Covent Garden in the Snow

by Jules Wake

  Waking up, I felt calmer, like a small boat bobbing in a wide ocean after a storm. Even Alison had said I was a talented make-up artist. With a wry smile, as I emptied the washing up bowl, I realised how far I’d come. Some might say I’d grown up. They’d probably be right. I’d even planned my day to keep myself busy. Once I’d finished tidying up here, I was going to go over to the flat, pack a few more things to bring back to Christelle’s and make a list of things to do to smarten the place up before meeting her this evening for the first event of the Hunter sisters’ Christmas calendar.

  Christelle phoned as I was wrapping her silk scarf, confident that she was going to love it, as well as the leather business card holder embossed with a C and the DVD of Legally Blonde. Sadly, the T-shirt with the words You can’t scare me, my sister’s a legal eagle which I’d ordered from the internet, wouldn’t make it in time for Christmas but picturing her face when it did, made me smile.

  ‘They want to see you.’ She sounded full of glee. ‘Today. ASAP.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Yup, they obviously want to sort things out quickly.’

  I didn’t need to ask who they were.

  ‘And that’s good?’

  ‘Technically yes.’

  ‘What about not technically?’

  ‘Let’s go with the positives. They said they have new evidence. It must be good … otherwise they’d follow procedure and convene a disciplinary panel. Can you meet me at the stage door in an hour’s time?’

  ‘Sure.’ Nerves shimmered in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to know one way or the other whether I’d get my job back. I also wanted to know why Marcus hadn’t been in touch. Was that good or bad?

  I dressed with care. If I was going into battle I wanted to look the part. Christelle’s professional armour of black must have rubbed off, because I found myself pulling on a little-worn tailored black dress which just skimmed my knees. I looked good in it, but not me.

  I shook my head at my reflection in Christelle’s full length mirror, another reminder of my half-hearted homemaking. In the flat I’d have to stand on the loo seat in the bathroom to get a view of my bottom half. Why had I never got around to buying a proper mirror? I took another appraising look at myself. I needed to be me. I added high heeled red suede ankle boots and a matching cherry red shrug and a red beret. That was more me. Battle ready, I left the flat gripping my vintage 50’s crocodile handbag like a lifebelt.

  I could have spent the whole journey second guessing what they might say, what might happen and I refused to let this damn episode take any more head space. Instead I focused on all the things I wanted to do in the next six months. Tart up the flat. Put it on the market. Look for a new job. Maybe invite Mum and Dad down to stay. Get them tickets for something at the Met.

  And then the lift at Covent Garden deposited me at the top of the station and the stage door was a ten-minute walk.

  Nerves shimmered. Christelle was already there and waiting for me.

  ‘You OK?’

  I nodded, not trusting my voice to work. My legs were shaking as I signed the visitors’ book.

  ‘Don’t worry Tilly.’ She led the way into the lift. ‘The fact that they want to see you now, is good. It means that the situation has changed.’ She paused. ‘Although, you … you need to be clear in your mind what you want the outcome to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Sometimes when they suspend someone, admitting that they’re wrong can be quite tricky. Organisations can get very funny about setting the wrong sort of precedent.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘They might want to pay you off. Don’t worry; they’ll agree to give you references. Compensation but … they might not give you your job back. I’m just warning you. Preparing you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I realised that. I want references. That’s the most important thing.’

  She shook her head and was about to say something but the lift doors drew open and there was no time to say anything. Alison Kreufeld lurked outside as if she were waiting for me and before Marsha’s secretary could reach me, she nodded at me and winked.

  ‘This way please, Miss Hunter,’ said the secretary, side-stepping Alison who trailed after us.

  Marsha and the Chief Executive were sitting at the same round table as we were ushered in to the room. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed that Marcus wasn’t present. Where was he? And what had he said to them? Presumably they’d spoken to him after receiving Christelle’s letter. I guessed he was still the company man. Had he told them that he’d contacted me?

  ‘Good afternoon and thank you for coming so promptly.’

  ‘Good afternoon. This is my legal representative, Christelle Hunter.’ Spending time with my sister had rubbed off. Despite my churning stomach on a warp speed spin, I was pleased how together and professional I sounded.

  ‘Ah yes,’ the Chief Executive’s voice sounded strained. ‘You’ve been most diligent on behalf of your client.’ I don’t think he meant it as a compliment.

  ‘Thank you.’ Christelle’s crisp acceptance made me smile as his mouth tightened. She had no intention of making this easy for anyone.

  Marsha exchanged a look with Julian, part exasperation and part impatience.

  ‘Miss Hunter, Tilly. Since we last saw you, we have received new information which completely exonerates your name and makes it clear that you had absolutely nothing to do with the emails that were sent.’

  Under the table Christelle nudged my foot with hers, I could feel her leg jumping up and down.

  ‘We wish to make an unreserved apology and would like to reinstate you in your position with immediate effect. You can return to work as soon as you’d like to.’

  Christelle opened her mouth.

