by Julie Caplin
Chapter 32
‘This is a great spot,’ said Dave, Avril’s production manager, opening up a big black box on the middle tier balcony hanging over the main atrium of Hjem, one of a series of five on either side of the store. ‘From here people can see us doing interviews and we can get bird’s eye shots. It’ll look great on camera … not that this place could fail to do otherwise. Thanks for the coffee and Danish.’
‘No problem,’ I said. He’d been my last delivery of the morning and I needed to get back to help Eva. Tonight was the official opening of Hjem and there was still a lot to do. Sophie, Eva and I had started at six this morning and we’d made a good start.
Since Ben’s visit seven days ago, I’d felt bruised by the encounter and I didn’t seem to be able to shake off the overwhelming sense of sadness even though in the last few weeks I’d enjoyed myself more than I’d ever done in my working life. When I was busy I was OK but every night I lay wide-eyed, sleepless, staring into the dark replaying his words. Because that’s the sort of man I am.
During the day I could take my mind off him focusing on seeing Hjem taking shape as all sorts of gorgeous products filled the shelves. There was a light, bright atmosphere in the store echoed in the colourful polo shirts the staff all wore after Lars agreed that perhaps some things had to stay British. He’d compromised by outfitting them all in egalitarian Hjem branded polo shirts in lovely shades of blues, greens and purples from, cobalt, teal, kingfisher blues through to mint, sage, pea and lime greens and lilac, deep and pale purples. The effect was stylish and thoroughly Danish.
Tomorrow the first of Avril’s broadcasts would take place and the place buzzed with the seemingly huge crew required to make it happen.
‘Anything else you need?’ I asked as Dave shook his head, already busy with grey gaffer tape and various bits of electrical kit.
I left him to it picking my way carefully back through the trail of electrical cables that snaked their way across the floor and wandered down through the store, past the home department, already full of lots of gorgeous things, pretty china, stylish kitchen accessories and even designer tea towels, as well as an area set up for cookery demonstrations in readiness for Sophie.
She’d been in several times to see Eva, practising and perfecting her pastry skills. Like an excited magpie, she’d run around the store cherry picking bowls, spoons, rolling pins and plates from the shelves to make her TV cookery set look beautiful.
Fiona had come in last week and she’d photographed every last inch of the place and I’d helped Lars use her pictures to run a teaser campaign on Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and Facebook, which was creating a definite buzz across social media.
In fact, the campaign was going better than I could have imagined, yah boo sucks to Josh’s guerrilla balloon idea, although he was officially in charge of tonight’s event, but much of the publicity had been as a result of my work and Lars knew where the credit was due. David’s piece was due out today announcing tomorrow’s official opening and special gifts for the first hundred readers through the door.
‘Kate,’ Avril waved her hand in front of my face, when I came face to face with her at the bottom of the main escalator, ‘anyone in there?’
‘Sorry, miles away.’
‘I was asking about the dress code this evening.’
‘Smart. Don’t worry; you’ll still look more glamorous than anyone else here.’
‘I’m not worried about me, I was worried about you. It’s still your big night, even if that prat Joseph thinks it’s his, I hope you’re going to do yourself justice.’
‘Won’t this do,’ I glanced down at the sleeveless shift dress.
‘I think you should wear one of the Danish designers from the fourth floor,’ she announced and I realised that she’d already started propelling me that way.
‘I’m working,’ I protested.
‘No, your work will be done by then. Eva told me you’ve got a team of waitresses to serve and that the canapes will all be finished by six. So, it’s only right you should wear something from the Hjem collection. I’ve cleared it with Lars and he agrees. You need to represent the place properly. Not some M&S number.’
‘It’s Reiss,’ I said outraged and then realised I’d been had; Avril knew full well what the label in the back of my dress read.
‘I’ve seen exactly the outfit for you,’ said Avril with smug determination. ‘It could have been made for you.’
Part of me wanted to look my best tonight. Megan and Josh would be there and of course, Ben. Not that I wanted to look good for him. I wanted to look indifferent and so over him. I’d worked out exactly how I’d greet him. This time I’d be prepared. Friendly, impersonal and a bit too busy to speak to him.
