A Vintage Christmas (9 page)

‘Not a word,’ I say to Lily and I slump forward disconsolately. She purses her lips prettily and delicately pours tea through a strainer into my pretty vintage china cup before sitting down next to me, back perfectly straight like a ballerina, feet tucked behind the leg of a chair like they’re
en pointe.
She taps my chin, then my rounded shoulders with her manicured fingers and then waves her hands to encourage me to sit up.

‘Remember your posture, Evie darling?’ I do remember because she says it to me all the time. I make a concerted effort to sit up. ‘If you have good posture you hold the secret to eternal youth,’ she adds. I immediately slouch back down towards the table.

‘If I’m going to die alone I may as well start the aging process now’, I tell her miserably.

‘Oh shush now Evie!’ she admonishes. You are not going to die alone. And if you did it would not be so disastrous. Look at me and Iris! We’re happy to die alone, aren’t we dear?’

‘Alone? Yes! Exactly! What?’ Iris pauses on her way back from clearing a table and then looks confused, readjusting her little green Elf hat as if she’s not sure whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. Even Felix, who is sitting with us – and wearing full Santa garb – manages to look offended. ‘Oh, come now darlings,’ Lily admonishes. ‘You know what I mean. These young girls must learn it’s not about having someone to love but learning to love oneself! However,’ she quickly changes her tune, ‘Sam is a very good person to be loved by, so I insist you don’t give up on him!’

‘I haven’t.
He’s
the one that buggered off abroad for weeks on end, Lily.’ I say petulantly. I stir my tea rigorously and she kisses me on the forehead before gently removing the spoon from my hand as the whirlpool of tea threatens to engulf the saucer.

‘She’s right, Lil. It’s not very, you know, gallant of him,’ Felix says, ever my loyal sidekick. ‘I expected more of the lad, really I did.’ I look at him gratefully. He takes a sip of his tea and wipes his fake white beard with the back of his hand but some brown droplets remain stubbornly attached.

‘Not everyone has your... high standards, Felix,’ Lily says, winking jokily at me and then handing him a perfectly pressed, handkerchief monogrammed with her initials. He looks at it as if not sure what he’s meant to do with it, so she gently takes it back from him and dabs around his mouth. It’s a gentle, loving act that makes me want to weep all over again.

‘It’s really not like Sam at all,’ Iris adds. ‘Maybe he got lost?’

I shake my head slowly.

‘Have you tried texting him?’ Lily presses. I shake my head. ‘Facebooked?’ And again. ‘IM’d? Twittered?’

‘Nope.’ I can’t even summon the energy to correct her.

‘Poked?’ she continues unabashedly.

‘She should be so lucky,’ Iris intercepts and then puts her hand over her mouth in horror. ‘Sorry, Evie, that was terribly crude and insensitive. I don’t know where that came from!’

I try to soften her dismay. ‘It’s fine Iris. You’re right. I
was
so lucky. I just can’t believe I’ve gone and messed everything up.’ I put my head between my hands again and groan.

‘Oh go on with you, girl,’ Lily scolds. ‘You haven’t messed anything up, you just told him how you feel, laid it down on the table, set out the clear parameters of the relationship. It’s what any sensible modern girl should do. No harm in that at all!’

‘No harm apart from the fact she hasn’t seen him since,’ Felix mutters. I see Lily turn to him and make a throat cutting action with her hand and he spits out his tea.

I can’t help it, I start crying, furiously wiping away my tears. ‘Oh Evie my poor gal,’ Felix says, enveloping me in a hug. ‘I’m sorry, Lily’s right! He’s bound to come running back once he realises what he stands to lose!’ He looks at me softly and places his hand over mine. ‘If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Sam loves you. He wouldn’t bin what you two have over one stupid disagreement. He’ll be back, mark my words.’

There is a murmur of agreement from Lily and Iris before they both scurry off to serve a flurry of exhausted, red-faced Christmas shoppers, clutching armfuls of green Hardy’s bags, desperately in need of caffeine and sugar.

‘And what if he isn’t Felix?’ I ask gravely. ‘Seriously, what the hell am I going to do without him?’

He squeezes my hand. ‘You’ll survive, my dear, you’ll survive.’

