been like this over a sale before, have you?”
Emma shook her head inconspicuously. “It’s a bit frightening, I must say,”she whispered as Olivia gave instructions to the driver.
“Right, let’s go over the plan,”Olivia began once we were on the road.“Upon arrival, we immediately head to the shoe department and we don’t stop to see what’s happening on the ground floor, no matter how enticing the sales may seem –and, believe me, it will be very tempting. Do not get distracted. We have a mission. Once completed, we can go back and explore the store, but only after.”
Emma gave me a worried look. Olivia sounding like a shopping drill sergeant was quite intimidating. I had never bothered to come back to London in time for the post-Christmas sales, but the prospect of walking out with a pair of Louboutins for seventy percent off was enough for me to let Olivia be a raging maniac if it got me the shoes.
This was a strength of hers: she always found the posh sales. And I knew that one of my weaknesses was shoes. It had taken me twenty-odd years to discover my strengths and weaknesses. Ask any woman and she could tell you hers with absolute certainty. If I asked Emma, she would say her strengths lay in the arts, Olivia would say fashion, and as for me, I was certain about three things. The first was I had a shoe obsession and I was not ashamed to admit it. What woman didn’t? I loved all types. But my weakness, my absolute weakness, was designer shoes. Not just any designer shoes; on sale, steeply discounted ones. The rush that I got when I could say I had bought them at fifty percent off or more was unparalleled. Place me in the Sahara desert: if shoes were water, I would find them. Place me in a store and I could find the best pair of shoes at the best price. It was a gift. I had managed to acquire an exquisite collection (none at retail price) that I was extremely proud of. I still silently squealed sometimes going through my closet.
Shoes made me happy, and I certainly deserved happiness. I had always done what was expected of me. I was a good girl who had gone to college and carved out a very nice career for herself. I was moving up the ladder and, for the past five years, I had been living in London, a city that I’d longed to reside in since I was a child. And no, I do not speak with a British accent, though my friends back home say I sound more and more like a Brit every time they hear me. My friends here, however, can’t believe how strong my American accent is after having lived in London for so long.
Olivia sighed at the traffic.“Ridiculous! I did not sneak out of the house, leaving Brandon in bed, to be faced with the crap…”She leaned in towards the driver. “Excuse me, can you take Sloane Street?”
I lifted my shades and whispered to Emma.“Did she just say she snuck out?”
Emma nodded. “Snuck out on Brandon and his family,”she whispered back.
Olivia turned to face us, making Emma jump.“At this rate, there’ll be nothing left but the Collinses!”
I smiled at Olivia’s use of the term Collinses, because the second thing I knew about myself was that I loved Pride And Prejudice. My love for Pride And Prejudicewas eternal. I had read the book countless times, watched every cinema and television version ever made. I was so obsessed that I had concluded that there were four types of shoes every woman owned (and, in my opinion, the description fitted the men they dated, too): the Collinses, the Bingleys, the Wickhams and the Darcys. Yes, I had named them after the lead male characters of the book. We all had these shoes in our closets, under our beds, wherever we were able to store them.
Stop for a moment and think…How are these shoes similar to the men in our lives?Who doesn’t remember Mr Collins? Plain, boring, a tad ridiculous Mr Collins. Jane Austen described him as sensible and cautious. He was reliable; he wouldn’t give you any surprises, he was very predictable. Now, think of a pair of shoes that fit that description. Plain, no sparkle, no color outside of the basics…We all had a pair or two like this. There was nothing wrong with this type of shoe, it was reliable but boring–just like the men who were Collinses.
The Bingleys, now, these were the kittenheels, the shoes you would wear to feel prim and proper. When we wanted to feel good about ourselves, they did the job. Mr Bingley was “excessively handsome, extremely agreeable”. This man, you were proud to be seen with. We took care of these shoes and would wear them quite often.
The Wickhams were naughty and sinful shoes. “His appearance was greatly in his favor; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and a pleasing address…Mr Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned.”Just like the men, women lusted after these. They hurt like hell after a couple of hours but you endured the pain for the compliments. These shoes,I loved, andwere the type I had the most of in my closet. And thinking about the men I had dated, this was the one I knew the most about. What I really sought, however, was something altogether different–the Darcys.
For me, The Darcys were the crème de la crème: classic, elegant and almost annoyingly perfect. Even in the book, the ladies declared he was better than Mr Bingley. Austen described his “fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien”and you could say the same of the shoes –you knew they were something special. These were the designer shoes I got on sale. “I only wear Darcys,”is what I wanted to say. I immediately thought of my Jimmy Choos, my colorful Christian Louboutins, but I desired one kind above all else –they were harder to acquire because they never went on sale: the classic black Louboutins. My ultimate Darcy’s.No matter how I tried to justify it, I couldn’t commit to paying retail price. I would start to think about all that could go wrong; the heel would break or they would get scuffed. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head. I passed them in stores, longing to try them, afraid to do so.
Then, one day, somehow, I got lucky–or so I thought –and met my own real Mr Darcy. Only it turned out he was a cross between Mr Wickham and the devil; though, if I had to choose the lesser of the evils, the devil would probably be the winner.
Which led to the third thing I knew about myself: I had horrible taste in men. If a man was a shoe, I might as well walk barefoot!