‘We won’t come in,’ Eddie whispers, handing me a massive cellophane-wrapped wicker hamper crammed full of luxury lotions and potions – bubble bath, sugar scrub, exfoliator, scented candles … ‘We just wanted to bring this, for when she feels a bit brighter.’
‘Oh Ed, thank you, that’s really kind,’ I say, stepping outside and pulling the front door to behind me. Ciaran leans across Eddie and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
‘And this is for Nathan,’ he says, in his lovely Irish accent. He hands me a small package. ‘It’s a CD, a playlist of songs by artists that I know he likes – I think I’ve managed to remember most of them from that night in Italy after their wedding, when we all sat around the pool, chatting and laughing about our favourite things.’ He smiles wryly.
‘In happier times,’ Eddie says, giving my arm a squeeze. ‘Oh, it’s just too sad for words, especially with Christmas so near.’ He shakes his head.
‘Bad things can happen at Christmas time too,’ Ciaran says softly, before adding, ‘but the happy moments will come again. Now just wasn’t the right time.’
After saying goodbye, I put the gifts on the hall table and make my way into the kitchen, figuring it best to give Sam and Nathan some time alone. I know they’ll get through this, and probably go on to have a trillion babies, but for now it’s as if their whole world has shattered beyond repair.
I make a pot of tea and settle on the sofa in the conservatory, which overlooks the beach leading down to the foaming sea – it’s high tide, and the waves are furious, rocking and rolling, back and forth over the pebbles. Mr Cheeks nestles in next to me, purring and kneading my thigh with his paws - I brought him with me, rather than leave him in the flat alone, as I wasn’t sure how long Sam would want me to stay. I pour the tea and think of everything that’s happened recently. Sam and Nathan’s heartache has really put things into perspective – at the end of day we all just want to be happy, to have our very own version of ‘happy-ever-after’. And that includes Dad. And Tom too, even if it isn’t with me. But I just wish Dad hadn’t betrayed Mum. I feel so torn. I really like Nancy, she’s cosy and warm and, dare I say it, mumsy, and it’s true – I’ve missed having a mother-figure in my life, which just adds to my feelings of guilt over my loyalty to Mum. And knowing Nancy was complicit in deceiving Mum when she was ill and vulnerable just makes this situation so much harder to work out as I try to accept it. And part of me wants to accept it. I love Dad and I don’t want there to be any barriers between us; there’s been too much of that in the past.
So I spoke to Dad yesterday and, after I’d apologised for running out, not even giving him a chance to explain, he apologised too, and then told me all about it. Seems that all those years ago, Dad was struggling to come to terms with Mum’s illness, petrified of losing her, but instead of talking (he didn’t want to burden her), he sought solace in his gambling. Nancy had worked in the local bookie’s at the time, and she had seen straight away how sad Dad looked, and tried to help him, discouraging him from throwing his money away, chatting instead, which eventually turned into evenings in the pub or a meal in a restaurant when Bob was on night duty. Dad says they talked mostly about Mum and me and Nancy’s sorrow over the death of her daughter, Natalie, in a motorbike accident aged only seventeen. The pretty girl with the auburn hair. Dad says it was a distraction from what was happening at home, and the hospital visits, and he swears nothing physical happened until he came out of prison – Mum had died and Nancy was finding it hard going with Bob, seeing as he had assumed back then that she was having a full-blown affair and had promptly launched the revenge campaign against Dad. And of course, the rest is history, as they say.
I take a mouthful of tea and send Dad a text message:
Let’s meet up soon. I love you and please say hello to Nancy for me.
I insert a heart icon and some kisses before pressing send. It’s the best I can manage at the moment. Mum’s gone, I know that, but with everything else that’s going on, I can’t even contemplate building a brilliant relationship with Nancy right now, not when my head is so crammed full of worry about Sam.
My phone vibrates to signify the arrival of a text.
i love you too very much and thank you it’s more than I dared to hope for dad xxx ps i hope sam is bearing up please give her my love too xxx
Smiling, I finish the last of the tea – Dad hasn’t mastered punctuation yet, but he can do email now. I was thrilled to get a test message from him last Sunday, even if it was all in shouty capitals. Oh well, I’m just so glad to have him back in my life after all those years apart, and if it means he comes as a package with Nancy, then so be it. At least he’s found his happy-ever-after.
Nathan appears, looking tired and drawn. His blue eyes are sore and bloodshot, and his blond hair dishevelled.
‘There you are, thought you’d run away. And who could blame you with so much sadness in the house … ’ His voice trails off as he attempts a weak smile.
