‘Hmm, so why are you selling then?’ I mutter under my breath, and the second the words come out of my mouth I shrivel inside. The mini microphone amplifies my voice around the ballroom. It ricochets off the walls. I can see myself, practically poster size, on the two giant screens. Now the floor feels as if it’s fallen away. My head is pounding. I want to run away and hide. Tom stops talking and glances at me with his forehead creased. There’s a collective gasp followed by an eerie silence. The whole crowd stands motionless, staring at me.
‘Cut! Cuut! Cuuut! Cuuuuut!’ Hannah shrieks, each time louder and more frenzied than the last. She looks as if she’s having an actual proper meltdown as she flaps the clipboard furiously, and gurns at Leo. Kelly practically dive-bombs in front of me, grips my elbow, turns me around and marches me down the stairs and through a side door into an anteroom that’s crammed full of KCTV production people who are staring at a long line of little TV monitors.
‘Out. Out. GET OUT,’ she hollers, flapping her hands at them as they throw off their headphones, grab their drinks and scurry towards the door. ‘Not you.’ She hoiks a cameraman back into the room. ‘Flick that back on and make sure you get the lot. This is TV gold,’ she hisses to him, her eyes glittering with the thrill of ending her live show with such an explosive bang.
Kelly strides into the middle of the room, closely followed by Tom, who slams the door behind him. It bounces on the frame before flinging back open. Sam appears and quickly runs towards me. ‘What do you want?’ Kelly shouts at her.
‘To even things up. Two versus one – not very fair, is it?’ Sam replies quickly, before flashing a panicky look at me, then back to Tom and Kelly.
‘Fair enough. Stand over there and be quiet,’ Kelly commands, pointing to a spot beside a wooden cabinet. Sam grabs my flowers, plonks them alongside hers on the cabinet, before standing in the designated spot and glaring at Kelly.
‘So, what the hell are you playing at?’ Kelly barks at me.
‘Well, I … erm, I’m sorry.’ I will my cheeks to stop burning as I bob from one foot to the other and try to avoid the camera that’s practically touching my face.
‘Sorry! Is that all you can say?’ Her eyes look as if they’re going to pop right out of her head. ‘I spend months preparing, researching and then filming to save Carrington’s for my dear friend, Isabella’s son … ’ Kelly pauses to glance at the camera, and then Tom, before flapping a hand around crazily and grabbing a chunk of her wild orange Ronald McDonald hair. ‘You destroy it all in a second and then say sorry.’ She flings both hands on her hips and leans forward to stare at me, goggle-eyed and speechless. And I can’t be sure if this is for real. Or is she acting up for the viewers at home?
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, feeling pathetic and wimpish. The door fly opens and Zara appears; she sashays in and stands proprietorially next to Tom. The camera guy swivels to get a close-up of her face before retreating to the corner. Hannah’s back, and flapping for us to stand closer to each other, presumably so they can get us all in shot.
‘Stop saying sorry, and stop that incessant bobbing – it’s getting on my nerves,’ Kelly snaps. I stop moving and fold my arms thinking, Bloody cheek. She’s the one ruining everything by buying the store so she can close us down and turn us into a hotel. ‘I want an explanation. A reason for your sudden ludicrous outburst – I mean, I guessed right from the start that you weren’t the full picnic, what with that stupid Beyoncé stunt you pulled.’ She lets out a dramatic puff of air.
‘Excuse me?’ I say indignantly, thinking, This is a turnaround. Not so long ago she wanted to make me a star. ‘You filmed me without even asking and then plastered it all over the telly, and the World Wide Web. Hardly a “stunt”,’ I say, trying to keep my voice even, but I’ve had enough of her parading me like some kind of show pony.
‘Oh stop bleating … honestly, you sound like a—’
‘OK. That’s enough.’ Tom jumps in, darting a look at Kelly before settling on me. ‘Let’s stick to the point here. What did you mean about “selling” the store?’
‘You tell me,’ I reply, not missing a beat, my stomach flipping as he stares me straight in the eye. God, he’s so gorgeous; even after everything I can’t stop fancying him. His chocolate brown eyes, nestling in those sumptuous eyelashes, his broad shoulders, the charisma, just his presence, being here in the same room with him, it’s madness … I wish so much that I could turn back time and start all over again. I bite my lip instead, and spot Nathan hovering in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. And he looks totally out of place in track bottoms and a washed out T-shirt. Sam beckons him in. What’s he doing here? But before I can figure it out, Tom is standing in front of me.
