Christmas at Carrington’s (20 page)

‘Cor! Scrub what I was saying earlier … he really is the hottest man on earth, and that’s the end of it! No wonder Kel had the good sense to get Mr Carrington on screen. Ratings will skyrocket to the moon and beyond after this delicious scene. And takings too! We’ll be beating a path into work every day once new customers work out where to find him. I can see it now: hordes of women – men too – bussing in to shop at Carrington’s in the hope of catching a glimpse of sexy Mr Carrington. And Security will have to up their game, that’s for sure. No more lounging around the delivery bay flirting with the Lingerie girls.’ Eddie can’t help himself; he’s leaning forward and practically salivating.

‘OK. I get the message,’ I say sulkily, wishing he wouldn’t keep on. I get it. I’m doomed! Sentenced to singledom for the rest of my life as, right now, there’s no way another man will ever come close to Tom. Eddie is right – Tom is pure perfection. ‘Zara is very lucky,’ I manage, magnanimously, stuffing the last of the muffin into my mouth.

‘I’ll say,’ Eddie starts, and then quickly stops when we see the rest of the shot. As the camera pans around, Valentina emerges, her perfect long legs sashaying across the deck before lowering her equally perfect body down into the bubbles. He wet hair splays back as she tilts her face up towards the moonlit sky while adjusting the halterneck of her bikini. ‘Sweet Jesus, is she getting naked?’ Eddie shouts.

‘Stop it!’ I snap, biting back tears.

‘Only joking dollface.’

‘Please, Eddie, will you just switch it off?’ I say, scanning the coffee table for the remote control. Eddie finds it hidden under a cushion and duly obliges.

‘Sorry sweetie. But I thought you were over him, you know, with you seeing the singer and getting involved in all the exciting magazine and PR stuff you’re doing now. Lots of distraction.’

‘Yes, you’re right, I should be over him, but … ’

‘Oh, come here.’ Eddie jumps off the sofa and flings his arms around my neck, almost squeezing me to death in an enormous bear hug. ‘Listen.’ He pulls back to look at me.

‘What it is?’ I say, on seeing the mischievous look in his eye.

‘
Weell
, like I said before, something doesn’t add up … Don’t you think it’s weird that Zara isn’t with him?’

‘I guess so. But this could have been filmed ages ago. I can’t really keep up with it all any more … I didn’t even know Tom was in Lapland. And I thought he was supposed to be visiting all the big fashion houses sourcing new stock for Carrington’s to sell, not necking steaming big jugs of hot berry juice or whatever the voiceover guy said it was,’ I say in a quiet voice.

‘Hmm, well, I suppose Lapland is more Christmassy, and I know KCTV had to cancel Milan at the last minute – Prada got sniffy about opening their doors to TV cameras and there wasn’t time to organise anything with the other Italian design houses. But look on the bright side.’

‘Bright side?’ I ask, failing to see how the scene in front of me could possibly be classed as anything remotely positive as far as my love life is concerned.

‘That’s right. If you were Zara, would you be happy if your fiancé-to-be was cavorting in a hot tub with a goddess wearing just a grin – for all we know she could have discarded the bikini bottoms and be naked right now under that bubbly water. Maybe Tom’s moved on already.’

I let the thought linger for a moment, and in spite of how seriously fed up and jealous I feel right now, I also can’t help feeling a teeny bit secretly pleased. Ha! Of course Tom has the right to his happy-ever-after too, just like Dad and Nancy, but if he doesn’t want it with me, then I’d sooner he have it with Valentina. At least she’s an unknown entity who lives in Brazil – perhaps he’ll move there and live happily ever after. Out of sight. Unlike Zara with her horrible attitude and collection of pilfered handbags that she tosses on the floor without a second thought, while dishing out dirty looks in my direction. I imagine she’ll be all over Tom, rubbing my nose in it at every opportunity.

Two shopping weeks until Christmas

I’m at work, stuffing acid-free tissue paper into a rainbow crystal clutch when Annie sidles up to me with a tentative look on her face.

‘Have you heard?’

‘Heard what?’ I ask, busying myself by placing the clutch in a prominent position near the edge of the display shelf, and right under a spotlight to accentuate the sparkle from the crystals.

