Miracle on Regent Street (46 page)

Just then my mobile rings and I feel a complicated flash of lust and panic as I see Joel’s name appear on my screen. I haven’t spoken to him other than to text to apologize for
running off on Sunday. He said he’d call, but part of me didn’t expect him to. And his call is reminding me that this should be for Carly.
She
should be dating some gorgeous
American man right now who would lift her confidence and make her feel wonderful, which would make her better at her job and happier at work. I know the power that the attention of a man like Joel
can wield. It’s why it’s proving so hard to let him go.

I stare at the phone and watch as it switches to voicemail, vowing to phone him back later. The only way I can deal with the guilt of what I’ve done is to save Carly’s job and to
make people think that Carly
is
the one doing all the makeovers. Even though Carly has already had a go at making over Designers, I know I have to redo it in a way that will really impress
Rupert and Sharon, as well as regain Carly’s respect from the rest of the staff. And it will also stop me from feeling so guilty about Joel. Because I have to see him again. I just have
to.

‘H
ello, it’s me,’ I murmur from where I’m crouched in a far corner of the stockroom, surrounded by a forest of beautiful
garments encased in shimmering plastic. I’ve spent the afternoon cherry-picking Carly’s best stock purchases in preparation for her department’s makeover. No one can deny the girl
knows her fashion, I think, as I run my fingers over a beautiful, nude silk-chiffon draped column dress – then I glance at a tiny black leather chain-embellished minidress that’s on top
of my discarded pile and make a face – she just doesn’t know Hardy’s customers. I prop my phone against my ear and luxuriate in the low hum of Joel’s voice as he murmurs
softly down the line.

‘Well, hey there, stranger,’ he says softly. ‘I’ve been wondering if you might call me back. I wasn’t sure you would after you ran out on me on Sunday.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I mutter, ashamed.

‘So what was the deal with that?’ Joel asks, the tension now apparent in his voice.

‘I-I just freaked out a little,’ I reply in what could be the Understatement of the Century. ‘I was having such a good time and I just thought about the fact you’d be
going home soon, and I just felt that things were moving too fast . . .’

‘But I’ve said you could always come with me,’ he interjects, snowballing me slightly. ‘So why don’t you?’

‘What?’

‘Come home and meet my family. They’d adore you. You’d love the holidays in the States. And even though we’d miss Christmas Day, all the decorations would still be up . .
.’

A flood of glorious images rushes into my mind: popcorn and cranberries on string, snowy sidewalks, pumpkin pie oozing with spices, eggnog laced with rum, red-and-white-striped candy canes, big
department stores draped with sumptuous decorations and gorgeously gift-wrapped presents.

‘I-I couldn’t,’ I stammer.

‘Why not?’

But I’m barely listening. He wants me to MEET HIS FAMILY? At CHRISTMAS? And, oh God, I want to, so badly. Each year since Jamie and I split up I’ve sat around the dinner table with
my parents, Delilah and Will, and Jonah and Noah’s ever-changing carousel of girlfriends, and had to deal with the ribbing from them that there I was, single, again, dealing with hilarious
gifts like a book called
How to Find Career Success
from my dad, Nigella’s
How to Be a Domestic Goddess
from my mum, truly hilarious blow-up boyfriend dolls from my brothers
(no, really), and a beautiful piece of designer clothing from my sister that is always so small I could never squeeze into it in a million years. I’d give anything to spend this year with
Joel. To run away from everything and everyone. I suddenly find myself caught up in a fantasy where I move to Pennsylvania so we can run his family store together and live happily ever after. I
visualize our farewell party, complete with bunting and cupcakes and ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ playing in the background. I can even imagine Raffy and Lola’s wails as they cling
to my legs and yell, ‘Don’t leave us, Teevee, we love you, take us with you!’ whilst I cover their heads with kisses. But that would mean him knowing who I really am. He’s
attracted to a version of me that doesn’t really exist. He would drop me like a shot if he knew the truth.

Or would he?

