Cupcakes and Christmas: The Carrington’s Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr. Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s

by Alexandra Brown

  I’m back at the entrance to the ballroom with a glass of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other. I take a bite and wish I hadn’t, before surreptitiously depositing it in a pot containing a miniature Christmas tree with silver frosting. Zara is standing beside the luge looking stunning in a sheer Stella McCartney dress that clings to her perfect siren figure. She shakes her glossy mane around for a bit while I scan the room and tentatively pat my high bun, wondering where Tom is; expecting him to be beside her, but I can’t see him.

  ‘He’s over there,’ Sam whispers in my ear and points discreetly in the other direction. And then I spot him. He’s wearing a midnight blue tuxedo, the crisp white shirt complementing a perfect, caramel-coloured tan. His curly black hair is a little longer than before, gelled back, making him look just like a gorgeous Hollywood star; after everything that’s happened, my heart still flutters and my pulse quickens. He looks so charismatic and charming – the perfect, quintessential, tall dark handsome man. A group of girls are hovering around him, laughing and flicking their hair. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Sam says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, Zara on one side of the room and Tom on the other, and I’m not sure I’d like it if Nathan was surrounded by a group of flirty girls.’ I ponder on what Sam has said, and I suppose it is a bit strange, but before I can analyse further, the music stops and Kelly is up on the stage with a spotlight on her, and oh my God, she’s calling out my name. My cheeks burn and my heart pumps into overdrive. I quickly finish my drink and turn to leave but a camera is blocking my exit.

  ‘Georgie. Where are you?’ Kelly booms into a microphone, and suddenly there’s a spotlight beaming down on me and the music peters out. ‘Come on now, no need to be camera shy, not after your earlier performance … which was spectacular, by the way.’ A round of applause circuits the room. ‘Bring your friend, then we can thank you both properly,’ she finishes, before grabbing two giant bouquets from a production assistant who’s standing just offstage.

  Everyone, except Zara, is clapping as we reluctantly make our way towards the stage. I’m willing my cheeks to stop flaming. I catch Tom’s eye in my peripheral vision and I swear a fleeting look of amusement hovers on his face before he turns back to charm the groupies. Grrreat! So now he thinks I’m a ridiculous novelty act as well as a stalker.

  ‘I’m right behind you,’ Sam says, grabbing my hand. We make it to the stage and are shooed up the steps by Hannah, clutching a clipboard and doing her manic smile.

  ‘Stand on the cross,’ she hisses after me, and as if on autopilot I do as I’m told. Sam is next to me.

  ‘Ho ho ho … ’ Kelly nudges me and winks, laughing as if it’s the most hilarious joke she’s ever told in her entire life. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the star of Kelly Cooper Come Instore.’ She grabs my hand and flings it up in the air. A camera zooms in. ‘And her friend, err … ’

  ‘Sam,’ I quickly prompt, leaning into Kelly’s microphone. I can’t believe she forgot Sam’s name, especially after the whole One Born Every Minute request, but Sam smiles graciously and does a little curtsy to the Carrington’s crowd before flinging her arms around my neck and giving me a squeeze.

  ‘Just smile,’ she whispers reassuringly in my ear before we break apart. Leo darts across the stage to swiftly pin miniature microphones onto our dresses.

  ‘Speech. Speech,’ Kelly says, clapping again, and the crowd starts chanting my name. Saliva drains from my mouth as I look around – Mrs Grace is standing in front of the stage wearing a sparkly fascinator and clapping her bony hands high above her head. Annie is next to her looking gorgeous in an emerald green playsuit. She looks really happy as she leans back against the chest of an incredibly fit-looking, muscly guy. He has a curly wire hanging from his ear and Will is standing behind him – Security! Must be.

  I swallow hard and try to think of something sensible to say.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mutter, dropping my chin to talk directly into the microphone. ‘And, err … Happy Christmas everyone,’ I add, breathing a sigh of relief, and then promptly ruin it by doing a ridiculously feeble little wave. I look back up and see Zara in my peripheral vision. She’s staring me out. I shudder. What is her problem?

  ‘Bravo. Simple and understated,’ Kelly says, kissing my cheek. ‘And how about a word from our other star, Mr Carrington himself.’ She scans the crowd. ‘Ahh, there you are.’ She points at Tom. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Toooom Carrington. Whoop whoop!’ With both hands, Kelly pummels an imaginary punchbag high above her head.

  What’s she doing? Oh my actual God. Tom is coming towards the stage. He’s mounting the steps. He’s within touching distance. He’s got the irresistible smile in place. His arm brushes against my back as he walks past, making my stomach flip and my cheeks flame. I dart a look at Zara and her eyes narrow.

  ‘A few words, if you don’t mind, Tom. Tell our audience at home a little more about your adventures in Paris, New York and the Christmas capital of the world, Lapland,’ Kelly swoons, nuzzling into him. Tom coughs discreetly and waits for Leo to fit a microphone onto his lapel. Sam edges closer to me and I just know she’s thinking the same – yes, why don’t you tell us aaaalll about it, Tom? NOT!

  He takes a step forward. Oh God. This is hideous. I’m going to have to stand here in front of all the Carrington’s staff, and the viewers at home, and listen to the man I thought was my perfect one go on about the fabulous time he had with other women. And what if he starts on about Zara – talks about their wedding plans, and all that?

  ‘Firstly, I’d like everyone to raise their glasses and join me in congratulating Kelly on producing such a fantastic programme.’ He pauses to allow a resounding, ‘hear hear!’ from everyone. Mrs Grace is even high-fiving the air and whooping, she’s that thrilled. ‘But most of all, I’d like to thank all of you. The wonderful Carrington’s team that make our department store such a fantastic place to shop. And with the new pet spa, the ice rink and the refurbished personal shopping suite, not to mention all of the other changes that Kelly and her team have introduced – well, I’m thrilled to say that our latest figures are looking extremely healthy indeed. I think we may have managed to turn things around—’

  ‘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? Yes, 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.