Chapter 8

Friday 20th December

4 shopping days till Christmas

The official launch for
Angelo’s
exclusive shoe collection has finally come. I’ve been at work this morning since 6am, and as the early morning darkness lifts I decide to leave the store for a breath of fresh air. I want to do a final check of the windows before we open in an hour. As I step outside I’m surprised to discover that it is one of those December days that I often dream about. The sky is a swirl of whipped cream and a magical thick white mist has settled over London town. Hardy’s clock has even disappeared amidst it all. Not only that, but an enthusiastic queue of shivering, ready-to-shop people has gathered outside the store. They don’t notice me slip out the staff entrance, wrapped up in a coat, lost amongst their bodies. I stand there amongst them for a few minutes, taking some calming breaths as I gaze at them all.

I know I should be filled with excitement at the sight of this big crowd, but the dull ache that has taken over since I last saw Sam at the weekend has grown bigger every day. He came back from his trip and things seemed much better. He was happy and relaxed, we even managed to go out for dinner and he was being really supportive about the launch. This time, I thought he was back for good. But then he disappeared off again on Wednesday and the flat has seemed yawningly, cavernously empty without him. He texted me this morning to say he was caught up with work and would hopefully be back in time to come to the launch today. I don’t hold out much hope though.

I’ve tried to detach myself slightly, as I have to focus on
Angelo’s
, but also because I’m protecting myself from getting too hurt. Preparing myself for it, more like. Too late I’ve realised that there’s a big difference between not seeing someone very much and them not being there at all. I know now that I’ve been taking Sam for granted. I didn’t make the most of him or our relationship because I thought he would always just be there. I didn’t look after it and now I have to face the fact that I may have lost the best thing I’ve ever had.

I look up, blinking back tears as the mist swirls in front of the sparkling, fairy lit shop windows, like a mystical cloud. I walk back inside, slip my coat off and take the grand central staircase, running my hand along the banister that has been entwined with holly and ivy. The entire store is awash with our now legendary vintage decorations, bottle brush snow-capped Christmas tree ornaments lined up along window sills, hundreds of snow globes suspended from ceilings like exposed light bulbs; reams of paper chains, canopies of fairy lights and mistletoe balls, give the store a timeless quality. Here in the shoe department a mass of busy bodies are adjusting, dusting and finessing the final display in the shoe department causing dust particles to float around. To me, they look like sparkles of fairy dust.

‘Are we done yet?’ Carly puffs, coming up the stairs, a mannequin on her shoulder, and an armful of beautiful vintage evening dresses.

‘Just another couple over there please,’ I say and she staggers off, grumbling about being overworked and underpaid.

‘I’m meant to be a training manager,’ I hear her saying to Sharon, ‘not in training for Olympic weightlifting. If I get butch biceps from this morning’s work I’ll be having a word with Rupert. These delicate arms were not built for lifting.’

This raises a smile from me. I love that Carly hasn’t changed. And although she might like a grumble, she has been super positive about this new collection. In fact, she was the first person I told after presenting the shoes to Rupert. If there’s someone who knows good design, it’s Carly.

She’d gasped as I had shown her the folder of David’s drawings for his collection. ‘Gimme, gimme!’ She’d fondled the paper, stroking the smooth pen lines with the tips of her manicured fingers. ‘Shades of Vintage Dior, mixed with the exquisite detail of Blahnik and the brilliant simplicity of Rupert Sanderson,’ she’d summarised, closing her eyes dramatically to reveal two perfectly drawn black Bardot-esque lines across her lids. ‘Plus, something very special of their own. They will be a hit!’ she’d finished, as if she were a fortune teller. A fashion fortune teller.

‘You like them?’ I’d laughed.

‘Are you kidding me hon?’ she’d gaped. ‘I LOVE them. And so will our customers.’

I clap my hands to get everyone’s attention. It’s been all hands on deck with this project – even Lily and Iris have come up from the stockroom to help. In fact someone joked that Evie’s Elves were back: bigger and better than ever.

‘Ok everyone, I think we’re done!’ I glance at my watch. ‘Just in time too, five minutes till the doors open!’

Everyone cheers and we all step back to appreciate the display that I envisioned, Jan Baptysta built and that we have all brought to life.

‘It looks amazing!’ Gwen and Jenny from Beauty gasp in unison.

‘
Fabulous
!’ Guy adds.

Barbara, the manager of the shoe department simply looks at everyone, smiling smugly as if to say, “this is all mine, people!”