‘About the engagement?’ she swivels her eyes nervously.

‘Oh that. Yes, I heard a while ago.’ I shake my hair back in what I hope is a nonchalant way.

‘Oh good,’ she says, before quickly adding, ‘sorry, I don’t mean good as in
good
good, I mean … oh God, it’s all coming out wrong. I meant, that, well, it’s good that you know already. Only Zara has been going on about it to anyone who will listen and I didn’t want you to hear via shop-floor gossip. Emma in Stationery got cornered in the lift the other day and said that Zara wouldn’t shut up about “her news” and that as soon as she gets the ring she’ll let everyone see it. Nobody likes her, you know.’ Annie flings a hand on her hip and twiddles her nose stud.

‘Really?’

‘Yep. And apparently she’s been telling people that I’m a “dirty pikey”.’

‘Oh no, I’m so sorry Annie.’

‘Oh don’t be, I can handle myself.’ She puffs her ample cleavage out. ‘But she was also overheard saying that it was a good job Denise in Home Electricals wasn’t in the show as she would have scared all the viewers away.’

‘Nooo. Poor Denise. I hope it hasn’t filtered back to her.’

‘Not yet. But what a mean thing to say – Denise can’t help having that burn scar down the side of her neck.’ Annie looks over her shoulder before leaning in to me with a deadly serious look on her face. ‘I could clump her one, if you like. Would wipe that fake smile off her mush.’

‘Err, no. That won’t be necessary,’ I quickly say, dreading to think what Tom would think if it ever came out that I was behind his fiancée getting slapped. I’d be deemed a thug as well as a stalker. I spot a customer trying on a D&G top handle bag and, feeling grateful for the distraction, I apologise to Annie and make my way over.

‘Oh good choice, we have it in cherry red too.’ I smile at the forty-something woman while admiring her gorgeous swingy poncho as she checks out the bag in the long mirror.

‘How much is it please?’ she asks, handing me the bag. I check the inside pocket and show her the tag. She ponders for a moment before saying,

‘I’ll take it.’

‘Lovely. Is it a gift?’ I ask, impressed with her quick decision-making skills. Customers usually procrastinate for a little longer over bags in the nine-hundred-pound-plus bracket, unless they’re Princess Ameerah of course.

‘Yes,’ she says, fingering the matching purse.

‘I’ll gift-wrap it for you in that case.’

‘Oh no need. It’s for me – a Christmas present to myself. And I’ll have this to go with it too.’ She hands me the purse.

‘Great. Are you sure you wouldn’t like them gift-wrapped?’ I ask, and she hesitates. ‘Might as well, there’s no extra charge and if you’re treating yourself … ’ I say, hoping to persuade her. ‘All part of the shopping experience,’ I beam.

‘Oh go on then. I can put them under my tree and think of my ex-husband as I open them on Christmas Day. After all, he’s paying … even if he doesn’t know it.’ She flashes me a wry smile.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say diplomatically.

‘Don’t be. I caught him with someone. In fact, you might know her, she’s something to do with this show your shop is involved in,’ she says, in a very breezy voice, while plucking a credit card from her purse.

‘
Kelly Cooper Come Instore?
’ I confirm, wondering who it could be as I head over to my till.

‘Yes, that’s the one. My husband is an actor and well … ’ She pauses to slap the card on the counter. ‘It was only a matter of time. Things have been rocky for a while between us, and Lawrence has always been such an outrageous flirt.’ Oh God. She must be Declan’s mum, the cute little boy with the Irish guy who bought the Chloé bag that Zara ruined. ‘In fact I was thinking of leaving him in any case, but nobody wants to be upstaged by a gorgeous creature less than half their age now, do they?’

‘Indeed,’ I say, busying myself with the gift-wrapping. I’m used to customers offloading, and have learnt over the years to just listen without voicing an opinion, rather like hairdressers do. I guess it’s easier to talk to a stranger sometimes.

‘And to think, he seduced her with my son in tow.’ Silence follows as I run the transaction through the till. ‘He’s three years old, for Christ’s sake.’ I turn the card reader towards her and she punches in the PIN. ‘My apologies, I’ve embarrassed you.’ I notice her trembling hands as she stows the credit card back in her purse.

