Maeve feels a pleasant sense of déjà vu as she rattles through the sale rail at Baby Gap. It's so nice to be back in London, with nothing to do but browse and lunch. She and Sinead are on their autumn shopping spree, which they thoroughly deserve after the summer they've had, tethered like goats in Rosslare.
They've even got their old room in the nice little hotel near Baker Street that Maeve read about in Tatler. Now the only pity is that she doesn't know anyone with a new baby, as there are real bargains in 0-3 month babygros, and everything else is so expensive. She likes to get the children sweatshirts and PJs from Gap - such good quality - and sadly there is always plenty around in Stephen's XXL size. I mean, how do Englishmen keep themselves so slim when Irish men are so ... lardy!
They feel like old hands working their way from Knightsbridge up towards Bond Street, but then are they being too timid, Sinead wonders? Should they not at least try Roberto Cavalli to see what all the fuss is about? Maeve, who had a bit of an incident earlier in Armani, when the claws of her five-stone diamond ring got caught in some expensive chiffon number and pulled a thread out of it, is happiest floating around Harrods designer floor where you see pretty much everything without anyone annoying you. Then she does like to get those special biscuits for Mummy in the Food Hall, even if they do cost £20.
Sinead, who has the better figure, is a bit more adventurous and after a glass of wine at lunch veers off on her own and buys a very queer and very dear jacket from Paul Smith. "Well, if Declan can go ordering a new sit-on mower ..." she says to Maeve over dinner at Jamie Oliver's restaurant - booked weeks in advance though they could only get a 6 p.m. sitting.
Both are acutely aware of how little the woman at the next table is eating - and what is she wearing, is that an old granny slip under her leather jacket? - but God she's thin. They feel a bit like the hefty country cousins come to town, but it doesn't stop them having a second go at the bread when that gorgeous boy brings it around again.
Maeve is cross that, yet again, the whole trip is being dictated by the state of her feet. She's absolutely hobbled with the pain and will have to get her bunion looked at soon, before it needs a shoe of its own. It just means they have to take black cabs everywhere, as those Underground corridors are a killer. Next day they do Selfridges from top to bottom and end up with some perfectly plain white cups and saucers. At the last minute, Maeve goes mad and buys a long droopy outfit in Liberty. "Is it a bit shroud-like?" Stephen asks her when, totally exhausted, she finally gets home. And if that's not bad enough, the sweatshirt she bought him turns out to be too small after all.