Miracle on Regent Street (35 page)

BOOK: Miracle on Regent Street
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I look up and see Sam grinning shyly, his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets. He unwraps his scarf, takes off his beanie hat and rubs his hand over his head. I am surprised to find myself
wondering how it would feel to do that myself. His closely cropped hair looks almost like suede as he touches it: soft yet rough.

I swallow as he shrugs off his coat and throws it round the chair in one swift movement. There is a moment of awkward silence as we appraise each other.

‘You look gorgeous,’ Sam says softly.

I smile at his compliment and quickly allow my eyes to take in his appearance. He’s wearing a soft oatmeal-coloured V-neck jumper, which compliments his syrupy-coloured hair as well as his
caramel eyes. There’s a crisp white T-shirt just peeking through underneath the jumper, and he’s wearing smart, pressed black trousers. I’m surprised how much effort he’s
made for such an informal night out. I mean, anyone would think he was as desperate for a night out as the rest of us. But he and Ella probably go out all the time. Dinner, the theatre, nice bars,
all the things couples do.

‘You scrub up pretty well yourself,’ I smile and then look away, embarrassed suddenly.

‘Well, here we are,’ he says, clutching the back of the chair. I notice that his knuckles have gone white.

I nod, suddenly lost for any strand of conversation, which is weird. I mean, this is Sam. My mate Sam. ‘Yep, here we are,’ I reply.

Sam opens his mouth to speak again and then closes it as three drinks arrive on the table in front of us, delivered by Felix.

‘Here we are!’ says Felix heartily as he puts down two pints and my glass of wine. Sam looks at him, then at me, then to his left as Lily slips into the seat next to him.

‘Not bad,’ she says as she takes a sip of her Martini. ‘Not bad at all. By the next one I think he’ll get it just right.’

Sam looks at Lily, then at Felix, then back at me and raises his eyebrows questioningly.

‘Lily, Felix, this is Sam,’ I say, making the introductions. ‘He does the deliveries for Hardy’s so you probably won’t have met him before.’

Felix hands Sam his pint as Lily raises her glass, gives Sam a sideways glance and then winks at me approvingly.

‘I took the liberty of getting you a pint of lager while I was at the bar,’ Felix says. ‘I saw you talking to Evie here and figured you were with us.’

‘With us?’ Sam questions robotically as he accepts the drink and sinks back in the banquette.

‘Lily and Felix are good friends of mine who work at Hardy’s,’ I explain to Sam. ‘Felix is our security man, and Lily runs the tearoom. When you suggested having a
get-together to celebrate the promotion-I-never-got, of course I wanted to invite them. Ooh, and here are the others!’

I stand up and wave as I spot Jan Baptysta and Justyna towering over the crowds. I hear Velna before I see her. And then when I see her I wonder how I could have possibly missed her. She is
wearing a multicoloured roll-neck jumper with a bright pink denim skirt, cream tights and fluffy boots. She has her hair in plaits, and it appears to be dyed green.

‘Hi, guys!’ I say warmly as they line up in front of the table. ‘Everyone, meet Jan, Justyna and Velna! They’re Hardy’s brilliant cleaners. ‘You guys must
know Felix, right? And this is Sam and Lily.’

‘Yesk!’ Jan nods as he takes Felix’s hand and pumps it enthusiastically so that Felix’s pint slops over the top of his glass. Justyna slaps Felix on the back and a little
more spills out and Velna gives him a warm hug, her elbow knocking his glass again. Then they all wave at Sam and Lily.

Felix laughs and puts his glass down. ‘Is that everyone?’ he says.

I look around and nod, thinking of Carly, who could have been here too if she’d just given us a chance.

‘Well,’ Felix glances at his now half-empty pint. ‘It looks like I could do with going to the bar again to get some more drinks. Ladies and gentleman, place your orders,
please!’

Everyone starts grabbing chairs and chattering noisily as Felix heads off with his list of drinks. I can see from the expressions on everyone’s faces that they’re thrilled to be out
for the evening, mixing with colleagues they have worked with for years, but not ever had the opportunity to get to know properly. Lily is listening intently whilst Velna explains just how home
hair-dye works, whilst Jan interrupts to ask Lily what it is she’s drinking.