‘No, not all. I’m sorry,’ I say discreetly, making sure I keep my voice low. I really feel for her, being thrown over for someone else is totally crap. I should know. Maybe it’s better to stay single after all; I’m not sure I could bear it if my actual husband was unfaithful. I think of Mum. I’m so glad she never knew about Dad’s affair. Although, I have been wondering recently if perhaps she did know, and just chose not to acknowledge it. I’ve been racking my brains, going over and over things. I distinctly remember sitting on the hall stairs listening to Mum crying on the phone in the lounge to her friend one time. Maeve, in Australia, and Mum was saying something about “she can give him what I can’t”. I swallow hard, Mum must have assumed they were sleeping together, just like Bob had. How could Dad do it? And in an instance, my feelings about him and Nancy waver. I grab two carrier bags from under the counter and quickly push the thoughts from my head. I focus on tying ribbon around the handles instead. I can’t think about it all now.

‘Oh don’t be. I’m having a fabulous time, next stop the salon upstairs. I’m having the works and then I’m off to Dubai to meet up with an old girlfriend who has some gorgeously eligible bachelor friends lined up for me to meet. I just hope Lawrence’s new lover is good with kids as my three darling boys are a handful.’

‘Of course. You’ve just had a baby. Congratulations.’ The minute the words come out of my mouth I regret them. She instinctively folds her arms over her perfectly flat stomach.

‘I beg your pardon?’ she mutters, blinking furiously.

‘Err, I’m so sorry. I thought, um … Lawrence mentioned you’d had a new baby, when he came first came into the store. It was a rehearsal scene for the show. He bought a handbag … ’ I will my cheeks to stop burning.
Diplomacy. At all times.

‘Oh did he? Well that’s nice of him to inform me. No. No babies. Just three adorable but extremely boisterous sons aged ten, seven and three years old. Lawrence is having them on alternate weekends and a whole month in the summer. I’ll be making sure of that. Sooo, we’ll see how long
Zara
hangs around!’ she beams, before taking the gift-wrapped bags and breezing over to the escalator.

Oh my God!

My jaw drops.

I close my mouth and duck into the little cupboard behind my counter to pull out my mobile and quickly tap out a text to Sam.

Sam replies straight away.

I smile, pleased that Sam seems happier. More like her old self. I know she’s been quiet, but she has good days too when she says she feels really optimistic, especially after her gynaecologist said that there’s no reason why she can’t try to conceive again right away, if that’s what she wants. She says that’s her focus now. Positive action. But then a seemingly random event can set her off. The last time it happened was during a holiday advert about cruises and cherishing memories. She has no idea why it made her cry, other than when she first knew she was pregnant, she had started imagining a whole lifetime, not just for her, but for the baby too, and now it won’t happen. Those memories won’t be made. I struggle to know what to say to comfort her sometimes, so I figured I should tell her this rather than say the wrong thing. She’s my best friend and I want to help her as much as I can. I just wish I could snatch the sorrow away for her. But she said the best thing I can do is not be afraid to ask how she’s feeling because she’s not going to crumble in front of me. Plus, I should carry on being how I’ve always been with her, not tiptoe around making her feel fragile. She said the hardest part to deal with is when people avoid her – people who used to stop and chat, but now cross the road or hover in the doorway of the café until someone else is at the counter to serve them. If they only asked how she was, then she could thank them and say that some days are good, some not so, before talking about something else.

I ask Annie to cover while I pop up to the café.

‘Sure, no problem. And give Sam my love. Tell her I’ll be up later on my tea break and if she wants to chat … well, it happened to me last year.’

‘Oh Annie, I’m sorry. I never knew.’ I give her hand a quick squeeze.

‘And my cousin the year before and my aunty Sadie has had three miscarriages. It’s more common than we think, only nobody really talks about it. I don’t understand why … maybe we should, and then when it happens we might not feel so alone.’

I give her a hug before pulling back to look her in the eye.

‘You’re a wise woman, Annie O’Leary.’