The more I get to know Joel, the more I think maybe, just maybe, he might have come to love me. Evie. I mean, like me, he loves his family, he wants to settle down and, judging by how hung up he
was on his ex, he’s a one-woman kind of guy. And he’s loyal to his friends – just look how he’s helping out Rupert with Hardy’s finances. If I’d just told him
the truth in the first place then I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Perhaps now I would be using my savings to book a plane ticket and would be preparing for the Christmas of my dreams. If
only I’d had the confidence just to be myself.

I realize that Joel is waiting for an explanation.

‘I-I couldn’t . . . leave my family,’ I reply. ‘My sister, well, she’s having marriage problems and she needs me.’

‘You don’t talk about her much,’ he says. ‘Are you close?’

‘Yes,’ I reply without thinking. And then I think about how long it’s been since we had a proper conversation that didn’t involve frostiness and recriminations.
‘Well, we were,’ I say sadly before adding: ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Sounds it,’ Joel laughs, and I can’t help wishing that he’d ask me more. But he doesn’t. ‘So listen, it’s funny you called. Guess where I am?’ He
pauses for a nanosecond. ‘Hardy’s!’ he announces jubilantly.

‘W-where?’ I manage to stutter.

‘Actually I’m in the designers department!’ he says proudly. ‘I decided if Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain . . .’

My stomach lurches. Oh God. Not again. Why does he keep doing this to me?

‘Right!’ I say brightly. ‘Great! I’ll be right there.’ I glance at the dresses around me and grab an armful. ‘I’m, er, just picking up some stuff from,
er . . . Personal Shopping. See you in a minute!’

I chuck my phone on the floor and stagger down the central aisle of the stockroom towards the door, carrying the beautiful, expensive gowns. I have to get up there and find Carly. Then I have to
distract Joel and . . . then . . . then, well, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do then. I’ll have to think on my feet.

I run up the stairs, panting heavily as I weave my way between bewildered-looking customers, trying to stop the dresses from getting tangled between my legs whilst simultaneously wishing that I
was wearing my trusty loafers and not the stacked 1970s wedges I picked up from Spitalfields last week.

‘Argh!’ I cry as I stumble over the last step and topple to the floor, one hand held aloft like the Statue of Liberty. A pair of well-shined shoes appears in my eye-line and I glance
up to see an amused-looking Joel standing over me. My eyes are immediately drawn to a certain part of his anatomy.

‘. . . knows no bounds,’ Joel chuckles as he helps me to my feet.

‘What?’ I say, dragging my eyes away from his groin as I glance at the crumpled dresses I’m lying on in dismay. I’ll have to get the steamer on them later.

‘I said,’ he repeats, ‘your enthusiasm to see me knows no bounds.’

‘Oh, yes, right, ha ha, very funny. Ow.’

‘Bruised ego?’ Joel says, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me gently to my feet.

‘No, bruised knees,’ I reply, rubbing them whilst furtively scanning the department to see where Carly is. I spot her mooching around by the till. She appears to be pouncing
desperately on passing customers, who are waving her away like an annoying fly. I can see she is trying too hard.

‘Er, shall we go downstairs?’ I hiss, trying to lead Joel round in a circle and over to the stairs that I’ve just run up.

‘Why don’t you show me this department instead?’ Joel says, turning me back around. ‘I guess this is where you do all the styling for your high-end customers.’

Carly is now ensconced in a magazine at the till. I have to get her out of here.

‘Of course!’ I say enthusiastically. ‘Er, I just need to chat to my, um, staff first. Work before pleasure, you know! You wait here.’

I drag Joel to a far corner of the department and stand him directly behind a long grey slashed dress splattered with red. Carly has hung it from the ceiling, making it look like a prop from
some sort of macabre murder scene. I dash over to her, glancing back to see Joel’s feet peeking out from underneath the dress and stifling a nervous laugh.

‘Er, Carly,’ I say and she glances up at me with sad, doleful eyes. Her cheeks are blotchy and it looks like she’s been crying. ‘Hey, are you OK?’ I ask, touching
her gently on the arm.

She nods and goes to speak, but then her eyes start filling up with tears.

‘Oh, don’t cry,’ I say, alarmed, ‘not here. Come on, let’s get you back to the stockroom. You look like you could do with a cup of tea.’