‘A Martini, of course, darling,’ she replies. ‘It’s the only drink worth drinking if you like vodka, which I presume you do?’ Jan nods and begins explaining the
myriad differences between Polish and Russian vodka. A minute later Lily has climbed delicately onto her chair with Jan’s help, snapped her fingers and got the barman’s attention. She
makes some hand gestures and two minutes later the same barman delivers a Vodka Martini to her, complete with a little bow. I laugh with disbelief as she slides it across the table to Jan.

‘How did you do that?’ I ask. ‘It usually takes an hour to get served in here!’

‘Years of practice, darling,’ Lily drawls as everyone leans in to listen to her. ‘Back in my day a bartender had your drink ready for you before you even came in, and if they
didn’t, all it would take was one flick of my hand and two would arrive to compensate for my wait.’ She waves her hands. ‘Of course, I always stuck to Dorothy Parker’s rules
and only drank the two.’ We all look perplexed and Lily gazes around in mock horror at us. ‘Have you never heard her famous saying?’ We shake our heads and she tuts and begins to
recite: ‘“I like to have Martini, two at the very most. After three I’m under the table, after four I’m under the host.”’

Everyone laughs and Lily uses this as a cue to start telling one of her stories from the Good Old Days, with extra details thrown in by her new sidekick, Felix, who has returned from the bar.
They appear to be in their element telling everyone about life working at the Hardy’s of old.

‘People used to flock there,’ Felix says nostalgically to his captive audience. ‘They’d chat and browse and have lunch or tea; it was a whole day’s outing for
them.’ Lily nods in agreement.

I’ve heard this potted history several times before from Felix but am enjoying it as much as everyone else. I remember the first time Felix filled me in on Hardy’s background. It was
the January after I started, a particularly quiet month, and he was telling me how back in the sixties and seventies, the Hardy’s sale used to draw a crowd as big as Harrods’, and
you’d see streams of people leaving the store clutching handfuls of Hardy’s distinctive cream and gold carrier bags. Unable to believe it, I asked him what had gone wrong.

‘People have lost sight of what Hardy’s stands for,’ he replied sadly. ‘I mean, Walter Hardy, senior, opened the store with the belief that he could change the way that
people shopped. He wanted Hardy’s to be an extension of customers’ own homes. It would put public service over profit and there’d be no hard-selling or store snobbery.’ He
told me that under Walter’s watchful eye it became London’s most popular department store. So cherished was it by customers that it became a symbol of hope through two World Wars, as it
somehow miraculously survived the bombing that changed the city’s panorama so dramatically. As their own homes were destroyed, so Londoners flocked to Hardy’s, the warm, welcoming store
whose doors were always open to them.

Lily has now been handed the reins of the story by Felix, who is sipping his pint with satisfaction as she talks. ‘In 1945, Walter senior retired and his son, Walter junior, took over the
running of the store, promising to carry on his father’s legacy. And he did for over forty years. But when he passed away his son, Sebastian, became the new owner, but he didn’t share
his father and grandfather’s vision. Under his tenure it became a wealth- and status-obsessed store aimed at serving an élite customer, namely his Sloaney friends.’ Felix pipes
up that it’s the reason he originally left Hardy’s. He’d worked there for over thirty years but ‘couldn’t work for someone who didn’t have the best interests of
the store at heart.’

Lily pats him on the hand and continues. ‘Sebastian always blamed the store’s location for its drop in profits under his ownership but it was its loss of values that was the problem,
not its position.’

‘Surely the position can’t help, though,’ I pipe up. ‘I mean, Hardy’s may be in W1 but the street it’s situated on is full of other forgotten folk, like the
independent umbrella shop to the left, and the traditional cobbler’s on the right, neither of whom seem to do a remarkable trade either.’ I often wonder how they manage to stay afloat,
with the soaring rental prices in this area. It’s such a shame, as the pretty, tree-lined street has so much potential with its quaint shops with brightly coloured awnings, and little
specialist cafés and delicatessens.

Felix just sniffs and says, ‘We did all right for eighty years, until Sebastian came along.’

I glance across the table at Sam: he is unusually quiet and staring glumly into the distance. ‘Are you OK?’ I ask quietly as Lily and Felix continue to entertain the rest of the
group with their stories. I stretch my hand across the table to touch Sam’s. It is warm; he pulls it away slightly.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, then pauses and looks at me. ‘I just thought . . .’ He trails off and then looks down. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says to the
floor.

