Miracle on Regent Street (49 page)

‘They’re—’ I begin.

‘VONDERVUL!’ yells Velna.

‘Beautifully shot, Sam,’ says Lily, leaning over to have a look.

‘Bloody brilliant,’ Felix adds proudly.

‘I second all of those things,’ I smile at Sam, feeling the excitement and hope building. ‘Do you really think the papers will run them, though?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Sam shrugs, running his fingers through his already ruffled hair. ‘I mean, local papers love inspiring community stories like this, and it’s
got the right balance of drama, what with the threat of Hardy’s closure. And then there’s the Christmas angle, with you lot acting like the store’s little Secret Elves. But
we’ll see. Wish me luck, guys!’ he says, taking back the pictures and holding up his crossed figures.

‘Good luck!’ I spontaneously embrace Sam and I feel unwelcome shivers of longing as his hands rest gently on the base of my back.

Everyone cheers and Jan Baptysta wolf whistles and I pull away, suddenly embarrassed and confused. Sam is just my friend, he always has been. There’s never been anything more between us.
My mind races back through our relationship and pictures like mental flashcards appear before me: Sam and I talking about our lifelong dreams over our early morning breakfasts; the funny texts he
sends whilst doing his other deliveries, which help to get me through another lonely day in the stockroom; the way my heart always lifts when I see his smiling face as I open the delivery doors.
The searing image of him walking down the road with another girl; that same stab of jealousy when I met Ella. Him leaning in to kiss me in the pub in Primrose Hill . . .

Oh God. I gulp and take another step back from him, suddenly unable to look him in the eye for fear he will see exactly what’s going through my head.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Sam smiles bashfully to the still-cheering crowd. And I nod quickly, turn away and lose myself in the makeover, trying not to look at him as he disappears
out of the store.

Later that afternoon, I wheel my bike across Primrose Hill as Lola and Raffy scramble alongside me, squealing and jumping and stopping to examine sticks and stones and anything
they can to make the journey go at their pace. I let them because I’m in no hurry to get home myself. I can’t stop thinking about Sam and Joel, and feel like I need this walk to clear
my head. I don’t understand why I’ve started having these feelings for Sam when someone as wonderful and gorgeous and exciting as Joel has come along. He’s everything I never
dared to dream about in a man. The sort of guy I always thought wouldn’t look twice at a girl like me. But he has, he is, and he’s made it clear that he doesn’t just see this as a
holiday romance. So why am I risking happiness by thinking about someone else? Someone who has been nothing more than a friend for the past two years. Could my feelings for Sam have lain dormant
for so long just because I was too scared to get close to anyone after Jamie? Has being with Joel given me the confidence to admit it to myself? Or is it just that I haven’t seen enough of
Joel because I’ve been throwing myself wholeheartedly into the makeovers? Am I scared that Joel, who I really like, will hurt me and so I suddenly find myself attracted to someone safe,
someone I know, who is my friend?

Oh
God
, I am so confused.

Lola slips her mittened hand into mine and smiles up at me.

‘Whass wrong, Teevee?’ she says as she trudges alongside me. ‘You look sad.’

I haul her up into my arms and kiss her cold red cheeks. ‘Not sad, Lola. I’m just thinking.’

‘Hmm,’ she says, tapping her lips with her finger. ‘I can do that too.’

I laugh and squeeze her tightly, suddenly feeling thankful that I could get away early enough today to pick them up from nursery. I’ve really missed them this past week and I’m
hoping that today will in some way make up for my absence. Lola starts wriggling and I slide her back down to the ground and watch as she runs off with her brother. They’re so close in age I
hope they’ll be best friends as they grow up. They’ll need each other more than they know.

I had such a wonderful morning, working on the makeover with everyone, chatting and laughing and then working in companionable silence when we realized just what we had to do and in how little
time, that it made me think about how much I miss my sister’s company. For the past week we’ve barely seen each other. It’s like we’re slowly drifting apart. I’m still
carrying the weight of Will’s infidelity around with me and wondering what the hell to do about it, and even though in the past couple of weeks I’ve been happier than I’ve ever
been, at the same time I can’t help but feel bad that the people I’m closest to seem to be falling apart. So I’m simply pretending it isn’t happening, wrapping myself up in
my own world, which, for once, feels magical and inspiring, yet deep down I can’t help feeling that something – or someone – is missing.

Once upon a time I would have known every single thought that my sister was having, I’d be at home to listen to her talk about her worries at work, her fears that she doesn’t spend
enough time with the kids, that Will is too stressed, that the mortgage is too big, that Mum and Dad are too far away, that they’re too tired to have any fun, that she doesn’t spend
enough time with me. She’d talk and I’d listen. That was the deal.

But I haven’t listened for a long time and I realize that whilst sometimes I felt frustrated that it always seemed to be a one-way conversation, I
liked
feeling useful. I enjoyed
listening to her problems and that I was always able to make her feel better in a way that no one else could – not even her husband. My sister, my idol, needed
me
. I could always
rationalize her worries until they became barely a blip on her life’s landscape, and then I’d make her laugh. Our relationship worked like that.

