Page 40 of Her Kensington
10
Summer
“I’ve already saidI’m not spending the day watching football,” Cassie sulks when she sees her brother in his Chelsea shirt with a matching scarf wrapped around his shoulders.
“You’re not coming. You’re going to get that school bag you want with Summer.”
She rips her dark eyes away from Harrison’s and they turn on me. My insides quiver with anticipation.
“Maybe football wouldn’t be so bad,” she mutters.
“CASSIE,” Harrison shouts. She’s not expecting it and flinches away from his booming voice. Her eyes instantly fill with water and her bottom lip trembles, showing me that she does in fact have a softer side. “I’m not asking you to start calling Summer Mum or anything, all I want is for you to get along.”
“Fine,” she mutters before disappearing from the room.
“I’m so sorry. I—”
“Don’t, it’s fine,” I say, cutting off Harrison’s apology. It’s not his fault that Cassie is struggling to accept me into her life. I can’t imagine how hard all of this must be for her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I can’t say I’m excited about what the day is going to hold, but there’s no time like the present. There’s no point in putting off getting to know Cassie because of her attitude. I don’t have any intention of going anywhere any time soon, so I may as well start as I mean to go on.
Harrison drops Cassie and me at the end of Oxford Street before him and Alfie continue on. Sucking in a huge breath, I turn to Cassie. “Where did you want to go?”
“Selfridges.”
“Selfridges? For a school bag?”
“Yes,” she states.
“Just remember you’ve got a budget.”
“Whatever.”
Silently, we walk side by side along the busy London street until we’re standing outside of the iconic department store. The thought of getting to experience everything it has to offer has excitement licking at my insides, even if I’ll refuse to spend the kind of money I’m sure they’ll be asking for.
I follow Cassie inside and she begins wandering through the purses. My eyes dart everywhere, looking at the stunning designs, the bright colours and the extortionate price tags.
“This is the one,” Cassie announces, pulling a pale blue Michael Kors bag from the display and placing it over her shoulder.
It’s stunning, but a school bag? Really? Memories of the tatty old rucksack I used to stuff my books into floats through my mind and I’m reminded of the many differences between my old and new life.
As Cassie stands in front of the mirror, posing, I quickly grab the label to check the price.
“How much?” I balk. “Your dad said no more than £150.” Which I still think is utterly insane, but it’s not my money.
“I know it’s a little over, but he won’t mind.”
“Cassie, you can’t have it. You’re going to have to pick a cheaper one.” Glancing around at the display. “What about this one?” I ask picking up what is essentially a smaller version of the one over her shoulder.
“That won’t be big enough.”
“Well, how about a different designer?” I don’t want to come across like the wicked stepmom, but Harrison set a budget and I won’t allow Cassie to think I’m a pushover. Letting her have the bag would be the easiest thing to do but it won’t help me in the long run.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. Your dad said no more than £150, so we’re not spending a penny over that.”