‘No, Sam, what’s wrong? Tell me.’ I’m worried suddenly that I’ve done something wrong. Does Sam not like the venue? Would he have preferred the swanky bars that
Carly frequents? Was he expecting more people? A bigger get-together? Better company?

He exhales and gazes at me meaningfully. ‘I just thought it was going to be you and me tonight.’

I am dumbfounded. Since when did Sam and I ever talk about going out on our own together? I have no recollection of that at all. Maybe when he suggested celebrating with everyone he thought
it’d just be us two as he thinks I don’t have any other friends at Hardy’s? I suppose I am always talking about how no one at the store knows my name. Sam is aware how the
shop-floor staff all come in to tell me their woes but know nothing about my life. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favour by coming out for a drink with me. And now here I am surrounded by
wonderful friends whom Sam has never even heard me talk about.

‘Sorry, that was my mistake.’ I smile apologetically and squeeze his hand. He slides it from my grasp and clasps his hands together under the table. Maybe he’s just shy and
doesn’t like big groups of people he doesn’t know. ‘But this is a much better arrangement, surely?’ I continue brightly. ‘I mean, I suddenly realized after the
promotion débâcle that even though Sharon and Rupert don’t know I exist, and everyone who works on the shop floor thinks I’m called Sarah, there are actually
lots
of
people at the store who know me pretty well and who I consider really good friends. Just like you.’

‘Friends, right,’ Sam says, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ I say quietly, thinking he’s overwhelmed by the unexpected group of people. I would be too. Everyone here is great and they are going to totally love
you as much as I do.’

Sam glances up at me just as another pint of lager is put in front of him.

‘To friends,’ I say as I lift my glass and wait for him to do the same. But he just stares at his glass before taking a long sip.

An hour later and the drinks and conversation are flowing as freely as if we’ve all known each other for years. I can’t help but wonder, as I take a trip to the bar
and look back at our table, what the other pub-goers make of our disparate group. I’m sure if I was trying to guess how we’re all connected I wouldn’t be able to come up with
anything. There’s Lily, who looks like she’s used to spending her evenings dining at The Ritz, chatting animatedly to Jan, who wouldn’t look out of place in a beer-soaked football
shirt on a match day down at the Arsenal. Velna and Felix appear to be swapping outlandish style tips and Justyna is slapping Sam on the back as he roars with laughter. Or pain; I’m not
entirely sure which.

I feel a swell of pride as I look over them all. It takes a group of special people to bond so well so quickly and it makes me wonder if I have underestimated the depth of my friendship with
them. Why have I been so obsessed with thinking that no one at Hardy’s knows me? Felix and I have talked about everything during our early morning coffee chats, from his relationship with
Maisie and their struggle to have children, to my struggle to make a mark in my family. He knows how close Delilah and I are, and that I’d love my father to be as proud of me as he is of her.
He knows that I worry about my mum, who misses her children so much – too much really – and that I know when it is just she and Dad she feels really lonely. He knows that my dad works
too much and that my brothers play too hard, but that I love them all and just wish I didn’t feel like the runt of the litter. And Lily and Sam have always listened to me when I’ve
needed to vent my frustrations about my job and my lack of social life.

I don’t know Velna that well but she makes me laugh every single day at work, which has to count for something. And whilst I’ve never had long, protracted conversations with Jan,
we’ve always been able to find common ground. And not only that, he really helps me in the store, taking a break from his cleaning to cart armfuls of stock around the departments for me early
in the morning, that his presence has become invaluable to me. I don’t think I’d want to work at Hardy’s without any of these people. Which makes me wonder why I’ve been
expending so much energy trying to impress people like Carly and Sharon so that they’ll notice me. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve also been guilty of taking the people I work with
for granted.

I walk back to the table with three glasses pressed between my hands before returning to the bar to get the rest. Lily has moved on to tonic water now. As she said to us earlier after her
Dorothy Parker quote: ‘The most important thing about having fun is knowing when to stop, darlings.’ At which point Jan had rebelliously downed his pint and slammed it on the table,
which had made us all laugh.

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