Sophie Kinsella - Ive Got Your Number

ALSO BY SOPHIE KINSELLA

Confessions of a Shopaholic

Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

Shopaholic Ties the Knot

Can You Keep a Secret?

Shopaholic & Sister

The Undomestic Goddess

Shopaholic & Baby

Remember Me?

Twenties Girl

Mini Shopaholic

I won! I won the Scrabble game!

Everyone was gobsmacked. They pretended not to bebut they were. The raised eyebrows and astonished glances became more frequent and less guarded as the game went on. When I got that triple word score with saxatile, Felix actually broke out into applause and said, Bravo! And as we were tidying the kitchen afterward, Wanda asked me if Id ever thought of studying linguistics.

My name was entered in the family Scrabble book, Antony offered me the winners glass of port, and everyone clapped. It was such a sweet moment.

OK. I know it was cheating. I know it was a bad thing to do. To be honest, I kept expecting someone to catch me out. But I put the ring tone on silent and no one realized I was texting Sam all the way through.

And, yes, of course I feel guilty. Halfway through, I felt even worse when I texted Sam in admiration:, How do you know all these words?, and he replied, I dont. The internet does.

The internet ?

For a moment I felt too shocked to reply. I thought he was thinking of the words, not finding them on Scrabblewords.com or whatever.

Thats CHEATING!!!! I typed.

You already crossed that line, he texted back. Whats the difference? And then he added, Flattered you thought I was a genius.

Then, of course, I felt really stupid.

And he had a point. Once youve started cheating, does it matter what your methods are?

I know Im storing up problems for the future. I know Sam Roxton wont always be on the end of my phone to feed me words. I know I couldnt possibly repeat the feat. Which is why Im planning to retire from family Scrabble, as of tomorrow. It was a short, brilliant career. And now its over.

The only person who wasnt entirely fulsome in his praise was Magnus, which was a bit surprising. I mean, he said, Well done, along with everyone elsebut he didnt give me a special hug or even ask me how come I knew all those words. And when Wanda said, Magnus, you didnt tell us Poppy was so talented! he flashed her this quick smile and said, I told you, Poppys brilliant at everything. Which was nicebut kind of meaningless too.

The thing is he came in second.

He cant be jealous of me, surely?

Its about eleven now, and were back in my flat. Im half-tempted to go and talk to Magnus about it, but hes disappeared off to do some preparation for a lecture on Symbols and Symbolic Thought in Dante which hes giving tomorrow. So instead I curl up on the sofa and forward some emails which came in earlier for Sam.

After a few I cant help clicking my tongue with frustration. Half of these emails are reminders and chasers. He still hasnt replied about the conference accommodation at Chiddingford Hotel, or the Fun Run, or the dentist. Or the new James & James bespoke suit waiting for him to pick up at his convenience. How can you ignore new clothes?

There are only a few people he ever seems to reply to immediately. One is a girl called Vicks, who runs the PR department. Shes very businesslike and curt, just like him, and has been consulting him about some press launch theyre doing together. She often ccs Violets address, but by the time I forward the email, Sams already replied to her. Another is a guy called Malcolm, who asks Sams opinion about something nearly every hour. And, of course, Sir Nicholas Murray, whos clearly very senior and important and is doing some work for the government at the moment. He and Sam get on incredibly well, if their emails are anything to go by. They zing back and forth like conversation between old friends. I cant really understand half of what theyre sayingespecially all the in-jokesbut the tone is obvious, and so is the fact that Sam has more emails to and from Sir Nicholas than anybody else.

Sams company is evidently some kind of consultancy. They tell companies how to run their businesses and they do a lot of facilitating, whatever that is. I guess theyre like negotiators or mediators or something. They must be pretty successful at it, because Sam seems very popular. Hes been invited to three drinks parties this week alone and to a shooting event with a private bank next weekend. And a girl called Blue has emailed for the third time, asking if hed like to attend a special reception to celebrate the merger of Johnson Ellison with Greene Retail. Its at the Savoy, with a jazz band and canaps and goody bags.

And he still hasnt replied. Still.

I dont understand him. If Id been invited to something so amazing, I would have replied instantly, Yes, please! Thank you so much! I cant wait! . Whereas he hasnt even acknowledged it.

Rolling my eyes, I forward every single email, then type him a text:

Thx again for Scrabble! Have just sent on some new emails. Poppy

A moment later my phone rings. Its Sam.

Oh, hi I start.

OK, youre a genius, he interrupts. I had a hunch Vivien would be working late. I called her for a chat and mentioned the issues we discussed. It all came out. You were right. Were going to talk again tomorrow, but I think shes staying.

Oh, I say, pleased. Cool.

No, he says firmly. Not only cool. Awesome. Incredible. Do you know how much time and money and trouble you have saved me? I owe you, big-time. He pauses. Oh, and youre right, she hates being called Viv. So I owe you twice.

No problem! Anytime.

So thats all I had to say. I wont keep you.

Good night. Glad it all worked out. As I ring off, I remember something and quickly type a text.

Have u booked dentist yet? U will get manky teeth!!!

A few seconds later the phone bleeps with a reply:

Ill take my chances.

Take his chances? Is he nuts ? My aunt is a dental nurse, so I know what Im talking about.

I search the Web for the most gross, revolting photo of decaying teeth I can find. Theyre all blackened and some have fallen out. I click on send/share and text it to him.

The phone almost immediately bleeps with a reply:

You made me spill my drink.

I giggle and text back:

Be afraid!!!!

I nearly add: Willow wont be impressed when your teeth fall out!!! But then I stop, feeling awkward. You have to draw a line. Despite all the texting back and forth, I dont know this guy. And I certainly dont know his fiance.

Although the truth is, I feel as though I do know her. And not in a good way.

Ive never come across anyone or anything like Willow before. Shes unbelievable. I would say shes sent twenty emails to Sam since Ive had this phone. Each screwier than the last. At least shes given up sending messages addressed directly to Violet. But, still, she keeps ccing her emails to the PA address, as though she wants to have as much chance of reaching Sam as possible and doesnt care who sees what.

Why does she have to email her most private thoughts, anyway? Why cant they just have these conversations in bed, like normal people?

This evening she was going on about this dream shed had about him last night, and how she felt suffocated but ignored all at the same time, and did he realize how toxic he was? Did he realize how he was CORRODING HER SPIRIT????