  Marsha intercepted holding up her hand. ‘Tilly, we know that this whole business must have caused you terrible distress and we,’ she shot the Chief Executive a dirty look, ‘would like to make some reparation. Your work has always been exemplary and in fact some of the performers have been quite vociferous in their support of you. Our Artistic Director, Ms Kreufeld has been most insistent that we should make an internal appointment and on her recommendation, we have therefore decided to promote you to Assistant Department Head with a significant pay rise on a permanent contract.’

  Stunned, I sat there vaguely aware of Christelle talking about paperwork and revised contracts.

  ‘If we could have a moment.’ Christelle nudged me, rising from her seat and inclining her head. I followed her out of the room.

  ‘Are you OK with this?’ she asked.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ I asked, my legs so shaky they could barely hold me up, even though I wanted to jump up and down and squeal. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘We could still play hard ball.’ She winked.

  ‘No, this is,’ I threw my arms around her, jittery with emotion, ‘just perfect. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ she said with a cocky grin, returning the hug.

  ‘No, seriously. You have been amazing.’

  ‘Only because I completely believed in you. You’re amazing.’

  We returned to the room and in a complete daze, my hands trembling, I signed something which Christelle sanctioned.

  As the meeting drew to a close, I finally managed to gather my wits about me. ‘Can I ask what evidence did you find?’ I was dying to know how Marcus backed me up.

  Marsha smiled grimly. ‘We had a full confession from another member of the team. He said he’d been deliberately using your account so that he wouldn’t get found out. He resigned immediately.’

  ‘What?’ I asked throwing a stunned look at Christelle who appeared equally surprised.

  ‘Vince Redmond.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ I said for the 95th million time as I sat in Jeanie’s office. Christelle, brimming with triumph, had beetled off to collect a turkey crown
from Marks, having discovered that for all my Christmas preparations, I’d completely forgotten the smaller matter of a turkey.

  ‘Vince confessed.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Jeanie seemed very grumpy.

  ‘He must have listened to his conscience after all.’

  Jeanie scowled.

  I nudged her in the ribs. ‘Go on, don’t you think he deserves a smidgeon of credit.’

  ‘Tilly!’ With a sudden jerk, she shoved a pile of papers into her bin. ‘He didn’t confess out of the goodness of his heart.’

  ‘Well why did he then?’

  I could see her weighing things up before a decided smirk crossed her face. ‘Marcus persuaded him it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Marcus?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her sudden grin was positively evil. ‘Let’s say he put Vince in an impossible position.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He rounded up a few witnesses, Philippe, Pietro, Guillaume, Carol, myself and explained that he had evidence that could be vilified–’

  ‘Verified.’

  ‘That too. To prove that you couldn’t have sent the emails at the time you had and he waffled on about IDs and two places at once. Then he went and stood in front of Vince and said, “I know it was you. And I can prove it, it will just take a few days, but it’s inevitable. In the meantime, Tilly’s going to be worrying all through Christmas about the job that she adores.” He looked round at everyone and said. “We don’t want that, do we?” Vince went very red. And then Marcus whispered very loudly, “Or I could just beat you to a pulp.”’

  ‘He did what?’ I laced my fingers together tightly to hide the surge of electricity tingling through my veins, like jitterbugs.

  ‘Very masterful, he was.’

  ‘Blimey and what … Vince just confessed?’

  ‘He blustered a bit and then he and Marcus left the room. That was this morning.’

  ‘Where’s Marcus now?’

  ‘He said he had some shopping to do.’

  By five o’clock I was just putting the finishing touches to my lengthy list of improvements to the flat after wandering around through the silent rooms with a notebook and pen, trying to avoid the memories of all that Felix and I had shared. I’d packed some extra clothes ready to go to Christelle’s – we were going to sing carols in Trafalgar Square at seven, before returning to her flat for Prosecco cocktails – when the door-bell rang.

  When I opened my door, there was no one there but a large box sitting in the doorway.

  There was no delivery note or anything – just my name written on the top. It was too big to carry back upstairs, so I sat down on the cold concrete step buffeted by the winter wind.

  Peeling back the cardboard, I looked down into the box, swiping at my hair which was being blown over my face. All I could see was a large flat rectangle of pale grey opaque plastic. What on earth was it? Putting my hands into the box, I slipped each one down on either side of the plastic to pull whatever it was out. My fingers on one side touched the cold glaze of china and a handle, the other side was solid. I grasped the thing and slid it out of the box and pulled the unwieldy object onto my knees, starting to smile as I realised what it was.

  A piece of paper with my name on it caught in the wind and I had to snatch at it.

  My heart thumping, I unfolded the paper.

  Happy Christmas

  Mx

  A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach as I studied it, before laughing out loud. The squat, Bakelite Goblin Teasmade was the ugliest present anyone had ever sent me.

  ‘Is it the best present or the worst?’

  Peering up through my windswept hair I saw Marcus looming over me.

  I slowly stood up, carefully placing it on the step trying to school my features, while a thousand hopeful thoughts raced through my head.

  ‘Where on earth did you find it?’ I asked, still unable to believe he was really here.

  ‘On the internet, but I had to drive to Croydon to pick it up. That’s why I wasn’t at work earlier.’ He was watching me closely and I realised I hadn’t answered his question.

