Shopaholic And Sister Part 25

"So!" I say. "What would you like to do?"

"I'm easy," Jess says with a shrug.

"It's up to you! Totally!"

"I don't really mind." Jess sips her tea.

The kitchen is still and quiet, apart from the tap dripping slowly into the sink.

Which is fine. This is just one of those companionable, quiet moments you can have with members of your family. In fact, it shows we're easy with each other. It's not remotely awkward or anything- Oh G.o.d, speak. Please.

"I'd like to do some weight training," says Jess suddenly. "I normally work out every day. But I haven't had time this week."

"Right!" I say in delight. "That's a brilliant idea! I'll do it too!"

"Really?" Jess looks surprised.

"Of course!" I take a final sip of tea, then put my cup down. "I'll just go and get ready!"

What a marvelous idea. Doing exercise together will be totally bonding! We can go to Taylor's Health Club round the corner, where I'm a gold member, do a bit of a workout, and then head to the juice bar. I know the juice bar will be open, because I've been there loads of times before at about this hour of the day.

And I should think the gym bit will be open too, downstairs.

Or is it upstairs?

Anyway. Wherever it is.

I yank open my wardrobe doors and pull out my drawer full of gym kit. I could wear my Juicy tracksuit, except I might get too hot . . . or that really cool pink top, except I've seen a girl in the juice bar wearing the same exact one. . . .

At last I select some black leggings with retro piping up the sides, plus a white T-s.h.i.+rt and my fab hi-tech trainers that I got in the States. They cost quite a lot, but then, as the leaflet points out, they are biomechanically balanced with a dual-density midsole. Plus their advanced engineering means you can take them seamlessly from the marathon track to the outdoor terrain of the trail hike.

I quickly put on the whole outfit, tie my hair up in a ponytail, and add my cool Adidas sports watch. (Which just shows how wrong Luke is. I knew I would need a sports watch one day.) I hurry to the guest room and knock on the door.

"Hi!"

"Come in." Jess's voice sounds m.u.f.fled and kind of weird. Cautiously I push open the door. She's changed into old gray shorts and a cropped T-s.h.i.+rt and to my surprise is lying on the floor.

Doing sit-ups, I suddenly realize as her entire torso rises off the ground. Blimey. She's quite good at them. And I've never seen such a muscled stomach, except in a Cindy Crawford video.

Now she's doing those twisty ones that I've never been able to manage more than about three of.

"So . . . shall we go?" I say.

"Go where?" Jess says without missing a beat.

"To the gym! I thought you wanted to . . ." I trail off as she starts raising her legs off the ground too.

OK, now that's just showing off.

"I don't need to go anywhere. I can work out here."

Here? Is she serious? But there aren't any mirrors. There isn't any MTV. There isn't a juice bar.

My gaze falls on a snakelike scar at the top of Jess's s.h.i.+n. I'm about to ask how she did it, when she catches me looking and flushes red.

Maybe she's sensitive. I'd better not mention it.

"Don't you need weights?" I say instead.

"I've got them." She reaches in her rucksack and pulls out two old water bottles filled with sand.

Those are her weights?

"I wouldn't go near a gym," she says, starting to raise the bottles above her head. "Waste of money. Half the people who join gyms never go, anyway. They buy expensive outfits and never even wear them. What's the point in that?"

"Oh, absolutely!" I say quickly. "I totally agree."

Jess stops and adjusts her grip on one of the weights. Then her eye falls on the back of my leggings.

"What's that?" she says.

"Er . . ." I reach round with my hand.

d.a.m.n. It's the price tag hanging out.

"Er . . . nothing!" I say, hastily tucking it in. "I'll just go and get some . . . weights of my own."

As I return from the kitchen with two bottles of Evian, I can't help feeling a bit disconcerted. This isn't exactly what I had in mind. I'd pictured the two of us running effortlessly along on adjacent machines, with some upbeat song playing and the spotlights making our hair look all s.h.i.+ny.

Anyway, never mind.

"So . . . I'll follow you, shall I?" I say, joining Jess on the carpet.

"I'm going on to some biceps work," says Jess. "It's pretty straightforward." She starts raising her arms up and down, and I copy what she's doing. G.o.d, she exercises quite fast, doesn't she?

"Shall I put on some music?" I say after a few moments.

"I don't need music," says Jess.

"No. Neither do I," I say quickly.

My arms are starting to ache. This can't be good for them, surely. I glance at Jess, but she's steadfastly pumping away. Casually I lean down, pretending to adjust my shoelace. Then suddenly I have a thought.

"I won't be a moment," I say, and hurry out to the kitchen again. A few moments later I'm back, holding two slim silver bottles.

"Here's a health drink," I say, proudly holding one out to Jess. "So you can rebalance."

"So I can what?" Jess puts down her weights with a frown.

"It says it on the bottle, look," I explain. "It has a unique blend of life-enhancing vitamins and herbs."

Jess is scanning the label.

"It's just sugar and water. Look. Water . . . glucose syrup . . ." She puts it down. "No, thanks."