‘But I’m asking you,’ he replies, pushing a hand through his nicely dishevelled hair.
‘Well, you’re the one doing it. Ruining everything.’ I flash him a look and dig my nails into the palm of my hand to steady my nerves. ‘How could you?’ And to give him his due, he does look a bit baffled – probably all part of their cover-up. He just doesn’t want us all knowing that he’s no longer Mr Carrington. Oh no. Mr Sellout, more like. Well, they’re not getting one over me. I steel myself, figuring this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind by way of confronting him, but I might as well get on with it, now that it’s out in the open. LIVE to the whole country. Eeek!
‘Do what?’ he asks.
‘Oh, don’t pretend you know nothing about it. You’re in on it. Kelly too,’ I pause to point in her direction, ‘and Zara.’ I can barely manage to look at her. I drop my head and study the swirly pattern on the carpet instead.
‘Zara?’ Tom says, and she steps a little closer to him.
‘That’s right. Sam even saw her going through the plans with Princess Ameerah. Is she the buyer?’ I accuse.
‘Princess Ameerah?’ Tom repeats vaguely, like he has no idea what I’m talking about. But he’s not fooling me. Not again. Oh no.
‘I told you to leave it alone.’ Kelly steps in hastily, glaring at Zara. ‘I can’t believe you went behind my back. I said it wasn’t happening. I’d never do that to my friends.’
‘Don’t pretend. I overheard you talking about it, turning us into a hotel with underground parking,’ I say, studying Kelly’s face for clues. She blinks a few times before letting out a long measured breath and glancing directly into the camera.
‘Well, whatever you heard, you were mistaken.’ I shake my head in disbelief, barely able to comprehend her audacity. I know what I heard.
‘Look, will someone tell me what’s going on?’ Tom says. ‘Georgie, why would you say something like that? Why didn’t you just call me if something was bothering you?’ I lift my head to look him in the eye.
‘Are you for real?’ I murmur, desperately trying to keep up. I feel as if I’m in some kind of crazeee pantomime where everyone knows the lines except me.
‘Err, yes. I think so … ’ Unbelievable. Talk about flippant. I can’t believe I never even got a glimpse of this side to him. He obviously couldn’t care less about me, or Carrington’s for that matter.
‘I tried contacting you but you ignored my calls, messages and Facebook PMs. And then I get a horrible text.’ I cringe at the hideous shrillness in my voice.
‘A horrible text? What do you mean?’ He pulls his mobile from his pocket as if to prove me wrong, but I’m not stupid, he could have just deleted it. I flip open my clutch to retrieve my phone and then I remember – I am the stupid one, I deleted the hideous message, along with everything else that reminded me of him.
‘I mean the one where you told me to leave you alone. The one where you said you’d met someone else? The one where you called me a stalker,’ I state, practically shouting and desperately wishing that I didn’t sound so hysterical. They’re all staring at me. I glance at Zara and she looks edgy, pumped – relishing the showdown, no doubt.
‘I would never send you a text saying stuff like that, and what do you mean calls and messages? Y
es, I ignored one call from you – I was boarding an aeroplane with a steward glaring at me to switch the phone off. And I didn’t bother with Facebook while I was away – the Wi-Fi was practically unusable it was that slow on my iPad, and I was on and off flights, in different countries from one day to the next. And given the way things were left between us … ’ he adds, his Downton accent getting a little more pronounced.
‘Well if you didn’t send it, then who did?’ Maybe I’m going mad. I’ve finally lost the plot and, for some bizarre reason, an image of Dad pops up inside my head. He’s wringing his hands as four men in long white coats strap me to a gurney and whisk me off to a clinic.
‘I did!’
Whaaaat?
It’s Zara!
I turn to face her.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I was doing you a favour.’ Zara looks directly at Tom. ‘She was stalking you. Come on, seven messages in one evening with all those stupid little sad face emoticons! Who even does that?’ She laughs nastily. ‘And then trying to trap you by getting herself pregnant. Talk about desperate … ’ My cheeks burn. I fling my hands to my face and see that they’re trembling.