  I stared back down at the teasmade in thoughtful silence.

  Marcus waited as I struggled to find the words.

  ‘That depends …’ My voice shook. I wanted to be calm and not give anything away but it was so difficult when he was standing there looking utterly gorgeous in one of his usual suits, with that familiar serious expression highlighting every feature of his face, narrowed green eyes searching mine and his hair standing in uncharacteristic little tufts as if he’d been running his hands through it.

  ‘It … It depends on,’ I took in a sharp breath and then deciding what the hell, finished quickly with, ‘… on who’s drinking the tea with me.’

  We stared at each other for a moment. My heart fizzed with longing at the expression on his face.

  ‘I … I hoped it might be … ,’ for one adorable moment which made my chest tighten, he sounded terribly unsure.

  I took in another breath, holding onto it so tightly it almost hurt waiting for him to finish.

  ‘… me?’ The questioning note made my insides turn liquid but still I held out.

  ‘What’s changed? You … you said you didn’t want Christelle to let anyone know you had helped find the evidence. I thought you’d washed your hands of me.’

  The lines around his lips, which I couldn’t peel my hungry gaze from, tightened as if in pain.

  ‘I had to appear impartial. I didn’t want there to be any room for anyone to question the evidence or my motives.’ The hurried words were forceful and almost panicky. ‘Make sure no one could accuse me of being emotionally involved.’

  My heart bumped in my chest. ‘Emotionally involved?’ My fingers curled over my thumbs as if I were clutching them to keep myself grounded even though the rest of me seemed to be preparing to float away.

  Marcus lifted a tentative hand and I watched as he lifted it towards me to stroke away one of the curls dancing in the wind across my face. The tip of his finger just trailed across my cheek and I was a goner. The gesture just got to me, I could hardly speak but there were still so many questions and I daren’t assume anything. I waited.

  ‘Yes. Despite everything I thought when I started, I couldn’t help myself. You and everyone else there are all bloody useless with computers and drive me insane with your completely crap disregard for technology, but I’ve never worked anywhere where people who are so,’ he held out his hands in a gesture of frustration, ‘bonkers, ridiculous, crazy, idiotic, dramatic, weird work together so seamlessly. It’s some huge Luddite machine that magically slots together, the orchestra, the costumes, the actors, the lighting crew. On the night, it’s some incredible miracle.

  ‘And you,’ he took my face between his hands. ‘You are amazing. I’ve seen hundreds of workaholics, wedded to the job, letting it define them, dominate their waking hours but not adding anything to them. With you, you live for the job and embrace it with such passion and joy. You bound with energy and positivity. I envy that. I’ve never come across it before. Not for glory or for promotions or money. Just because you love what you do.’ His eyes blazed with an emotion that hit me, almost stopping my heart as he lowered his voice, ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you. I fell in love with work again and …’

  I think my face must have said quite a bit because with a sudden movement, he hauled me into his arms and planted his lips on mine with determined possession, his hand cradling my head in a move that I found unbearably sexy. The electric, tentative touch of his tongue, a gentle contrast to the firm pressure of his mouth made my knees almost buckle and forget we were standing on the doorstep in full view of the street. We’d kissed before but this was a whole new ball game, a set your soul on fire, desperate imprint of skin on skin filled with searing intensity. Completely intoxicating. I was lost. Oh man. Everything was soft, gentle and so, so moreish. His tongue teased mine and my whole system went on red alert
, nerve endings firing up to full throttle.

  When he released my lips, he smoothed my face and took my hand and led me towards the front door. ‘I’m most definitely emotionally involved. You made me feel things that I didn’t believe in. Like love.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said in a very small voice.

  ‘Do you think you could feel anything for a corporate bod masquerading as the Prince of Darkness?’

  ‘I think I might be able to manage that.’ I smiled at him. ‘You never know. I might even go over to the dark side and master this technology business.’

  With an unromantic snort, he said, ‘Steady on. I don’t think I’m ready for that. I wouldn’t want to think I’m redundant already.’

  A naughty smile sprang to my lips. ‘I’m sure there are other things you could teach me.’

  ‘Shall we get that teasmade installed?’ There was a suggestive twinkle in his eye that made me laugh.

  ‘New euphemism?’ Reluctantly, I pulled a rueful face. ‘Slight problem, I’m supposed to be meeting Christelle in two hours in Trafalgar Square.’

  Marcus gave me a very wicked smile. ‘That’s OK, I asked Guillaume to keep her occupied. We’re meeting them at eight.’

  ‘In that case, let’s take this baby for a trial run. And then I’ll let you know how it measures up in the Christmas present stakes.’

  Epilogue

  Wrapped up against the wind with Marcus’s arm around my shoulders, I looked up towards the very top of the Christmas tree to the star, lit up and shining like a brilliant beacon, and noticed the first flakes of snow starting to fall. Around us voices joined in with the choir singing Silent Night, the notes rising and falling, carried by the flurries of air swirling around us. The magical atmosphere of community and happiness brought a sudden rush of contentment and tears of joy filled my eyes.