"But it's got special properties!" I say in surprise. "It rebalances, revitalizes, and moisturizes your skin from the inside."

"How does it do that?"

"I . . . don't know."

"How much is it?" Jess picks the bottle up again and looks at the price tag. "It's 2.95!" She seems totally scandalized. "Three pounds for some sugar and water? You could buy a twenty-kilo sack of potatoes for that!"

"But . . . I don't want a twenty-kilo sack of potatoes."

"Then you should!" says Jess. "Potatoes are one of the most nutritious, cost-effective foods available." She eyes me reprovingly. "People underestimate them. But did you know a potato in its skin has more vitamin C than an orange?"

"Er . . . no," I say nervously. "No, I didn't."

"You could live off potatoes and milk." She starts hefting her weights again. "You'd get practically every nutrient the body needs, just from those two."

"Right!" I say. "That's . . . really good! Er . . . I'll just go and have a shower."

As I close the door of the bedroom, I feel totally bewildered. What was all that about potatoes? I'm not even sure how we got onto the subject.

I head down the corridor and see Luke through the door of the study, getting something down from a shelf.

"You look very sportif," he says, glancing up. "Going to the gym?"

"Jess and I have been working out together," I reply, flicking my ponytail.

"Excellent. So you're getting along?"

"We're getting along brilliantly!" I say, and carry on along the corridor.

Which . . . I think is true. Although to be honest, it's a bit hard to tell with Jess. She doesn't exactly overwhelm you.

But anyway, so far so good. And now we've done our workout, we can reward ourselves! What we need is a few drinks, and a bit of a party atmosphere and some music. Then we'll really loosen up.

As I shower, I start to feel excited. You cannot beat a good girls' night in. Suze and I had so many great evenings when we were living together. There was the time Suze had been dumped by her awful boyfriend and we spent the whole evening sending off forms in his name to receive impotence cures. There was the time we made mint juleps and both nearly got alcohol poisoning. There was the time we decided to become redheads-and then had to find a twenty-four-hour hairdresser. And then there were lots of evenings when nothing special happened . . . except we watched movies and ate pizza and talked and laughed, and had a good time.

I pause, halfway through toweling my hair. It's weird, not speaking to Suze anymore. She hasn't called once since I told her about having a sister. Nor have I called her. My chin stiffens. But that's what happens in life. People find new friends and new sisters. It's called natural selection.

And Jess and I will have a fab time tonight. Better than I ever had with Suze.

I throw on some jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt with SISTERHOOD emblazoned in silver, then turn on my dressing table lightbulbs and get out every single item of makeup I own. I rummage in a box under the bed and retrieve my three wigs, four hairpieces, false eyelashes, spray glitter, and temporary tattoos. Then I open up my special cupboard, where all my shoes are stored.

I love my shoe cupboard.

I mean, I love my shoe cupboard. It is the best thing in the entire world! All my shoes are arranged in gorgeous rows, and there's even a built-in light so you can see them properly. I look with satisfaction along the rows of L.K. Bennetts and Jimmy Choos for a few moments, then choose all the most fun, spangly high-heeled ones and toss them onto the bed.

Ready for the makeovers!

Next the sitting room. I spread all my favorite videos out in a fan on the floor, and add piles of magazines. Back in the kitchen I empty crisps, popcorn, and sweets into bowls, light some candles, and get out the champagne. As I look around the kitchen the granite is gleaming, and the stainless steel sparkles in the light. It looks so pretty!

It's nearly six o'clock. Jess must have finished working out by now. I head to the guest room and tap on the door.

"Jess?" I say tentatively.

No answer. She must be in the shower or something.

But as I head to the kitchen, I suddenly hear her voice coming from the study. That's weird. I gently push open the door-and there's Jess, sitting at the computer with Luke and Gary on either side of her, peering at the screen, where I can see Luke's head, talking against a green background.

"You can superimpose the graphics like this," she's saying, tapping at the keyboard. "And synchronize with the sound track. I can do it for you, if you like."

"What's going on?" I say in surprise.

"It's our new corporate CD," says Luke. "The guys who did it had no b.l.o.o.d.y idea. The whole thing needs reediting."

"Your sister is a real whiz at this software!" says Gary.

"I just know it backwards," says Jess, clicking rapidly. "The whole university went over to it a year ago. And I'm a bit of a techie. I like this kind of stuff."

"That's fantastic!" I say. I hover at the door for a few moments as Jess taps at the keyboard some more. "So . . . do you want to come and have a drink? I've got everything ready for our girls' night in."

"I'm sorry," says Luke, looking at me in sudden realization. "I'm keeping you, Jess. We'll be OK from here. But thanks!"

"Thanks!" echoes Gary.

They're both looking at her with such admiration, I can't help but feel a tiny bit jealous.

"Come on!" I say brightly. "There's champagne waiting."

"Thanks again, Jess," says Luke. "You're a star!"

"No problem." Jess gets up and follows me out of the room.

"Men!" I say as soon as I'm out of earshot. "All they think about is computers!"

"I like computers," says Jess.