The Naughty Girls Book Club. Sophie Hart

anymore? Sue wondered sadly, putting it back and walking hastily away.

      She caught the escalator back down to the ground floor, weaving her way through the perfume hall where a sales assistant wearing too much make-up tried to spray her with the latest celebrity fragrance. Sue politely declined, drifting over to the Chanel counter and wondering if she should splash out on a bottle of perfume. Perhaps Chanel No. 19 – she’d always loved that one. It had been her favourite when she was younger, when she and her husband, George, were first courting. But how could she justify it now? George would say she was being frivolous, frittering away their pension money on luxuries she didn’t need.

      Before she could be tempted by anything else, Sue walked briskly towards the exit signs, leaving the department store and heading out onto the street. For a moment, she was shocked by how quiet it was, but then she realised it was Tuesday morning – hardly prime shopping time. Most people were in work right now, she reminded herself. Not everyone was retired, like she was.

      She checked her watch to find it was almost 11.30 a.m. The afternoon seemed to stretch out in front of her, yawning and empty without anything to fill it. What on earth was she going to do with the rest of the day?

      Since Sue had retired three months ago, she’d encountered this problem on a regular basis. At first, she’d been looking forward to it, eagerly planning all the things she would do with her new-found freedom – travel, read, try out new recipes, perhaps take up yoga or learn a new language. After all, there were evening classes in practically everything at the local college, and she would be spoilt for choice. But somehow, it hadn’t quite worked out that way.

      The long, lazy lie-ins that Sue had envisaged had never happened. Her body clock still woke her at seven a.m. each day, and while George slept on beside her, she would rise quietly to make a start on cleaning the house – she couldn’t help herself. Without fail, she would blow-dry her hair and apply a little make-up, worrying that if she let her standards slide now, she might never get them back. It would be the start of a long slow descent into slobbing out and not caring about how she looked, like one of those people on The Jeremy Kyle Show.

      This morning, Sue had decided to treat herself to a shopping trip. She’d come into Bristol city centre with the aim of spending a leisurely, indulgent few hours browsing the new season fashions. It was something she used to love doing, and something she never quite had the time for when she was working. This morning’s trip, however, had only depressed her even more. Why bother buying nice clothes if you never had occasion to wear them? She could hardly sport a fitted pencil skirt to do the vacuuming, or a smart tailored suit to do the washing up.

      Maybe she should go food shopping instead. Yes, that might solve the problem. She could plan an elaborate menu for this evening’s meal and spend a good chunk of the afternoon preparing it, then she could—

      ‘Sue?’ a voice called. ‘I thought it was you!’

      ‘Sandra!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘How are you?’

      ‘Good, thanks! I’m just taking an early lunch break as I’m on my way to the dentist’s. How about you? You must be spending the day shopping like the lady of leisure you are now – lucky thing!’

      Sue smiled weakly. She and Sandra had worked together at the Windlesham Group, a large insurance firm based in the city. Sue had joined the company over twenty years ago, after her two children had started school and she’d gone back to work part-time. She’d seen the firm go through huge changes over the years, expanding from a start-up business with a handful of staff, to a thriving corporation that employed almost two hundred people. Sue’s own role had grown in line with Windlesham’s development, and by the time she retired, she was head of Human Resources, overseeing the entire department.

      ‘So how is everyone?’ Sue changed the subject. ‘Tell me all the gossip.’

      ‘Oh, there’s nothing to tell really.’ Sandra waved her hand dismissively. ‘Same old, same old. Although Richard Maynard got promoted to head of UK Operations – can you believe it? None of us saw that coming! And Tessa Stevenson is pregnant again. She’s due in June, so we’re still deciding what to do about that. We might get a temp in, or it’s possible we can split her workload between Dan and Aisha …’

      As Sandra chattered on, Sue realised just how out of the loop she felt. They might have been uneventful, everyday happenings as far as Sandra was concerned, but they felt like a lifeline for Sue.

      ‘And how’s Beverley getting on?’ she asked, referring to her replacement. Beverley was in her early forties, two decades younger than sixty-two-year-old Sue, and had made a big step up by taking on Sue’s position.

      ‘Oh, she’s fine. Taken to it like a duck to water, as they say. Not that we’re not missing you, of course,’ Sandra added hastily. ‘We’ve had to take on some new people as the company’s expanding again. Windlesham’s have won a big new contract with Bristol council, and there’s talk of moving to new offices – perhaps that fancy new business park out near Filton.’

      Sue swallowed, forcing herself to smile brightly. Everyone was managing just fine without her – better, in fact. She knew it was irrational, but it made her feel utterly useless.

      ‘So what have you been up to?’ Sandra asked eagerly. ‘I remember you had all these plans when you were leaving. It must be wonderful having so much free time to do exactly what you want.’

      ‘Oh, I haven’t been doing much really …’ Sue replied vaguely. ‘We’re thinking of going on holiday soon, but we’re still deciding where.’

      ‘Ooh, that sounds lovely. You’re so lucky, not having to work anymore. I guess I’ll just keep playing the lottery and crossing my fingers!’

      Sue laughed politely.

      ‘Anyway, I must dash,’ Sandra continued. ‘You remember how lunch breaks always fly by – we can’t all be ladies of leisure!’

      ‘Send my love to everyone,’ Sue told her, as Sandra waved a hasty goodbye and dashed off down the street.

      For a moment, Sue remained motionless, frozen to the spot in the middle of the pavement. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window and almost didn’t recognise herself. Who was that old woman, with the grey hair and the lined face? Inside, she felt as though she was in her twenties, a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. But the reflection told a very different story.

      Suddenly overcome by an overwhelming desire to escape, Sue turned on her heel and hurried towards the car park. This whole shopping expedition had been a disaster, and she didn’t want to stay here any longer. She wanted to be back at home, in the safety of her own house – not some stupid old woman out roaming the streets, vainly searching for a purpose.

      George was snoozing in the armchair, a copy of the Daily Mail crumpled in his lap and Radio 4 playing in the background, when Sue walked in. The slam of the door jolted him awake, and he bolted upright, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. His reading glasses had slid down his nose, and he pushed them hastily back up before straightening out his paper.

      ‘George?’ Sue called out, as she opened the living room door.

      ‘I didn’t expect you to be back so early,’ he confessed, trying not to look guilty. He knew Sue didn’t like him lazing around the house, especially when it was only a couple of hours since he’d got out of bed. In George’s mind, he didn’t see what the problem was. Neither of them had anywhere they needed to be, so what did it matter if he chose to have a little mid-morning nap? Fortunately for George, Sue seemed distracted, and failed to notice her husband’s sleep-lined face and bedraggled appearance.

      ‘I wasn’t really in the mood for shopping,’ she shrugged disconsolately.

      ‘Oh.’

      They sat in silence for a few moments, George wondering if it was acceptable to go back to reading his paper.

      ‘Guess who I saw today?’ Sue began.

      ‘Um