Miracle on Regent Street (23 page)

‘There’s at least another three or four loads,’ I say, and I look at the stairs beseechingly. ‘We could do it in two runs if we both do it?’ I add hopefully.

‘Oh, no, hon.’ Carly shakes her head. ‘I can’t possibly do that. I’m in the creative moment. I need to imagine it all and work out where everything is going to go.
It’s a long, difficult process; you wouldn’t understand.’ She smiles kindly at me. ‘You’ll be all right, though, won’t you?’

I nod wearily and head back down the three flights of stairs. It’s at times like this that I wish Hardy’s was more modern and had a bloody lift.

And that I knew how to say no.

I’m climbing the stairs to the first floor for the last time with the last massive armload of clothes. I can barely see where I’m going but instinct and an
intricate knowledge of the footprint of the entire store appears to be leading me. Suddenly I hear a distinctive voice rising over the throng and I try to peer round the precariously balanced
bundle that I’m clinging to. I look down.

There’s a guy in the beauty department talking to Jenny. I can just see the top of his head. Maybe he’s come into buy a perfume for his wife or girlfriend, drawn into the store by my
beautiful bottle display? Then I hear his voice again and I know for certain it’s not just some guy. It’s Joel.

‘What’s he doing here?’ I whisper under my breath, and press myself against the banisters in case he looks up and sees me. I hide my face behind the clothes and do my best to
listen in to their conversation. I’m learning that being invisible can come in handy sometimes.

‘Just come in to mumble mumble check out mumble mumble unit area mumble nice displays mumble who did them mumble . . .’

I want to shout, ‘Speak up, Joel!’ but realize that would be foolhardy. Mostly because if he looks up he’ll see that I am wearing the ugliest jumper you have ever seen in your
life. The wool has caused an unattractive rash to work its way around my neck and up to my jaw. And I’m wearing my horrid rimmed glasses because I couldn’t face putting in contact
lenses when I got up at crazy o’clock this morning. My hair is unwashed and pulled back in a ponytail, and I have on my Worst Black Work Trousers. The ones that are tight in all the wrong
places. I look like a Cornish fisherman who’s been out trawling for fish all night. I can’t let him see me like this. More importantly, I can’t let me see him with Carly. I know I
was going to come clean to him but I need to keep
some
dignity whilst doing it. Oh, why didn’t I put on that cute sixties dogtooth miniskirt and black polo neck I pulled out this
morning? Damn my natural comfort-over-style reflex. I need to try harder.

I dash up the stairs and am panting by the time I get back into Designers. Carly doesn’t appear to have moved or made any sort of headway since I left. The department is a mess, the
current stock is on the floor and the rails are empty. Elaine is prowling round with a face like thunder.

I put down the clothes and walk towards Carly but Elaine gets to me first. ‘She doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing,’ she hisses. ‘She won’t listen to me.
She’s going to put all this old stock in the stockroom and hang all her new stuff up. Even though the old dear who’ll be choosing her selection of crushed velvet and tartan taffeta
evening dresses for her Hogmanay celebration is due in today . . . what’s she called?”

‘Lady Fontescue,’ I say, glancing behind me nervously to see if Joel is going to appear at the top of the stairs at any moment.

‘And what about that mad woman who is obsessed with printed kaftans?’ presses Elaine.

‘Babs Buckley,’ I reply automatically. It is no consolation to me right now that I can still win at my ‘Match the Customer to the Random Item of Stock’ game. I have to
get out of here.

‘That’s her. Well, she’s not going to like this either.’ Elaine folds her arms and glares at me as if it’s my problem. ‘I can’t see her swapping her
kaftans for
this
!’ She grabs a small, shimmering sheath of a dress at the top of my pile and I can’t help but agree. These are not garments for Hardy’s current clientele.
Carly risks alienating the only customers we have. I hope she knows what she’s doing. But looking at her now, her face furrowed into a frown of concentration, tongue sticking out slightly, I
have a feeling she doesn’t.

‘Elaine, hon,’ Carly calls, ‘can you help, please? There’s a lot to be done here.’

Elaine growls under her breath and I hastily intervene before she launches at Carly.

‘Carly,’ I say as I jump in between them, ‘the new stock is all up here now. I’m going to get back to the stockroom, if that’s OK? I’ve got stuff to get on
wi—’

Carly widens her eyes at me in surprise. ‘But you can’t leave now. Not with all this work still to do! Elaine and I need you, don’t we?’

‘But they need me more, Carly.’ I point at the department below and walk towards the grand staircase before Carly has a chance to reply. I’m not usually this assertive but I
can’t risk Joel coming up and seeing me. Not dressed like this.

I peer over the banisters to see if I can spot him. A crowd of people has clustered around the various different counters. Gwen and Jenny are flitting busily between people like butterflies in
their crisp uniforms, thrusting lipsticks and soaps and moisturizers into various hands. Joel is no longer anywhere to be seen, which is a good sign. If I can just get down the rest of the stairs
and into the sanctuary of the stockroom I’ll be all right.

I slam the stockroom door behind me, panting from my sprint down the stairs. There are now more than a dozen orders printed on the machine and I dash over, grab the long roll
of tickets and set to work. I don’t have time to breathe, let alone think.

Nearly two hours go by and I am starving and exhausted by the time 3 p.m. rolls round. But I can’t leave for the day as I normally would. In fact, I have to phone Delilah to tell her I
won’t be able to pick the kids up from nursery today. And still the orders keep coming through. It is unprecedented for a Monday – no, make that
any
day – and I can’t
help but feel a wave of pleasure that my work has made a difference. Even if no one knows it but me.

