‘That’s all Mandy knows.’ Sam helps herself to a slice of Yule log. ‘Apparently a request has been received via a solicitor in London. Something about a mystery person enquiring about a change of use from shop to hotel with underground parking.’
‘I knew it!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Kelly! I knew it right from the start that she wasn’t to be trusted. I heard her, remember? Talking about a hotel with underground parking. I thought she was lining up her next TV series.’
‘Yes! I remember,’ Sam says.
‘But it doesn’t make sense. Why would she invest so much money in the store if she plans on closing it down and making it into a hotel?’ I ask, my mind racing, desperate for it to be a mistake. For Mandy to have got it horribly wrong.
‘Exactly! Now can you see why somebody has to confront Tom? He’s the boss, after all. The major shareholder. And this affects all of us.’
‘True,’ I say, trying to think straight.
‘Enough is enough. He can’t carry on like this. First he dumps you, and now he wants to dump Carrington’s. And I for one have worked too hard to sit back and lose my lovely café, on top of everything else I’ve lost.’ Her voice falters momentarily. I squeeze her hand.
‘But he loves this store. It’s his family’s business going back generations. The original Mr Carrington was his great grandfather. Why would he even want to sell Carrington’s? We have to find out more. Can’t you ask Mandy for a name?’ I ask, panic rising in my voice.
‘I’ve already tried but she wasn’t budging – data protection and all that.’ Sam shakes her head.
‘Well, there’s got to be something we can do. Some way of getting more information before we confront Tom,’ I plead.
‘But let’s look at the facts. A hotel could also benefit from a pet spa; guests could even board their pooches next door and have them walked, too, like a kind of dog hotel. You know there are restaurants and hotels in London that do it – exercise your dog while you dine,’ she says, knowingly. ‘And why not have an ice rink on the roof?’
‘Ahh, but you wouldn’t refurbish a whole personal shopping suite just to rip it out again when you turn it into a junior stateroom or whatever. And you know she’s even installed a Costa Express machine in there,’ I say, still hoping somehow that Mandy really has got it all wrong.
‘Well, some hotels have coffee machines too,’ Sam sniffs disapprovingly.
I nod, letting it all sink in as I desperately try to push the sickening feeling aside. What if Tom really is selling? He could be. He told me himself he was worried about turning the store around, being able to pull it off. And all those doubters in the business world he had to contend with, watching and whispering about his abilities – maybe he’s seen an opportunity, a way out, and decided to sell to Kelly and Zara, and most likely Princess Ameerah is on it too. She’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps she’s the one putting up the money so Kelly and Zara can film the transition from shop to hotel. And it’s not as if doing the show has upped our game that much. Takings are only slightly higher than would be expected anyway for this time of year. I saw the sales chart on the wall of the staff canteen. And not forgetting his horrible text message, is this what he meant about me losing my job too? Because if Carrington’s were to become a hotel, then where would that leave me and the rest of the staff – Eddie, Annie, Mrs Grace, Melissa, Lauren, Doris and Suzanne? We all love working here. It doesn’t bear thinking about. And in an instance, the wrap party I’ve been dreading for so long, now suddenly seems so much more appealing – if nothing else, I’ll get to see Tom. To talk to him. To confront him, once and for all. To find out exactly what is going on. Sam is right, we can’t just sit back and let him sell Carrington’s out from under us … but there’s something else I must do first.