Hi Ben, good to see you. Sorry, excuse me, must go and sort something out.
I’d even rehearsed it several times in the mirror in the bathroom at home, just to make sure that the words tripped off my tongue, with minor variations. My favourites so far were the slightly surprised, Hi Ben fancy seeing you here approach, the Hi Ben, the totally who are you again tone and the Hi Ben, totally sycophantic, false, groupie dismissal.
Before I knew it, Avril had steered me into the empty changing rooms with a pile of clothes that I never would have chosen for myself in a million years.
‘I thought you said you’d seen exactly the thing for me,’ I protested as she shoved me into one of the cubicles hanging up numerous outfits on the handy pegs inside.
‘I lied,’ she said blithely. ‘I knew you’d come up with a load of excuses.’
When I came out in the first thing, I found Eva sitting expectantly on a small chair she’d stolen from one of the displays. I raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
‘It’s fine. Sophie’s got everything under control. I’m taking a break.’
She and Avril each had a coffee and were clearly waiting for a modelling session.
‘No, not you at all,’ said Avril.
‘It’s not that bad,’ said Eva.
‘Yes, the length’s all wrong. Cuts her legs off and she’s got good legs.’
‘Ah, yes I see now. You’re right,’ agreed Eva before adding, ‘And the colour, drains away her natural complexion.’
‘I am here, you know.’ I attempted a petulant pout but with both of them sitting there like a pair of biased grannies, beaming benevolently, it was difficult to be irritated, even when they kept whispering together. They only wanted the best for me.
Eva smiled. ‘Go and put the next thing on. I brought you a coffee. It’s been a while.’ She winked.
I’d been running on coffee for the last few days and she kept nagging me to eat properly. Since Ben’s visit it had been hard work choking down an open sandwich each day.
I tried on another two outfits, a black trouser suit which made me look like a pall bearer - a unanimous no - and a beige asymmetric dress, although Avril insisted it was dusky pink. Luckily it hung off me, I’d dropped a few pounds, but I was grateful because I didn’t feel like me in it at all.
As soon as I slipped on the pale blue silky jump suit, I knew it was the one, the palazzo pants floated gracefully around my legs making them look an extra few inches longer and the top had a v neck at the front and the back with a little silver necklet. Pretty and feminine, it fitted perfectly and I loved it.
‘Yes. Yes. Yes,’ said Avril jumping up and circling me. ‘That is the one.’
‘You look lovely.’ Eva nodded, a gentle thoughtful smile on her face. ‘You’re going to be the belle of the ball.’
‘I don’t want to be the belle … Hjem is the focus. Everyone should be looking at the shop.’
Avril raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You do know Ben is coming tonight.’
I glared at her and slammed the cubicle door of the changing room shut.
After the lunch time rush we put a closed sign on the door and got down to serious work. I’d been allotted the task of cutting out rounds of dark moist sourdough rye bre
ad with a pastry cutter, while Sophie spooned out a mixture of herring, red onion and dill onto them. Eva sliced smoked salmon and cut tiny wedges of lemon to arrange on onion bread and the smell of cooking wafted from the oven where tiny red peppers stuffed with Jarlsberg were being baked. Slices of pumpernickel bread were lined up on a tray awaiting a topping of ham and tart mustard and a dish of sliced cucumber had been pre-prepared for a topping of crab meat, mayonnaise, chives and lemon juice.
I was absorbed in the job when I heard imperious rapping at the closed door. We all looked up. Ben was outside. Both Sophie and Eva looked at me.
‘What?’ I asked. Neither of them stopped what they were doing and both ducked their heads.
I huffed out a sigh and marched over to the door and yanked it open.
‘This is the article I wrote and submitted to the paper.’ The weary tone in his voice echoed the disappointment in his eyes as he shoved two pieces of paper towards me.
Before I could say a word, he marched off.
I slammed the door. Men. What the hell was he playing at now?
I glanced down at the paper.