Gwen dashes in at one point, her face bright and flushed with exertion, rather than blusher. She garbles something about lavender soaps selling out and when I point her down the right aisle she
rushes out with a whole box without saying a word. I’m going to have to order some more, which is unheard of. I’m not even sure if they’re made any more; I’ve been selling
Iris’s soaps from the same order for the past two years.

Sharon also comes in, her face crisscrossed with a mix of anxiety and hope. She grabs a box full of lipsticks and runs out. Everyone is too busy to speak today. Even Carly hasn’t been down
for her usual afternoon cup of tea and chinwag.

By five o’clock I am about to faint. When the stockroom door opens again I’m ready to pounce on whoever it might be to get them to cover for me whilst I go and grab a sandwich.
It’s Carly.

‘Guess who I’ve just seen,’ she squeals as she sashays into the room, and I know from the expression on her face that it can be only one person. ‘Cute Eye Contact
Guy!’ she exclaims, confirming my fears.

Oh God. Joel. He’s still here. She’s met him. Well, that’s it then. It’s time to own up.

‘God, he’s gorgeous,’ she breathes. ‘Don’t you think?’ I gasp as she swings open the stockroom door and I see Joel standing just feet away from us, hovering
around the beauty department, which is still full of customers. I jump behind Carly but I can just see his profile. He takes out an iPad and appears to be making notes. He looks up again, but
luckily it’s in the opposite direction. I jump over to the door and slam it shut.

‘Hey, why did you do that?’ she exclaims. ‘You’ve spoiled my view! And
what
a view!’

I shrug and she turns back to open the door a crack and peer out. This is the moment that I should come clean. If Joel is working for Rupert he’s clearly going to keep coming into
Hardy’s so he’s bound to bump into the real Carly at some point, and I don’t have the energy to keep up this stupid pretence any longer.

I take a deep breath. ‘The thing is, Carly—’ I begin.

‘He totally checked me out on the way in here, you know,’ she says, talking over me. ‘I don’t understand why he doesn’t just come on over and ask me out. He clearly
wants to. Why does he keep coming back to this shithole otherwise?’

I bristle at her words. Doesn’t she have any sense of loyalty? I let it pass, though, as I’m determined to say what I need to say.

‘Well,’ I try again, lowering my eyes and taking a deep breath, ‘the truth is . . . he’s actually here to see me.’

‘What!’ She stares at me, her expression one of true disbelief, and the silence fills the room. Then she breaks into a broad smile and then a high-pitched laugh. ‘Oh, heee
heeee, oh, you are hilarious, hon,
really
.’ She puts her hands on my shoulder. ‘That was a good one. You really had me going there.’

Her words hit me in the chest like darts. Each one hurts more than the last because I know Carly doesn’t mean it cruelly. It’s just the thought of me and Joel is too laughable to be
true. ‘Now, do you fancy taking a break? You can be my wingwoman whilst I go and speak to the hottie out there. He’s obviously just shy . . .’

I look away as another set of orders come through on the printer. Suddenly, I feel nauseous. The last thing I want to do now is eat. If she wants Joel she can go and get him. I’m not
stupid enough to compete with her.

I busy myself with another order as I reply, not wanting to give her the benefit of my attention. ‘No,’ I say tightly. The word feels strange on my lips, alien almost. ‘You go.
I’m far too busy here.’ I turn round to gauge her reaction, but the door is already swinging shut behind her.

I
stay in the stockroom for another hour, even though it is long past my clocking-off time. All normal rules that apply to my life seem to be going
out of the window these days. I know I wanted things to change, but now everything is so different I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing any more. I don’t feel like me and I
don’t know how to be myself with anyone.

Part of me feels relieved that Joel is soon going to know the truth. Carly might have already introduced herself to him. And he’ll realize that
of course
she’s the personal
shopper he’s been told so much about. He’ll only need to look at her to see that. And me? He’ll just see me as a desperate girl willing to do anything for a bit of romance and
excitement in her life. And he’ll be right.

I pack up my rucksack slowly. Once I’m certain that Joel and Carly are long gone I head out of the stockroom, flicking off the lights behind me.

The beauty department is still heaving as I walk towards the front doors, and no one gives me a second glance.

I stumble out of the store and onto the pavement, shivering as I wrap my big coat around my body. I take a step forward and turn and glance up at Hardy’s clock. It is nearly 6.30 p.m. and
pitch-black. A disgruntled passer-by swears and shunts me on the shoulder as he walks past me, as if I have inconvenienced him hugely simply by standing there. Then someone else coming in the
opposite direction does the same. I mutter an apology and start walking, pulling my hood up, digging my hands deep into my pockets and nestling my chin into my coat. I’ll come back for my
bike after I’ve made a little detour.

Ahead of me I see a familiar figure rushing down the street. It looks just like Sam. I quicken my pace to catch up with him but then he stops, embraces someone, and starts walking slowly next to
her. I’m not sure who it is, they’re not holding hands or anything, but their heads are close together, it’s like they’re discussing something important. And he looks
dressed up. Not in his usual checked shirts or hooded top, but in smart dark jeans and a tailored coat. He’s not even wearing his cute beanie. They disappear around a corner and I shrug to
myself, sad not to have been able to chat to him. I could’ve done with a friendly ear. I make a note to ask him who the girl was. He never mentioned that he’s seeing anyone. Not that
it’s any of my business, but he usually fills me in on what’s new in his life. Although weirdly, he doesn’t talk about girlfriends much. I’ve always presumed he was
single.