23
Five shopping days until Christmas
I’m in the little wine bar tucked down a side street behind Carrington’s. I’ve decided to meet up with Dan to explain how I feel. It’s only fair. We thought it best to meet here, discreet, and away from the Mulberry gossips and the paparazzi. I take a sip of rosé, pacing myself. It’s Monday evening – well, late afternoon really – but I need something to help me relax. I’m so wound up, even my shoulders seem to have fused into a spasm. I’m back on the emotional rollercoaster – one minute I still want Tom so much it practically takes my breath away, but then in the next moment I’m consumed with a mixture of sorrow and anger. Angry with myself for getting it so wrong yet again. How could I have been so stupid? To actually think he was into me, that we were really going to spend Christmas together. It’s obvious now, if he is planning on letting Carrington’s become a hotel, that he never had any real intention of us having a future together. He can’t have done. He knows how much I love the store, how I grew up with it. It’s part of me. And all those conversations we had, where he confided in me about his plans for Carrington’s, schmoozed me with it all – was I just a distraction until someone like Zara came along? Because if that’s what it really was, then he really needn’t have bothered making so much effort – all those illicit glances across the shop floor, rendezvous in his office, lunch dates, dinner dates, long late-night conversations, even travelling to Italy to surprise me … I wanted him from the first moment I clapped eyes on him. I wanted to sleep with him. And women can want sex too these days – this isn’t the Victorian times or whenever, where they had to pretend they didn’t. But it was so much more than that too. I was falling in love with him and you can’t just switch that off, no matter how hard you try.
I glance at my watch, and on seeing that I’m fifteen minutes early, I pull out my mobile to try Sam again. I’m getting worried as she hasn’t been around. I’ve not managed to talk to her since that day in the café – whenever I’ve popped into the café she’s not there, and Stacey doesn’t know where she is. And when I’ve called her, there’s either no answer or she hasn’t returned my messages. It’s unlike Sam to go AWOL; we usually talk or see each other every day. I’m just about to hang up when she answers.
‘Sam! Are You OK?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m fine. Sorry. I’ve been busy … just some business stuff. Boring!’ She laughs.
‘Ah, I see. As long as you’re all right. I was getting worried,’ I say, feeling relieved. It’s most likely something to do with Archie’s multimillion-pound estate. As his sole beneficiary, Sam has had loads to sort out since he died earlier this year. Meeting with Archie’s lawyers. In addition to his estate agency business, he owned three properties, and that was just in this country. I think she said there were apartments in Hong Kong, Dubai and Sydney too. Archie didn’t like hotels, much preferring to stay in one of his own homes when travelling. And then there is the multitude of international business accounts. I remember Sam saying they were a convoluted puzzle that the lawyers were struggling to sort out – Nathan had to call in the help of an international taxation specialist to help unravel everything. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ I offer, but knowing there probably isn’t. ‘Paperwork? I could file stuff, or make tea? Or what about phone calls – I could help with those,’ I joke, feeling relieved that she’s OK.
‘Thanks, but not really. Think I’ve got it under control, just be nice to get everything sorted out by Christmas. Only seven days to go!’ She sounds excited, and it makes me feel really happy for her after everything she’s been through. ‘Are you sure it’s still OK to come to yours?’ Sam asks.
‘Absolutely, you wait till you see the mountain of food I’ve got in. And Dad is really looking forward to seeing you.’
‘Great. I’m looking forward to it too. And the New Year. It’s a new start, full of wonderful possibilities … ’ And she sounds brighter than she has in a long time.
Dan arrives, unravelling his scarf and pulling off his gloves as he reaches the table. One of his security people, a tall guy in a duffel coat, scans the room before settling himself on a stool at the bar.
‘Not
been waiting too long I hope.’ Dan leans in to give me a kiss, his cheeks flushed and cold from the icy winter air outside. I smile and shake my head.
‘I just arrived. Can I get you a drink?’ I offer and go to stand up.
‘Oh no, stay put. I’ll get them. Same again?’ he asks, motioning to my now half-empty wine glass.
‘Err.’ I hesitate. I really shouldn’t, I’ve got work tomorrow. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine,’ I say, relaxing a bit.
‘Sure. Be back in a sec.’
My mobile rings and on seeing a number I don’t recognise, I quickly press to decline the call, and stow the phone back in my bag.
Dan returns with a pint in one hand and a bag of peanuts in the other.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ He waves the bag in the air. ‘It’s this winter weather, gives me a ferocious appetite.’ He laughs and bites the corner off the packet as he sits opposite me.
‘Sure, go ahead.’ I finish the last of my wine.
‘So how are you?’ He offers me the packet and I shake my head.
‘Good thanks,’ I say, being polite. I don’t want to bother him with my stuff. ‘And you?’