^‘
So, rewind a bit and start from the beginning.’ I’m with Sam, and we’re in the best booth, tucked away in the far corner of the café. In the time it took me to get up here, she’s made us each a mug of delicious crème brûlée latte, a round of turkey feast sandwiches and sliced up an extra gooey-looking chocolate Yule log. Sam tucks into her second sandwich. I wipe my fingers on a napkin and take another sip of the latte, the swirly caramel and whipped cream topping coating my top lip. ‘I need to understand what’s going on here,’ she says.

‘Are you sure? It seems trivial now somehow, after everything that’s happened,’ I say, worried now that I shouldn’t have been so impulsive. ‘How are you?’

‘Stop it. Please.’ She smiles. ‘I’m fine. Women have miscarriages every day, I’m not ashamed or delicate. Yes, there’ll always be a little part of my heart that’s broken, but I’m still me. I’m strong. And I still want to hear all the gossip. Now tell me … ’ She nods for me to continue.

‘OK. Well, like I said, Lawrence’s wife caught him with
Zara
,’ I whisper.

‘Nooo … but caught them doing what exactly?’ Sam makes big eyes.

‘Well, she didn’t go into specific details.’

‘Hmm, so it could be nothing at all. A clinch. A hug. Even a friendly kiss on the cheek for all we know. To be honest Georgie, I just don’t get it, it doesn’t make sense. Not when Zara was so excited about the engagement, I heard her with my own ears, telling Princess Ameerah how much Tom loves her and how he practically begged her to marry him.’ I breathe in sharply. ‘Sorry hun.’

‘I don’t think it’s nothing at all because Lawrence’s wife said she was leaving him and going to Dubai, and she even talked about sharing custody of their children,’ I say, my mind working overtime.

‘Oh dear, that does sound pretty serious. So what are you going to do?’ Sam raises her eyebrows enquiringly and takes another bite of her sandwich.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, are you going to confront her?’ she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she talks and chews.

‘I can’t do that. It’s not really my business.’ I shake my head.

‘Of course it is. Ask her!’

‘Sam, I can’t, really. Besides, it’ll just look like sour grapes. And what if Kelly finds out? Zara is her daughter after all. And remember, Kelly and Tom’s mother are friends, so it’s bound to get back to him. Or, worse still, it turns out to be untrue, or what if it is true and Tom already knows and has forgiven her or something – he could end up hating me for meddling and ruining his “happy-ever-after”. Just because Lawrence and his wife are over – I mean, she did say that their relationship had been rocky for a while – it doesn’t necessarily mean that Tom and Zara are over,’ I say, secretly wishing more than anything that they were. ‘And what about Valentina? Where does she fit into all of this?’

‘No idea. And you may not want to know what’s going on, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. It’s the least I can do after playing Cupid and getting you two together in the first place. I can’t believe I got him so wrong.’ Sam finishes chewing and folds her arms assertively.

‘Sooo, what do you have in mind?’ I venture, slowly.

‘Right. This is the bottom line. Do you still want him?’

‘You know I do.’ I will my cheeks to stop flushing as, no matter what, it’s not my style to go after an attached guy, even if he is my one … or so I had thought.

‘Well, that settles it then. I’ve had enough of this, and one thing I’ve learnt recently is that you have to grab every chance of happiness with both hands, no matter how fleetingly it comes your way … ’ She pauses momentarily. ‘I can’t promise that he’ll come back to you, but I’m not sitting back and letting you go through this for a second longer. You deserve a proper explanation. I’ll do it at the wrap party.’

‘Do what?’ I ask nervously, Sam has come up with some truly hare-brained schemes over the years, so I dread to think what she has planned. ‘Well, if you don’t want to have it out with Zara, then I’ll ask Tom!’

‘Oh Sam, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’ll think I’m some kind of silly schoolgirl, getting my best friend to confront him. And I’ll look like a bunny-boiler for sure.’ Panic rises in me.

‘No you won’t. Besides, that’s not all he’s been up to.’ Sam places her mug down and gives me a serious look.

‘Go on,’ I say tentatively, thinking of Zara and Valentina and wondering just how many more women there are. Sam turns to look me in the eye. ‘What is it? You’re scaring me.’ I brace myself.

‘You’ll never guess what Mandy told me.’ Sam makes big eyes.

‘No?’ I bite my bottom lip. I’m absolutely desperate to know. I can hear my own blood pumping in my ears as I rack my brains trying to fathom what it could possibly be.