Hygge or Hype? – Happiness or Hokum.
When I was invited on a press trip to Copenhagen to find out more about the Danish concept of hygge and what makes the country one of the happiest in the world, I freely admit that I was deeply sceptical. As far as I was concerned it was all about candles and cashmere blankets, and most likely a cynical attempt by marketers to emulate a deep seated cultural psyche that simply doesn’t translate to the British way of life. A cultural chasm that can’t be bridged with cosy and convivial.
Instead what I found was a way of life that embraces the cosy, a society where the concept of social homogeneity is culturally ingrained, making its citizens feel equal with everyone and for that reason happy to pay the higher taxes to support everyone in education and for their health.
I saw a society where people take simple enjoyment in coming together to share and not judge, with an unconscious focus on taking special time to celebrate simple things. I discovered hygge, where making a celebration of a rainy day, prioritising to be with your special people and emphasising on togetherness, all add up to a happier way of life.
And yes candles and cashmere blankets have their place, which is why the new Danish department store, Hjem, Danish for home, might just be something to celebrate …
My eyes blurred and I couldn’t read any more. I looked down the street as my breath hitched in an involuntary half-sob but Ben was long gone. I closed my eyes, a tear seeping out as the bottom dropped out of my stomach. Nausea, disgust and shame rose up. I’d never even given him a chance to explain. No wonder he felt used. No wonder he was angry.
Slumping against the door, I slid down the glass to the floor and clasped my knees tight to myself as if I might contain the painful explosion of regret that overwhelmed me, raining down in waves of despair. When Eva put her arms around me I let the sobs break free, tears pouring down my face, inhaling her subtle floral perfume and collapsing into her soft hug.
Chapter 33
After Eva and Sophie mopped up my tears, plied me with slices of cucumber in an attempt to reduce the puffiness around my eyes, we got back to work. They kept shooting sidelong glances at me, even though I was at pains to tell them I was fine. Luckily we were far too busy for me to brood.
The day raced by and suddenly everything was done, the waiters and waitresses turned up and transported all the canapes next door and guests started arriving, being greeted by the Hjem staff in their brightly coloured shirts with glasses of Prosecco and red berries. For the more adventurous, Danish Schnapps in traditional short stemmed glasses was also on offer, although it was less popular than the fizz.
‘Oh my, it’s so nice being a grown up for a change,’ said Connie, waving her glass at me and giving me a hug with her other hand. ‘Free Prosecco on tap, I think I might have died and gone to heaven. Maybe I should a get job like this.’
‘What and forgo learning journeys, glue sticks and glitter?’ I teased squeezing her back. ‘I’m so glad you could make it.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed this,’ she lifted her glass up. ‘This is amazing. I love it. Not that I could probably afford to shop here.’
‘Staff discount.’
‘And that’s why I love you, right there.’ Excitement glittered in her eyes. ‘And I’ve got some amazing news. You’ll never guess … Brandon’s been offered a job. Today. A proper job.’
‘What do you mean? A proper job?’ He could do the job at the breaker’s yard standing on his head and juggling knives with his feet, but he got a pay packet from it, so that constituted a proper job in my book.
‘Pinewood Studios!’
‘What?’
‘Pinewood Studios. They saw the newspaper piece yesterday. Remember that guy that Brandon thought might buy the Sith thingy. Well he didn’t, he wanted to interview him for a piece in the paper. Went down and did the interview last Thursday. A bloke from Pinewood phoned Brandon yesterday. Invited him to go see them this morning. Offered him a job on the spot.’
I was having trouble keeping up. ‘What newspaper piece?’
‘You didn’t see it?’ Her face crumpled in confusion. ‘But … I thought you must have set it up. With your contacts? How else would anyone know about Brandon’s models?’
‘When was this?’
‘Here,’ she delved into her bag for her phone and brought up a webpage.
I scanned the page quickly. There was an interview with Brandon and then a whole piece about how important modelling was these days in the world of film with the increased use of CGI. The piece included a photo of Brandon with his Sith thingy and quite a few of his detailed drawings and plans for other items he’d made. I looked at the webpage address.