‘Yeah, not bad,’ he mutters, before glancing away.
‘You sure? You seem a bit preoccupied,’ I prompt.
‘Well, there is something … ’ He hesitates. ‘Err, something I need to talk to you about.’ He finishes the peanuts and squashes the bag up into a tiny ball.
‘OK. Me too.’
‘You first,’ he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the table in between us, and suddenly I feel panicky. What am I doing? There are plenty of women who would love to date Dan. He’s such a nice guy, and I had a wonderful time on our date. It was romantic. And fun. And I felt happy. OK, not happy in a thrilling way, happy like I was with Tom, but content, and comfortable. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe I should forget about Tom, once and for all. If he is planning on getting rid of Carrington’s, then maybe it’s for the best, to draw a proper line underneath this part of my life and move on.
‘It’s nothing really. It’ll keep … you go first,’ I grin, and he takes a mouthful of his drink.
‘If you’re sure,’ he says, and I nod for him to continue. ‘OK.’ He inhales before letting out a big breath. He leans towards me. He hesitates as if it’s hard for him to say the words. ‘My ex-girlfriend is pregnant!’ A short silence follows. He downs the rest of his drink in one.
‘Great,’ I say, unsure of how to react.
‘The baby’s mine, apparently.’ He pushes a hand through his hair.
‘Well congratulations, that’s brilliant news,’ I say hesitantly; he doesn’t look overly happy. His shoulders have dropped and his left knee is pumping up and down like a piston.
‘Err … this is a good thing, right? You’re going to be a dad,’ I say, searching his eyes for confirmation.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Hey, it’s fine. Honestly. We had fun, but I totally understand if you want to be with her. This is huge news. Amazing,’ I say, feeling a bit relieved, the decision having been made for me. But there’s something else too …
‘Do you mind if we go? I need some fresh air.’ He stands up.
‘Sure. Of course,’ I say, grabbing my coat and racing after him as he strides off towards the door.
Outside, and I manage to catch up with Dan near the end of the road. His security man is close behind me. I touch Dan’s sleeve and he stops walking.
‘Dan, what is it?’ I ask, pulling on my woolly gloves. It’s dark, but he looks totally crushed in the glow from the streetlight we’re standing underneath. The security guy hangs back to give us some privacy.
‘Oh Georgie, it’s such a mess.’
‘Tell me,’ I say softly, and he hesitates before clearing his throat.
‘Chloe, my ex, got married.’
‘OK,’ I say, thinking that was quick. I remember him telling me they split up in the summer.
‘Last Saturday at the register office,’ he adds, as if reading my mind. ‘And her new husband is the guy she was seeing behind my back.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘And they felt it only fair to let me know that I’m the father. Even though her husband is going to bring the baby up as his own, Chloe said.’ I slip my hand in his and give it a gentle squeeze of solidarity. He stares at the pavement and I wish there was something I could do to help him.
‘But what about you? What do you want?’
How could they do this? Cut him out. Surely Dan has a right to be happy too? A baby is a gift, and he should be elated, but instead he looks crushed, as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I feel so sorry for him. Especially at Christmas time – it just makes it a whole lot worse somehow. It’s supposed to be a happy time, a joyous time.
‘To be a proper dad.’
‘Of course you’ll be a proper dad. You’ll be fantastic.’
‘Well, on paper perhaps – that’s if she even puts my name on the birth certificate, but then knowing Chloe she probably will, she’ll want money from me, which is fine of course, I’ll gladly provide for my child … ’ His voice trails off. Silence follows. I take a step closer to Dan and he leans forward. We put our arms around each other and hug tightly. Neither of us speaks. I turn my face to his and he looks into my eyes. ‘I’m going to need to be on my own … to get my head around it all and work out what to do,’ he says quietly.
‘I know.’ I put a gloved finger on his lips. ‘No need to explain. But just shout if you ever want to talk.’
‘Thank you. And you take care. You’re amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.’
‘Hey, everything will be OK. It will, I promise. One day from now, you’ll look back and see … ’ I kiss his cheek and close my eyes to shield them from the bright headlights of a taxi as it pulls up close to the pavement opposite. Dan reciprocates with a kiss on my lips before giving me a hug.
