WHEN I GET HOME that night, there’s a pile of post in the hall for me – but I ignore it because my
Package from Fine Frames has arrived! It cost me £100 to buy, which is quite expen-sive, but apparently
It will give you a return of £300 in only a few hours. Inside the package there’s a leaflet full of
Photographs of people who make fortunes from doing Fine Frames – some of them make a hundred
Thousand a year! It makes me wonder what I’m doing, being a journalist.
So after supper, I sit down in front of Changing Rooms and open the kit. Suze is out tonight, so it’s nice
And easy to concen-trate.
“Welcome to the best-kept secret in Britain. . .” says the leaflet. “The Fine Frames home-working
Family! Join other members and earn £££ in the comfort of your own home. Our easy-to-follow
Instructions will aid you as you embark on the biggest money-making enterprise of your life. Perhaps you
Will use your earnings to buy a car, or a boat – or to treat someone special. And remember – the amount
You earn is completely up to you!”
I’m utterly gripped. Why on earth haven’t I done this before? This is a fantastic scheme! I’ll work
Incredibly hard for two weeks, then pay off all my debts, go on holiday, and buy loads of new clothes.
I start ripping at the packaging, and suddenly a pile of fabric strips falls onto the floor. Some are plain,
And some are a flowered pattern. It’s a pretty hideous pattern actually – but then, who cares? My job is
Just to make the frames and collect the money. I reach for the instructions and find them under a load of
Card-board pieces. And sure enough, they’re incredibly simple. What you have to do is glue wadding
Onto the cardboard frame, put the fabric over the top for that luxury upholstered effect, then
glue braid
Along the back to hide the join. And that’s it! It’s completely simple and you get £2 a frame. There are
150 in the package – so if I do thirty a night for a week I’ll have made three hundred quid just like that in
My spare time!
OK, let’s get started. Frame, wadding, glue, fabric, braid.
Oh God. Oh God. Who designed these bloody things? There just isn’t enough fabric to fit over the
Frame and the wadding. Or at least you have to stretch it really hard – and it’s such flimsy fabric, it rips.
I’ve got glue on the carpet, and I’ve bent two of the cardboard frames from pulling them, and the only
Frame I’ve actually completed looks really wonky. And I’ve been doing it for. . .
I yawn, look at the time, and feel a jolt of shock. It’s eleven-thirty, which means I’ve been working for
Three hours. In that time I’ve made one dodgy-looking frame which I’m not sure they’ll accept, and
Ruined two. And I was supposed to be making thirty!
At that moment the door opens and Suze is back.
“Hi!” she says, coming into the sitting room. “Nice evening?”
“Not really,” I begin disgruntledly. “I’ve been making these things. . .”
“Well, never mind,” she says dramatically. “Because guess what? You’ve got a secret admirer.”
“What?” I say, startled.
“Someone really likes you,” she says, taking off her coat. “I heard it tonight. You’ll never guess who!”
Luke Brandonpops into my mind before I can stop it. How ridiculous. And how would Suze have found
That out, anyway? Stupid idea. Very stupid. Impossible.
She could have bumped into him at the cinema, whispers my brain. She does know him, after all,
Doesn’t she? And he could have said. . .
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