‘Sorry, I just thought I’d give you a bit of space. Are you OK? How’s Sam?’ I place the cup on the table and unfold my legs to stand up.
‘Please, don’t get up on my account.’ He waves a hand in my direction. ‘We’re fine – well, not fine exactly … but we will be, if you know what I mean.’ He sits down next to me.
‘Sure I do.’ I pat his arm gently. ‘No need to explain.’
‘Life is crap sometimes. Poor Sam. First Alfie and now this; it’s just so unfair,’ Nathan says, shaking his head.
‘But it will get better. Sam is resilient, she’ll get through this. She’s already starting to talk about the future, and that’s a good thing, yes?’ I say with as much conviction as I can muster.
‘I really hope so, Georgie. She was so very happy – we both were.’
‘And you will be again, I’m convinced of it.’ I smile encouragingly.
‘A family. It’s all she ever wanted.’ He stares at the floor.
‘And you,’ I state.
‘What do you mean?’ he says, looking back up and turning to face me.
‘Nathan, I’ve known Sam since we were schoolgirls, and she’s spent her whole life looking for someone like you. You are all she ever wanted too. I know she had a ton of … ’ I pause to quickly rack my brains; I can’t remember if Sam ever mentioned her legion of boyfriends before him, so I settle on ‘admirers.’ He nods proudly, so I reckon I’m on safe ground. ‘But at the end of the day, none of them were what she had been dreaming of. You two are perfect together.’
‘Thank you. I guess when you put it like that, it does make sense; at least we still have each other.’ And he leans across to give me a hug. I give his back a rub and notice how tense he is. They need a holiday – some time away, somewhere hot. Where they can grieve, and just be together in the sunshine, walk on the beach, lie in the sun. Warm weather always makes things seem better. I make a mental note to mention it another time. He sits back, dropping his arms away from me.
‘Remember she has you, and that counts for a lot. You make her happy. This is just nature’s way, for whatever reason, and one day you’ll look back and say, ahh, so that’s why it happened at that time. Most likely with several adorable blonde-haired and blue-eyed cherubs driving you bonkers.’
‘You truly are an amazing friend, Georgie. Thanks for being such a fantastic support, as always.’ Nathan grins.
‘Oh don’t be daft. It’s what we do. Which reminds me, there are some gifts on the hall table for you and Sam … from Eddie and Ciaran.’
20
I’m at home with Mr Cheeks keeping me company, and pondering on whether to torture myself by watching this week’s episode of Kelly Cooper Come Instore – not sure if I want to see Tom and Zara together, when the intercom on the outside door buzzes. I press to see who it is.
‘Only me, sweetcheeks! I come bearing gifts.’ It’s Eddie, and he’s waving a cake box up to the camera outside. I buzz to let him in and head into the kitchen for a bottle of buck’s fizz and
promptly realise, to my shame, that it’s the last one. I guess I have been putting it away recently. I vow to clean up my act and drink more tea instead. And cook proper food too while I’m at it – my fridge and freezer are crammed now with festive food bargains. I even got a whole smoked salmon the other day for a third of what they usually cost. With some blinis, crème fraîche and dill, it will make a lovely starter, and certainly a nice step up from last year’s prawn ring. I figured that Sam may not be up to hosting a full-on Christmas lunch this year, so I might as well get prepared to invite them all here instead – Sam, Nathan, Dad, Nancy; it’ll be a squeeze, but I’m sure they won’t mind.
I’ve just rinsed two flutes, when Eddie appears, out of breath, with the cake box balanced regally on an upturned palm and Pussy trotting along behind him – she’s wearing a festive red knitted polo-neck jumper with a white snowflake pattern on. Mr Cheeks takes one look at her before bolting through the cat flap. Eddie manages to drag himself up onto a stool by the breakfast bar while Pussy charges around my kitchen, sniffing and inspecting everything before settling at my feet.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ I laugh.
‘I’m utterly exhausted. Like properly actually knackered.’ He yawns dramatically. ‘It’s the wedding plans. Who knew romance could be sooo demanding?’
‘What do you mean? I thought KCTV were organising it all.’
‘They are, but for some unfathomable reason, I insisted on being consulted on all the minutiae, figuring this way they can’t mess it up or make me and Ciaran look ridic.’ He huffs. ‘So now I’ve got that totes whiny production girl, Hannah, in my ear all day long, banging on about canapés and suchlike. I said who cares, just feed them already!’ he adds, rolling his eyes and sounding like some kind of Hollywood A-list diva.