But now I’m seeing Joel, and I’m passionate about my job and actually think I’m finally getting somewhere with my life, it feels like I’m losing my sister as a result. Is
that the price I have to pay? Does our relationship only work when we play the role of sorted older sister and scatty, searching younger sibling? I used to resent her for not helping me in the same
way as I helped her, but now I’m realizing that she
did
help me. I just didn’t appreciate it. She gave me a home and helped rebuild my confidence after Jamie dumped me. I would
never have moved to London, taken my job or even accepted a date with Joel without her. Even if the latter wasn’t exactly done in the most straightforward of ways. By inviting me to live with
her she put her own family’s happiness on the line. I’m sure Will would prefer it if I wasn’t there. Maybe
I’m
part of the reason that their marriage is under
pressure. Has he had affairs so that he could spend less time at home with us? Why didn’t I ever notice the impact that could have on her marriage before?

I open the front door, usher Lola and Raffy inside and am about to take off their coats when I hear someone slamming round the house. A suitcase gets thrown from the second floor down to the top
of the stairs in front of us, and I hastily grab Lola and Raffy by the shoulders and turn them round.

‘Hey, guys!’ I shout. ‘Hands up who wants to go get cupcakes from the Primrose Hill Bakery!’ I’m speaking unnecessarily loudly, to ensure that whoever is upstairs
– I’m presuming it’s Delilah – can hear me.

‘YAY!’ squeals Lola, hopping around in a circle.

‘Yayyayayayayayayayay,’ echoes Raffy, to infinity, it seems.

‘OK, LET’S GO!’ I shout, more to Delilah than to them, and open the door and walk back out into the bleak winter’s afternoon, thankful for the kid’s favourite cosy
café just round the corner that is always full of delicious cakes and a friendly welcome. Seconds later my phone bleeps.

‘Thanks. I love you lil sis. D x’

That night, I lie in bed with a pillow over my head as I listen to Will and Delilah shouting at each other, hoping that because it’s so late, the kids will be in too much
of a deep sleep to hear. They may live in a gorgeous house, in a picture-perfect area of London, but the words and accusations coming out of their mouths are as ugly as anything you’d hear on
EastEnders
. I press the pillow down further, trying to drown out the sound of Delilah’s screaming and Will’s bewildered, defensive arguments.

He tells her he’s not always out because he’s having an affair, he just has to work late. Then he adds that she’s mad to think he would ever cheat on her and I feel my stomach
churn at his blatant lies.

You’re never here, she says.

Nor are you, he counters.

You’re obsessed with work, she screams.

Only because you’re obsessed with this ridiculously lavish lifestyle, he yells.

You never see the kids

The kids never see you . . .

Back and forth, round and round, going nowhere other than down. This family is sinking, I think. And it’s all my fault. I know because I hear Will say it: ‘She’s always
here,’ he says despairingly. And I know he means me. And he’s right.

My phone, which I am clutching to my chest, buzzes and glows under the covers. I press the Call Accept button and smile despite myself as I hear Joel’s voice.

‘I’M GOING OUT,’ Will shouts at the same time as Joel says hello.

The door slams and I shiver as I hear the sound of Delilah’s sobs echo despairingly around the house. But I don’t get up and go to her, like I should. I can’t. Joel’s
here and he’s making me feel better and I need that right now. And besides, I can’t face her. It’s all my fault that this is happening. I should just stay up here, tucked away in
my turret, make myself invisible beneath my covers, lose myself in the sound of Joel’s gentle chat. I’ll be there to comfort her and pick up the pieces later. Once I’ve finished
this phone call.

When Joel says goodnight I put the phone on my bedside table and get out of bed. I quietly climb down the stairs, shivering as the cold grips my skin, and gently push open the
door. Delilah is curled in a tight heap on the bed, the duvet a dishevelled ball thrown on to the floor, her sad, staring eyes wet with tears. Next to her lies a framed picture of her and Will on
their wedding day. I move it out of the way, turning it face down on her bedside table. Then I shake the duvet out and pull it over her, tucking it in around her neck. She mutters something and I
stroke her hair to soothe her. Then I climb into bed beside her and lie there with my hand on top of hers, hoping that my presence will bring her some comfort. She grasps it tightly and I realize
that she needs me more than she’s ever let on. A heavy silence pervades the house and soon Delilah’s breathing becomes deeper and slower and her hand goes limp next to mine. I try to
drift off into sleep myself but find I can’t. I’m unbearably uncomfortable, despite the warmth of my pyjamas and the softness of the duvet, and I realize as I toss and turn for the
first time in my life, I’m feeling what it’s like to be in Delilah’s skin. I lie awake for a long time.

Thursday 15 December

10 Shopping Days Until Christmas

I
jump as I hear a loud banging at the delivery door and put down the old Hardy’s Christmas decorations I’ve been sorting through,
cleaning the dust and dirt off them and putting the best ones in piles according to which department I can imagine them in. There are only nine days left till Christmas Eve and our festive makeover
is long overdue. It’s my secret weapon, the thing I am hoping will bring customers streaming back through the doors. I’m just waiting for the right moment to do it.

I pick my way through the boxes and head over to the back of the stockroom, yawning loudly. I came to work at my normal time this morning as there was no department makeover due. I want to see
what the customer reaction to the new-look designers department is before starting on another. I’m still not 100 per cent sure we got it right. The staff all seemed to love it yesterday
– apart from Carly, who seemed a little disgruntled – but she soon cheered up when everyone started telling her how great it looked. Even Elaine managed to look happy. I left work just
as the lunchtime rush was starting and so have no idea whether they sold anything.