We pull apart on hearing voices from a group of men crossing the road towards the wine bar. I glance around Dan’s shoulder in their direction and one of the guys looks back. And then I see him. I blink to be sure. And it’s definitely him. There’s no mistaking the dark curls and gorgeously athletic physique.
Oh my God. I don’t believe it.
My stomach flips involuntarily. My pulse races. I feel dizzy.
It’s Tom!
I hold my breath for what feels like forever. Stunned. Everything flicks into slow motion. I can’t move. He sees me. He stops walking. And for a glimmer of a second our eyes meet. I don’t know what to do. Instinctively, I want to go after him. Talk to him. Be close to him. Touch him. But he just nods to acknowledge me before turning away, pushing his hands inside his coat pockets and following the others into the wine bar.
I drop my arms away from Dan and will myself to get it together. My whole body feels as if it’s on fire. My mind is racing. My hands are tingling. Tom is back. He’s right here. In Mulberry-On-Sea. Yet it’s as if he’s even further away from me than ever before.
‘Hey, what is it?’ Dan leans back and lifts my chin. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
I pull my coat in tighter as the intense surge of adrenalin ebbs away, leaving me feeling drained and panicky. My heart is hammering so fast, it’s actually making my chest hurt. I inhale hard and exhale slowly, over and over to calm my breathing, until eventually I’m able to speak.
‘Someone I thought I knew,’ I manage, still reeling from the intensity of the extremely close encounter.
24
Last shopping day before Christmas
The twenty-fourth of December. It’s Christmas Eve and the day of the wrap party has finally arrived. I’m with Sam in Millie’s room, 107, in the Mulberry Grand Hotel. The party is in the ballroom downstairs and the dress code is ‘glamour’. I’ve chosen a gorgeous blush pink chiffon skater dress with a crimson faux fur stole teamed with a pair of nude Loubs.
‘Ooh, very Christmassy. I love the colour,’ says Sam, ru
nning a finger over the fur. She’s wearing a floor-sweeping gold-beaded goddess dress, and Millie has managed to tease her curls into a sophisticated up-do. She looks absolutely stunning.
‘Thank you, hun. And wow, look at you,’ I say as she manoeuvres into position on the stool in front of the mirror, taking care not to crush the dress. Millie is doing our make-up, and Sam is going first.
‘So, have you decided on an eye shadow?’ Millie asks, sweeping a protective plastic cape around Sam’s shoulders before selecting two palettes from an enormous three-tiered make-up case.
‘Hmm, the shimmery gold I think, what do you reckon Georgie?’
‘I reckon you could wear any colour and look incredible, you always do,’ I say, keen to boost her mood. She’s not been around much all week, and when I spoke to her on the phone yesterday, she seemed really distracted. Vague. As if her mind was elsewhere. I’m worried about her as she’s normally so upbeat.
I hand them each a glass of champagne.
‘Thanks.’ Sam smiles at me in the mirror and I can’t help noticing how tired she looks. I make a mental note to chat to Nathan later, to see if there’s anything I can do. When I tried talking to Sam in the taxi on the way here, she waved a hand in the air and said everything was fine and that I worry too much. But I’m not convinced. ‘And thank you, Millie,’ Sam adds, and the three of us chink flutes.
‘A pleasure. I love doing make-up; and besides, it means I can avoid the boss for a little longer.’ She swallows a mouthful of her drink and rolls her eyes.
‘Is she that bad then?’ I ask.
‘Oh, Kelly is OK really, we’ve worked together for years now, but Zara – well, she’s the obnoxious one.’ Millie shakes her head and downs the rest of her champagne. Sam gives me a look. ‘What is it?’ Millie asks, looking at me first, then Sam.
‘Oh it’s nothing,’ I quickly say.
‘It’s not nothing. She stole Georgie’s boyfriend,’ Sam says indignantly.
‘She didn’t exactly steal him,’ I jump in. ‘He, well, he just got back with her after we split up … they have history.’
Christmas at Carrington’s Page 22