The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic

That's the other really weird thing. God knows how – but I know the answers to all the questions. I know about mortgages, and I know about life assurance, and I know about pensions. I know this stuff! A few minutes ago, Ke

'If I were you, A

'Thanks,' says A

'Well, I hope that helps you, A

'Lots of people with money problems out there,' chimes in Rory.

'Absolutely,' "says Emma. 'And we want to help. So whatever your query, however big or small, please call in for Rebecca Bloomwood's advice, on 0333 4567.'

She freezes for a moment, smiling at the camera, then relaxes back in her chair as the light goes off. 'Well, this is going very well!' she says brightly, as a make-up girl hurries up and touches up her face with powder. 'Isn't it, Zelda?'

'Fantastic!' says-Zelda, appearing from out of the gloom. 'The lines haven't been this busy since we did "I'd like to meet a Spice Girl".' She looks curiously at me. 'Have you ever done a course in television presenting, Rebecca?'

'No,' I say honestly. 'I haven't. But… I've watched a lot of telly.'

Zelda roars with laughter.

'Good answer! OK, folks, we're back in thirty.'

Emma smiles at me and consults the piece of paper in front of her, and Rory leans back and examines his nails. They're treating me like a fellow professional, I think joyfully. They're treating me like one of them.

I've never felt so completely and utterly happy. Never. Not even that time I found a Vivie

I lean back, full of contentment and am idly looking around the studio when an oddly familiar figure catches my eye. I peer harder, and my skin starts to prickle in horror. There's a man standing in the gloom of the studio – and honestly, I must be hallucinating or something, because he looks exactly like-

'And… welcome back,' says Rory and my attention snaps back to the set. 'This morning's phone-in is on financial problems, big and small. Our guest expert is Rebecca Bloomwood and our next caller is Fran from Shrewsbury. Fran?'

'Yes,' says Fran. 'Hi. Hi, Rebecca.'

'Hi there, Fran,' I say, smiling warmly. 'And what seems to be the trouble?'

'I'm in a mess,' says Fran. 'I… I don't know what to do.'

'Are you in debt, Fran?' says Emma gently.

'Yes,' says Fran, and gives a shaky sigh. 'I'm overdrawn, I owe money on all my credit cards, I've borrowed money off my sister…, and I just can't stop spending. I just… love buying things.'

'What sort of things?' says Rory interestedly.

'I don't know, really,' says Fran after a pause. 'Clothes for me, clothes for the kids, things for the house, just rubbish, really. Then the bills arrive… and I throw them away.'

Emma gives me a significant look, and I raise my eyebrows back.

'Rebecca?' she says. 'Fran's obviously in a bit of a spot. What should she be doing?'

'Well, Fran,' I say kindly. 'The first thing you've got to do is be brave, and confront your problem. Contact the bank and tell them you're having trouble managing. They're not monsters! They want to help.' I turn directly to the camera and look earnestly into the lens. 'Ru

'I know,' comes Fran's wobbly voice. 'I know you're right. But it's not easy.'

'I know' I say sympathetically. I know it's not. Just hang in there, Fran.'

'Rebecca,' says Emma. 'Would you say this a common problem?'

'I'm afraid it is,' I reply, turning back to her. 'Sadly, a lot of people out there simply don't put financial security first.'

'Oh dear,' says Emma, shaking her head sorrowfully.

'That's not good.'

'But it's never too late,' I continue. 'As soon as they turn that corner, and wake up to their responsibilities, their lives are transformed.'

I make a confident sweeping gesture with my arm, and as I do so, my gaze takes in the whole studio. And … Oh my God it's him.

I'm not hallucinating.

It's really him. Standing at the corner of the set, wearing a security badge and sipping something in a polystyrene cup as though he belongs here. Derek Smeath is standing here in the Morning Coffee studios, ten yards away fromme.

Derek Smeath of Endwich Bank.

But it… it can't be.

But it is. It's Derek Smeath. I don't understand.

What's he doing here?

Oh God, and now he's staring straight at me.

My heart begins to pound, and I swallow hard, trying to keep control of myself.

'Rebecca?' Emma says, and I force myself to turn my attention back to the show. I can't even remember what we're talking about. 'So you think Fran should go and see her bank manager?'

'I… ahm…, that's right,' I say, my cheeks suddenly burning red.

What am I going to do? He's staring right at me. I can't escape.

'So,' says Emma. 'You think that once Fran faces up to reality, she'll be able to get her life in order.'

'That's right,' I say like an automaton, and force myself to smile brightly at Emma. But underneath, my confident happiness is evaporating. Derek Smeath is here. I can't block him out of my vision; I can't forget about him.

And now all the parts of my life I'd so carefully buried at the back of my mind are starting to worm their way out again. I don't want to remember any of them – but I've got no choice. Here they come, wriggling into my mind, one piece of horrible reality after another.

'Well,' says Rory. 'Let's all hope Fran takes Rebecca's very good advice.'

My row with Suze. My disastrous date with Tarquin. A nasty cold feeling starts trickling down my spine.

'Now our next caller,' says Emma, 'is John from Luton. John?'

'Hi, Rebecca,' 'comes a voice down the line. 'Thing is, I was given an insurance policy when I was a child, but I've lost all the papers. And now I'd like to get hold of the dosh, know what I mean?'

My VISA card, cancelled. My Octagon card, confiscated in front of that whole crowd. God, that was humiliating.

OK, stop it. Concentrate. Concentrate.

'This is actually quite a common problem,' I hear myself saying. 'Do you remember which company the policy was with?'

'No,' says John. 'Not a clue.'

My bank account. Thousands of pounds of debt.

Derek Smeath.

Oh God. I feel sick. I want to run and hide somewhere.

'Well, you still should be able to trace it,' I continue, forcing myself to keep smiling. 'You could start with an agency which specializes in this sort of thing. I can check this for you, but I think their name is…'

My whole terrible, disorganized life. It's all there, isn't it? Waiting for me, like a great big spider. Just waiting to pounce, as soon as this phone-in ends.

'We're out of time, I'm afraid,' says Emma, as I come to an end. 'Many thanks to our financial expert, Rebecca Bloomwood, and I'm sure we'll all be heeding her wise words. Coming up after the break, the results of our makeover in Newcastle and Heaven Sent 7, live in the studio.'