‘Pregnant?’ Tom says softly, his forehead creasing as he fixes his eyes on mine. And momentarily, it’s as if we’re the only ones in the room – apart from the camera that’s practically touching the side of my head, it’s that close up. I shake my head and mouth ‘no’, and I’m sure I spot a dart of disappointment flicker across his face. Tom clears his throat, keeping his eyes on Zara. ‘I thought we were friends?’ he says to her quietly, before addressing the room. ‘It was all very last-minute, the flight to Paris, and it wasn’t until I arrived that I realised I’d forgotten my phone. Zara kept it safe and brought it with her to … ’ His voice trails off when he realises that not only did she keep his phone safe, but she also used it to field my calls and send a choice message of her own, thereby ensuring I never contacted him again for fear of being deemed a stalker. And I bet it was her who said he was busy, putting on a French accent. I open my mouth but the words won’t come out. I swallow and bite down hard on my bottom lip. So hard, I taste blood, metallic in my mouth.
‘Friends?’ It’s Sam. She moves close to me, and she’s fuming. Her eyes are flashing and her tiny frame is braced in a forward-attack position. ‘Oh purlease. Don’t be coy. And the rest,’ she huffs. ‘Engaged to be married more like … until the next fool comes along. Like Lawrence! Married with three children he is, that’s right.’ Sam points a finger in Zara’s direction and she scowls back. ‘She’s been having an affair behind your back with a married man. And to think I played Cupid for you with my best friend. Honestly Tom, I thought you were a far better judge of character. Anyway, it’s your loss. Georgie is worth a million of this spoilt, overindulged tramp.’ Sam crosses her arms and stares at Zara, who whips up her hand, but Sam is too quick for her and manages to bat it away before Zara strikes her face. Zara grabs hold of Sam’s dress and yanks her up close. Instinctively, I reach out a hand to pull Sam back, but I’m too late.
‘Oh bore off. You hideous little troll,’ Zara hisses into Sam’s face. ‘No wonder your baby died, probably couldn’t stand being inside you.’ There’s a collective gasp. Nathan and I immediately step towards Zara. My hand actually comes up to slap her – how dare she hurt my best friend like this? – but it’s Kelly who grabs Zara from behind and drags her away.
‘That’s enough! It shames me to say this, but you’ve always been an obnoxious madam. And now you really have crossed the line. You need to apologise.’ Kelly tightens her grip on Zara’s shoulders.
‘She started it,’ Zara retorts like a sulky teenager, shrugging herself free.
‘Apologise godammit!’ A loaded silence hangs in the air. ‘Just bloody do it,’ Kelly screams, her face turning a violent rhubarb-red.
‘Jeez, can’t anyone take a joke around here? I’m sorry. OK?’ Zara says reluctantly, rolling her eyes and flicking her hair.
‘Look, please. Can we all just calm down?’ Tom looks around the room. ‘Sam, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’ he asks quietly and politely. Sam waves a dismissive hand in his direction before leaning into Nathan. I touch her arm and she mouths ‘thank you’ at me. I nod my head in solidarity.
‘I have no idea what is going on here, but can someone please tell me?’ Tom looks around the room, waiting for one of us to speak. Zara’s bee-sting lips are pursed tight.
‘Oh for goodness’ sakes. I hold my hands up – shoot me why don’t you? It’s only a tacky little shop, for crying out loud. Ameerah and I go way back. Boarding school. Anyway, she’s been on the lookout for a project, so I gave her the nod on Carrington’s. Perfect location, not far from the marina – only bit of glamour in this twee town, I might add. So why not rip it out and turn it into a hotel? Simple. And Mummy wasn’t interested in coming in on the deal, so you can leave her out of it. Serves you right, Tom.’ There’s a stunned silence. We all stare at Zara. What’s she going on about? Hardly the actions of a loving fiancée …
‘But why would you do that?’ Tom asks, his jaw tightening.
‘Why not?’ Her eyes flash around the room before landing on me. ‘But it doesn’t matter now, Ameerah didn’t win the auction,’ she shrugs nonchalantly, and I really have to resist the urge to punch her now ugly-looking pinched face.
