Free Secrets at St Jude's: New Girl by Carmen Reid Page B

powder and had picked a buttercup-yellow top, which would have worked in sunny California but was too strident for the cool grey of Edinburgh.
    Niffy was the one who looked out of place in this shopping Mecca. She was wearing scuffed riding boots, oversized jeans and a big beige mac. Although it 90
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    was Saturday and there was every chance of bumping into the male of the species round every corner, Niffy’s only concession to make-up had been the application of Vaseline to several nasty lip cracks.
    While Amy and Gina bonded over Aveda blushers (‘This one’s nice – not too pink, not too red’; ‘Mmm
    . . . yummy’), Niffy continued with her diatribe: ‘This bottle of shampoo costs twenty-eight pounds – they’re having a laugh!’
    ‘Could you just shut up?’ Amy hissed, her patience finally snapping. ‘You’re a flaming bumpkin! You sound like my gran. And you know what? You could probably do with some of that! Look at your rat’s nest!’
    Amy took Niffy by the shoulders and turned her to face one of the store’s mirrors, so she could examine her curly mop, bundled up into a scrunchie.
    ‘Jason could be here – he could be in this shop, we could bump right into him and I’ll be with you, mop-head! Flapping about in your mac, looking like a scarecrow!’
    ‘Oh, this is all about Jason, is it?’ Niffy replied, but her eyes hadn’t left her reflection and it was hard to miss the hurt expression on her face.
    ‘Don’t, Amy,’ Gina broke in. ‘Niffy looks fine.’
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    ‘What about the trial size?’ Amy’s voice sounded a little less angry. ‘Why don’t you get the trial-size shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Honestly, it’s really good. No! You know what?’ As Amy took Niffy by the arm and led her round the corner, Gina recognized the zeal of a true fellow shopper.
    ‘Ta-da! This is the shampoo for you,’ Amy announced in front of the display. ‘Barielle shampoos, conditioners and nail care made from’ – she flourished a bottle under Niffy’s nose – ‘hoof oil.’
    ‘Really?’ Niffy exclaimed with enthusiasm. ‘Does it smell the same?’ She began unscrewing the lid of the bottle.
    ‘Oh, no doubt!’ Amy rolled her eyes.
    When Gina handed her credit card over to the woman behind the till, she hoped her mother wouldn’t mind too much.
    ‘You’ll have to get some warmer things,’ Lorelei had warned her, after all. ‘Even though it’s summer, summer in Scotland isn’t like anything you’re used to.
    Let’s put it this way – you won’t be needing your bikini, or the factor forty.’
    Gina’s purchase of two pairs of very expensive 92
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    jeans, two DKNY tops and a cute red jacket from Whistles had impressed Amy.
    ‘I’m going to get one of those tops too,’ she decided.
    ‘You don’t mind, do you? We’ll just wear them on different days.’
    ‘Sure, no problem.’ Gina had smiled at her, and suddenly Amy was her new best friend because this was just like going to Nordstrom’s with Ria and arguing about who was going to buy the pink one and who’d have to get the blue because they both adored it so much.
    When the shopping was over, it was time to ride the escalators up to the café on the top floor.
    ‘We’ll go to the toilets first,’ Amy instructed. ‘Check ourselves over. This café is really popular – everybody comes here . . . anybody could be here,’ and they knew exactly who she was thinking of.
    In Amy’s mind, the scene was playing. She would emerge from the Harvey Nichols toilets, hair freshly brushed, lip gloss applied, looking as gorgeous as possible. She would round the corner into the café and there, bathed in the late afternoon sun streaming in through the huge windows, would be Jason, alone, sipping moodily at a cappuccino (or did he drink espresso?). Well . .