‘Bardzo dobry!’ Justyna barks and we look at her blankly. ‘Very good!’ Justyna translates and slips her hand into Jan’s and looks at us. ‘On jest geniuszem!’ she brays proudly, as if it is he who designed the shoes. ‘My husband in a genius hmmm?!’

‘He is Justyna,’ I concur.

Jan has built the most incredible replica of Hardy’s staircase in the centre of the shoe department that is surrounded by half a dozen fir trees covered in the fairy lights, each topped with a single gold shoe. The six foot mahogany staircase ascends almost up to the ceiling of the next floor. A single pair of shoes from
Angelo’s
collection has been placed on each up-lit step so that they look as if they are descending the staircase, making their entrance in to a fabulous festive party.

On the bottom step, at the darkest end of the rainbow spectrum is a pair of beautifully classic, sparkly onyx-black pumps. A beautiful pair of amethyst shoes sits above it. On the next two steps up are an elegant blue sapphire and a bright, eye-catching topaz blue. Then is the turn of the jade green shoes. A bright ruby red stands above those, and then the palest rose quartz satin pair. Then comes an orange quartz shoe and another sparkly pair – this time a lemon yellow citrine colour.

At the top of the staircase is a replica of the vintage shoe from
Angelo’s
shop window, made from a beautiful ivory silk satin, surrounded by an intricately carved wooden rail, much like the one surrounding this floor. A filtered spotlight shines down on it and the opaque beads glimmer like diamonds.

I look down at the rest of the department and smile as I see how the mannequins look like they’re dancing at a great ball. The women are wearing beautiful evening gowns in rich Christmas bauble tones, and the men are all handsomely kitted out in vintage military uniforms. They have paused, mid-step excitedly observing the entrance of these special guests.

The furniture department has loaned us some crushed red velvet
chaise longues
and Louis IV sofas to place against the back wall. Above which is one of the old maritime clocks I picked up in Tetbury. It is fixed permanently to 11.55pm in a nod to the Cinderella story that this display was inspired by.

‘And the doors are open!’ Sharon calls as the store begins to fill with people. And then more, and even more, until I can barely see the display for all the people clamouring around it.

Hundreds of people – all except the one I want to see.

I turn around and see with great relief that David and Maria have slipped in unnoticed. Felix is standing behind them – with Gabe and Gee Gee next to him. They are grinning from ear to ear. Looking at David and his wife, I realise that this
is
a real life Cinderella story; their beautiful business has risen from the ashes and been given the chance to shine in new surroundings, with people who appreciate their work. This place is perfectly suited to their incredible designs. I swallow back a lump in my throat as I realise how much this will change their lives.

I walk over to Gabriel who is hurriedly wiping his eyes and I slip my arm through his. ‘What do you think then? Have we done
Angelo’s
shoes justice?’

‘Ahem, yep, yep,’ he blusters, tapping my hand affectionately. ‘It’s pretty good, Evie. Pretty good indeed.’ He glances at Gee Gee who flicks her head urgently. He mouths “now?” and then calls David who immediately turns and walks over to us.

‘This is incredible Evie, I truly don’t know how to thank you.’

‘Ahhm don’t!’ I blush. ‘It’s a pleasure. I’m just glad you like the display. Perfect, isn’t it?’

David’s smiles, he looks like he is trying hard to contain a secret. ‘Well yes, but – um, I do think you are missing one thing...’

I frown, looking back at the display. ‘No David, I don’t think we are.’

He steps forward suddenly and it is then that I notice he is clutching a white box with his distinctive angel wing stamp.

‘If I could just do the honours?’ he says. And he takes a pair of gold shoes out of the box. It’s
The
Shoes. The ‘Princess Kate’ ones I saw at his shop. Carly, Sharon and Guy gather around, gasping at their beauty. And they are every bit as exquisite as I knew they’d be. The way the satin silk gold wings fan over the top of the foot – the tiny swarvoski crystals that have been sewn into each fold of the wing and around the edge of the thin, elegant strap that crosses around the ankle. The virgin white sole and inside the heel, the
Angelo’s
wings label.

‘Do you remember Evie,’ he says, ‘that I told you these were for a VIP?’

I gasp and turn around and start looking for a willowy brunette with perfect hair. ‘Oh my God. Is
she
here?’