‘And what about my phone? Why would you deliberately hurt Georgie?’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to just stand by and let you ruin your life by settling for … her!’ she screeches in my direction, ‘a ridiculous shop girl!’ She jabs a heavily jewelled finger in my direction. ‘Not when you can do so much better.’ She tosses her hair around for a bit, daring any of us to disagree that she is, in fact, the ‘better’ option. I hold my breath.
‘Yes.’ Tom steps forward. My heart misses a beat. My palms are drenched in sweat. I discreetly wipe them across the back of my clutch. The room sways. It’s as if time has stood still. Suspended. ‘You’re absolutely right, Zara. I can do better … than you!’ I gasp. ‘I told you in New York that I wasn’t interested; I suppose this is your way of paying me back – by trying to destroy everything that’s important to me. And why would they think you’re my fiancée?’ He gestures towards Sam and me.
‘Yes Zara?’ Sam says pointedly, as Hannah steers the cameraman into place.
‘Fine. You’re obviously more stupid than you look. I saw you sneaking around behind that shoji screen in the restaurant, so, well … I thought I’d toss you a scrap to gnaw on with your pathetic little friend.’ She gives me an up-and-down look. I don’t believe it. So Tom isn’t engaged at all. Zara made it up!
Tom is right next to me now. He touches my arm, sending a surge of electricity to circuit my body.
‘I think we need to talk,’ he says, his eyes still flashing as Zara storms from the room.
‘So you haven’t sold Carrington’s?’ is all I manage to say, but I have to be sure. He shakes his head and his eyes soften.
‘No. It’s not mine to sell. Carrington’s leases the building. My great grandfather, Mr Carrington, aka Dirty Harry,’ he lifts his eyebrows, ‘sold the freehold years ago after he got into bother financially – frittered the profits on showgirls, apparently. He had no choice and had to raise funds to save the store. I know the freehold changed hands recently, though, because I was notified of the pending auction and put in a sealed bid right away, naturally, but without success. The board were told of the new freeholder’s details, care of their lawyer in London, but that’s all we know. I’m sure there’s no cause for alarm,’ he says casually. But I can’t believe he’s being so blasé about it all.
‘No cause for alarm?’ I repeat. They could pull the rug from under us at any time. Give notice and take back the building. What if the new freeholder has the same idea as Princess Ameerah and turns us into a hotel with underground parking? ‘Well it bothers me,’ I tell him firmly. ‘If Princess Ameerah didn’t buy it, then who did? We need to find out!’
Another silence follows.
‘I did.’
Whaaaat?
Oh my God. My pulse quickens. I can feel my legs wobbling as I attempt to try and cope with this rollercoaster of revelations. My mouth falls open. I quickly close it. What is she talking about? Oh my actual God.
Sam steps forward, wiping tears away with the back of her hand.
‘Yep. That’s right.’ She pauses and our eyes meet. ‘Sorry I didn’t say,’ she mouths in my direction, and gives me a watery smile. Tom’s jaw actually drops.
‘But how? When?’ I ask, in a daze.
Kelly whips open the door so the cameraman can capture the deafening applause that’s coming from the ballroom. The whole of Carrington’s is watching us on the big screens. They must have continued filming in there too – I can see Mrs Grace on the row of monitors, with her hand over her face. She’s clearly in shock. Melissa is on screen now, chest-bumping Mick, the security guard and shouting, ‘Yo, go Sam.’
Annie is up on some guy’s shoulders bellowing, ‘Sam, I love you babe,’ and sloshing a cocktail in the air.
‘So you were the mystery bidder who came in at the last hour,’ Tom interjects, shaking his head with an incredulous look on his face.
‘That’s right. And I’m sorry, Tom, we didn’t know you were the other bidder.’ Sam looks apologetically at Tom. ‘As you know, Alfie Palmer, owner of Palmer Estate Agents and, more importantly, my wonderful Dad, passed away at the start of the year and left his fortune and his business to me. So, after overhearing Zara talking about a hotel on the Carrington’s site, I asked the managing director of Palmers to find out what was going on. Then, when Mandy from the town hall told me about the enquiry, and after a bit of delving with the help and expertise of my brilliantly clever legal advisor, aka my husband, Nathan,’ Sam pauses, ‘we came up with a way to save Carrington’s.’
Christmas at Carrington’s Page 24