‘And what about the cowboys? And Liza Minnelli?’ I say, pouring him a generous measure of buck’s fizz, figuring from the state of him that he could sure do with it.
‘Oh Kel loves the cowboy idea, has got a troop or whatever they call them … ’ He pauses to ponder while I smile inwardly at how he’s quite obviously BFFs with Kelly now, if he’s being this familiar. ‘A herd, perhaps. Anyway, they’re coming in from the Nevada desert – she knows someone who knows someone who knows someone – so they’ll be turning up and looking hot. Yee-ha!’ He slaps his thigh, Doris Day-style. ‘Topless, natch. But between you and me, I’ve got an inkling that Kel wants to break into the American TV market; hence she’s putting on such an extravagant show. She’s just like a female Simon Cowell.’ And I swear his adulation of her intensifies. His eyes have gone all misty. ‘But sadly, Liza can’t make it,’ he purses his lips. ‘Other commitments, apparently.’
‘You mean KCTV actually asked her?’ I’m flabbergasted. ‘I thought you were joking.’
‘Oh no darling. Kel knows eeeeeveryone,’ he says, sweeping a palm through the air, but something’s not right, I can sense it. On the surface it’s as if he’s talking about his dream wedding, yet his eyes look sad which is unlike Eddie. It’s like he’s playing a part. Yes, he can be a bit queeny, but he’s not normally this OTT, not when it comes to serious things like weddings and stuff.
‘What’s up?’ I ask, figuring it best to cut to the chase.
‘What do you mean?’ he says, inspecting his nails.
‘Come on Eddie, how long have we been friends? I say, gently.
‘Years.’
‘Exactly. So I can tell when you’re putting on a brave face. It’s the wedding, isn’t it?’ I ask, secretly praying that Ciaran isn’t having second thoughts.
‘Weell,’ he starts. ‘OK. I hold my hands up … You were right.’ He crosses his arms. ‘It’s all the fluff.’
‘Fluff?’
‘Yes fluff. I got carried away and now I don’t know how to change it. Topless cowboys, who am I kidding? I mean, it’s just sooo not me.’ I manage to stifle a smile.
‘I’m sure if you talk to Kelly—’
‘I’ve tried. But it’s no use. I’m scared Georgie.’
‘Scared of what?’ I ask, gently.
‘That we’ll look like a circus act … ’ he replies, miserably.
‘Well then, I’ll talk to her. Or, if she won’t listen to me, then we’ll just contact the cowboys direct to explain,’ I say, feeling protective of my friend.
‘We can’t do that.’
‘Yes we can. Don’t worry. I’ll help you. We’ll scale it down somehow and get you the wedding of your dreams. I promise,’ I add boldly, inwardly hoping I can pull if off. First chance I get, I’ll have a word with Hannah and take it from there. I’m not letting my best friend dread his own wedding. I can’t let that happen, so I’m going to make damn sure I do everything I can to sort it out for him.
‘Thank you darling, it’s such a relief to have you on board.’ He gives me a kiss. ‘Now, let’s grab a muffin and plant ourselves in front of your box. I want to see my performance, if only to take my mind off the wedding,’ he says, perking up a bit.
Pondering on how I can best sort out their wedding, I follow Eddie into the lounge and assume my usual seat on the beanbag, gesturing for him to take the sofa as my guest. Eddie flips open the cake box and offers it to me. I gasp. Inside are two massive chocolate muffins slathered in twinkly white peaks of icing with cute miniature reindeers perched on top.
‘Well, it is nearly Christmas.’ Eddie hands a cake to me. I smile and bite into the delicious creamy mixture that ends up on my cheeks and the tip of my nose. ‘Mm-mmm, this is good.’
‘They’re from Sam’s café. I popped in on the off chance of seeing how she was, if she was back at work yet … ’ He stops to dip his finger in the icing and offers it to Pussy, who laps it up before licking her little lips in approval and nuzzling into him.
‘Yes, she seemed to be picking up a bit when I talked to her this morning. Was she there in the café when you called in?’ I ask, plucking a tissue from a box on the coffee table to wipe my face.
‘She sure was, but out back in the kitchen; said she doesn’t want to be around the customers yet, especially that pregnant Jenny from Greggs, the one who’s about to pop any day now. And who can blame her? I imagine it must feel as if everywhere she looks there are reminders – pregnant women, babies in prams. You can’t walk down the street without seeing children. And Sam is so sweet. Life can be so cruel sometimes.’ Eddie sighs and fiddles with Pussy’s collar.