‘Oh,’ I said faintly, a buzzing in my ears. The chatter in the room around me faded. My heart did a funny little bunny hop in my chest. ‘Did you see the guy that came to see Brandon?’
‘Yes, he was …’ she pulled what I’m sure she thought was a dramatic face, ‘smokin!’
‘Connie, the Jim Carrey routine got old last century.’ Impatience made me snippy with her.
‘Bet you’d have thought so, if you’d seen him.’
I’d already scrolled through a few pictures on my phone and found one. Ben on his bike outside the hotel as we dropped them off.
‘Recognise th-’
‘That’s him,’ squealed Connie in a guinea pig shriek, which had quite a few heads turning our way. ‘Who is he?’ She drew in a short breath and turned to me wide-eyed. ‘It’s him! Isn’t it? Mr Super Hottie.’
‘Ben,’ I said quietly, suddenly feeling adrift. Everything I thought I knew suddenly floated out of reach like a balloon inadvertently let go.
Ben had done this. Since he saw me last week. But before today. I felt like I was in the centre of a seesaw and one step either side would bring it crashing down. Good Ben. Bad Ben. Which one was real?
I frowned trying to make sense of the timelines. Ben had contacted Brandon after he’d seen me on Monday.
It didn’t make sense unless Brandon was purely just a story to him.
Or had he been trying to help?
I looked around the room anxiously scanning the faces. Connie had been one of the first to arrive, the crowd was still thin.
‘Is he coming tonight?’ Suddenly she was full of avid interest, her head snapping this way and that. ‘Is he here?’
‘He’s invited but I don’t know if he’ll come.’ I spotted Fiona arriving and greeting Sophie. ‘There’s Sophie and I’ll introduce you to some people. You’ll love them. They came on the trip with me.’
‘Oh goodie, I can find out more about super hottie.’
I sighed and linked my arm through hers to cross the floor. Of course, she knew Sophie already, but she hit it off straight away with Fiona, who seemed to have curbed some of her shyness. She was never going to be Miss Extrovert but she could now look s
omeone in the eye. A sudden rush of people arriving, lots of whom were journalists, demanded my attention, so I abandoned Connie with the two of them knowing they’d look after her.
Having a launch party is always nerve-racking, when things are free, people sometimes don’t turn up even when they say they will - they get a better offer, they’re knackered after a day at work or the night’s telly is more enticing. Wondering if and when Ben might turn up only added to my anxiety. I’d spent all day planning my avoidance tactics and now, suddenly I was desperate to see him.
I didn’t need to worry about the success of the evening, if it could be measured in crowd numbers, Hjem just hit capacity. The bottom floor was heaving and it was getting difficult to navigate your way through the crowd. I’d spotted David and Conrad arriving together and made my way over reaching them at the same time as Avril.
‘You look gorgeous, Kate.’ She tugged at the fabric of my outfit. ‘Very nice.’ Then she turned to David, with a calculating gleam in her eye. ‘You must come and meet my cousin Reece.’ She dragged him off leaving me to chat to Conrad who’d already attracted a number of other journalists. As we were making small talk I spotted Ben, no one else had that shade of burnished copper hair. My breath caught and I paused, my heart thumping as I tried to decide whether to go over to him or not. What would I say? Where would I start?
As I started to push my way through, a pudgy hand grabbed me.
‘Kate. Long time no see. Darling, how are you?’ Andrew Dawkins pulled me to him and placed a clammy kiss on either one of my cheeks.
I drew back as far as I could. ‘Andrew.’
He gave me a coy smile. ‘This is quite a set up. I’m impressed and I hear you left The Machin Agency.’
‘Yes,’ I said, my polite smile cool. ‘I’m working with Lars and his mother.’ Trust him to be up to date with the gossip. Why didn’t that surprise me?
‘I could do with an intro to young Lars; I’d like to do a deal with all his suppliers. The blanket people, the candle people, the glassware companies … especially at Christmas. Nice advertorial shopping feature.’