‘But what about the department?’ she protests tearfully.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you down there,’ I say, and push her towards the stairs. She turns and slopes despondently off
and I wait for a moment before darting over to where Joel is still standing patiently waiting for me. He looks up from his iPhone and smiles, his eyes shining with pleasure.

‘Hi, you,’ he says, and slides his phone into his pocket.

‘Hi. Um, Joel, I appear to have a bit of a staff problem,’ I say pulling a face. ‘You know how it is. I really need to sort some stuff out. Sorry, you’ve caught me at a
bad time. I could meet you later, though?’

‘Sure,’ Joel shrugs. ‘I guess I did kinda come unannounced and I can’t just expect you to drop everything. I know how important you are to this place. Actually, I’m
due to meet Rupert anyway, so why don’t you come and find me when you’re done and maybe we can have lunch?’ He leans forward and kisses me on the lips, which makes me want to leap
into his arms and beg him to take me away from all this. Instead, I smile bashfully as I pull back, then quickly, unable to stop myself, I lean forward and give him a long, lingering kiss before I
dash off, frantically looking for Elaine to see if she can cover the department for half an hour.

I eventually find Elaine in Haberdashery, helping Bernie and Susan, who appear to be working on their very own department makeover.

‘Elaine,’ I pant breathlessly, ‘I’m so glad I found you. Can you cover Designers for a bit? I, er, I need Carly with me in the stockroom.’

‘Go on, dearie,’ Bernie says in her lilting Irish voice as Susan beams brightly at us. ‘We’ve got it from here, sure we do. The buttons are going to go over here, and the
vintage fabric is going to be displayed under this bunting that Susan’s made.’ Susan picks up an armful of fabric flags and holds them up: lots of perfectly sewn triangles of beautiful
vintage fabric, some patchwork, others showcasing some of the gorgeous fabrics they sell in the department; pale mint and white polka dots, lilac and blue gingham and gorgeous Cath Kidston-style
floral designs.

‘What a great idea!’ I exclaim, and Susan’s pale, powdered cheeks go a little pink as Bernie nudges her proudly. ‘And these buttons are amazing!’ I pounce on the
box of shiny old buttons and rifle through them.

‘Ahhh, yes, Susan here had the idea of going and searching in the stockroom for all the other old buttons and fabrics that we knew had been kept, well, ever since we’ve worked here,
which is what, Susan? Forty years now?’

‘Forty-one, so it is,’ Susan corrects proudly.

‘We’ve decided to give it a “Make Do and Mend” theme. It’s very trendy these days, apparently. We’re even thinking of setting up a craft corner right here in
the department, doing different demonstrations each week and inviting customers to come and learn a new skill, like quilting, or lace-making or crocheting. Susan and I can do them all, you
know.’

I clap my hands. ‘That sounds wonderful,’ I say, feeling a swell of pride that these two stalwarts of the old-school Hardy’s have taken the store’s redesign to their
hearts and are using their own expertise to update their department in a way that I never could. ‘It’s looking better already.’

‘Ahh, sure, we couldn’t have done it without Elaine. She’s been telling us just what the youngsters like these days and giving us ideas.’

‘I’ve loved it,’ Elaine says happily. Then her tone darkens. ‘And I’m not going back to Designers if Carly is still there. I can’t work with that girl a
minute longer.’

‘She won’t be,’ I say. ‘Please, Elaine? Just for half an hour or so?’

‘OK, seeing as it’s you,’ Elaine says begrudgingly.

I smile gratefully and dash off.

I’m alarmed to find Carly slumped on the sofa in the stockroom, lights switched off and sobbing into a cushion. I rush over and flick the Christmas tree lights on, then
perch on the end of the sofa and stroke her hair soothingly.

‘Hey now, it can’t be that bad,’ I say, trying to shake the guilty feeling that I am to blame for her misery.

‘Can’t it?’ She sniffs and turns her face to look at me. She looks terrible. ‘No one will speak to me, no one!’ she blubs despairingly as I put my arm around her.
‘I’m trying to do my job as b-best I can but no one will let me. Elaine won’t work with me in Designers, and when I try to go to other departments to help them remerchandise they
just tell me they want to wait for the Secret Elf to come and do it. I-I’m meant to be the assistant manager! How am I supposed to impress Rupert if no one will let me do my job?’