‘How did she seem when you saw her?’ I ask because I’ve been really worried about her. She’s so quiet.
‘OK. She was baking – said it helps, that she finds it cathartic. Hence these beauts … she forced them on me.’ He grins before taking a huge bite of his muffin. ‘Mmm, exquisite,’ he manages, in between chewing. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nearly ten, why?’ I ask.
‘The show of course! Flick the TV on, petal.’ Eddie flaps a hand in my direction.
‘Oh, do we have to?’
‘Yes, we do … why wouldn’t we?’ He gives me a look.
‘You know very well why.’ I will my cheeks to stop flaming.
‘Toooom? Oh babycakes, you need to move on. I know he’s probably the hottest man on earth, after my Ciaran, of course, but it’s just not good for you hankering after a lost love. Anyway, I thought you had hooked up with that country singer.’
‘Well, yes, Dan and I are friends but—’
‘With benefits, saucy girl,’ Eddie quips, giving me a big wink, and not missing a beat.
‘Not exactly.’
‘Boring!’
‘Stop it. I’m not “hankering”, as you say, I err … just don’t want to see Zara strutting her stuff,’ I mutter into my muffin.
‘Good. Then let’s get on with the show.’ He grabs the remote control and hands it to me. ‘Face your demons, darling. You’re twice the woman she’ll ever be; besides, I don’t think she’s in this week’s episode. Or if she is, then she isn’t with Tom in New York.’
‘Really. How come?’
‘Well, how can she be? Didn’t you and Sam spot her in a restaurant, and then she was in my office slagging off her shaman, something about him being out of order after suggesting she try a Tantric massage to ease her stress.’
‘A what?’ I ask, wondering what she has to be stressed about. She’s getting engaged to Tom – hardly stressful; bliss, more like.
‘Oh does it really matter? Ignore her. She’s nobody. Kelly’s the dream-maker,’ he sniffs.
‘Eddie! You are so fickle … ’
‘Not at all, darling. It’s just business. Show business! Now, finish your cake and settle down.’
Doing as I’m told, I swallow the last of my drink and polish off my muffin as the funky ‘Working Nine To Five’ theme tune starts. I brace myself, just in case Zara and Tom appear on the screen actually kissing or something. KCTV could have kept back footage from a previous week to air tonight. They don’t necessarily show stuff in sequence as it happens. I haven’t actually seen them together yet, not properly, and even though I know in my head that he’s moved on, I’m not sure my heart truly accepts it.
‘Oooh, here we go.’ Eddie appears on the screen, he’s wearing tight black skating trousers and a sparkly silver top. He’s got a microphone in his left hand and he’s asking shoppers, aka the actors, if they’re having a good time on the Carrington’s ice rink. He even does a little twirl before skating over to the other side of the rink to talk to a girl in a swishy red velvet mini Santa dress.
‘Wow! Why didn’t you say that you’d been elevated to presenter?’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’ He beams, pushing the muffin aside and pulling Pussy onto his lap.
‘But what will Zara think? Isn’t that her job?’
‘Well not any more,’ he says in a singsong voice.
Next up is a shot of the cash office with Lauren, Doris and Suzanne being talked through some new computerised cashing-up process that Kelly wants them to adopt, while the voiceover guy does a spiel about how Carrington’s will reap the results once we’ve embraced the modern technological age. Cue a shot of Mrs Grace in her stockroom showing the viewers a selection of vintage gowns, still hanging in cellophane covers with the old-fashioned swirly 1950s Carrington’s logo on. Next on screen is James, escorting a customer through to the Personal Shopping suite, which by the looks of it has had a spectacular makeover – it’s now adorned in sumptuous swathes of velvet cascading from an enormous chandelier in the centre of the room. A decadent plum brocade chaise longue has replaced the old white circular sofa and a row of giant mani/pedi chairs have been installed along one wall so customers can be pampered as they peruse our A/W collection. There’s even a little elevated runway and a model is strutting up and down in an exquisite Oscar de la Renta embellished tulle dress. Since when did we stock Oscar de la Renta? Wow! But I can’t see any of our regular customers forking out over five thousand pounds for a dress, although I guess that’s the point – to attract the glamouratti from the marina and send the locals down to the superstore on the industrial estate instead. It makes me feel excited, but a bit sad, as if it’s the start of the end of an era. Kelly is certainly upping Carrington’s game. Next we’ll be selling Prada and being told what shade of lipstick we have to wear to work.
Cupcakes and Christmas: The Carrington’s Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr. Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s Page 51