‘Now, this is strictly confidential.’ Sam leans in really close to me. ‘Mandy could lose her job at the town hall.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll take it to the grave,’ I say quickly, tilting my head towards her. She covertly lifts my big hair to talk directly into my ear.

‘Someone wants to buy the Carrington’s building and turn it into a hotel!’ she whispers, and the pounding sound is so loud now, my heart feels as though it’s going to burst right out of my chest.

Silence follows.

Sam leans back. I gulp. No. This can’t be happening. But why? I don’t understand. Panic engulfs me. Everything is changing. Everything I thought I had is disappearing, one by one, slipping through my fingers like sand in a timer, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it. And why would Tom do this? Why would he let it happen?

‘But why, how?’ I eventually manage. My hand is shaking as I place my mug back on the table.

‘That’s all Mandy knows.’ Sam helps herself to a slice of Yule log. ‘Apparently a request has been received via a solicitor in London. Something about a mystery person enquiring about a change of use from shop to hotel with underground parking.’

‘I knew it!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Kelly! I knew it right from the start that she wasn’t to be trusted. I heard her, remember? Talking about a hotel with underground parking. I thought she was lining up her next TV series.’

‘Yes! I remember,’ Sam says.

‘But it doesn’t make sense. Why would she invest so much money in the store if she plans on closing it down and making it into a hotel?’ I ask, my mind racing, desperate for it to be a mistake. For Mandy to have got it horribly wrong.

‘Exactly! Now can you see why somebody has to confront Tom? He’s the boss, after all. The major shareholder. And this affects all of us.’

‘True,’ I say, trying to think straight.

‘Enough is enough. He can’t carry on like this. First he dumps you, and now he wants to dump Carrington’s. And I for one have worked too hard to sit back and lose my lovely café, on top of everything else I’ve lost.’ Her voice falters momentarily. I squeeze her hand.

‘But he loves this store. It’s his family’s business going back generations. The original Mr Carrington was his great grandfather. Why would he even want to sell Carrington’s? We have to find out more. Can’t you ask Mandy for a name?’ I ask, panic rising in my voice.

‘I’ve already tried but she wasn’t budging – data protection and all that.’ Sam shakes her head.

‘Well, there’s got to be something we can do. Some way of getting more information before we confront Tom,’ I plead.

‘But let’s look at the facts. A hotel could also benefit from a pet spa; guests could even board their pooches next door and have them walked, too, like a kind of dog hotel. You know there are restaurants and hotels in London that do it – exercise your dog while you dine,’ she says, knowingly. ‘And why not have an ice rink on the roof?’

‘Ahh, but you wouldn’t refurbish a whole personal shopping suite just to rip it out again when you turn it into a junior stateroom or whatever. And you know she’s even installed a Costa Express machine in there,’ I say, still hoping somehow that Mandy really has got it all wrong.

‘Well, some hotels have coffee machines too,’ Sam sniffs disapprovingly.

I nod, letting it all sink in as I desperately try to push the sickening feeling aside. What if Tom really is selling? He could be. He told me himself he was worried about turning the store around, being able to pull it off. And all those doubters in the business world he had to contend with, watching and whispering about his abilities – maybe he’s seen an opportunity, a way out, and decided to sell to Kelly and Zara, and most likely Princess Ameerah is on it too. She’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps she’s the one putting up the money so Kelly and Zara can film the transition from shop to hotel. And it’s not as if doing the show has upped our game that much. Takings are only slightly higher than would be expected anyway for this time of year. I saw the sales chart on the wall of the staff canteen. And not forgetting his horrible text message, is this what he meant about me losing my job too? Because if Carrington’s were to become a hotel, then where would that leave me and the rest of the staff – Eddie, Annie, Mrs Grace, Melissa, Lauren, Doris and Suzanne? We all love working here. It doesn’t bear thinking about. And in an instance, the wrap party I’ve been dreading for so long, now suddenly seems so much more appealing – if nothing else, I’ll get to see Tom. To talk to him. To confront him, once and for all. To find out exactly what is going on. Sam is right, we can’t just sit back and let him sell Carrington’s out from under us … but there’s something else I must do first.