Carrington's at Christmas

by Alexandra Brown

  ‘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.

  ‘Quick. Look, did you see that?’ Eddie bellows, making Pussy jump. She springs off his lap and dashes over to join me. I scoop her up and stroke her little furry head. She settles down, nuzzling her nose into the inside of my elbow.

  ‘What? I missed it.’

  ‘Zara. Right there, skating around in the background. It was definitely her – hmm, why didn’t she let us all know she was around for filming; not like her to be camera shy.’ I peer at the screen and there she is, all bouncy big hair and sparkly eyes. She’s breathtakingly beautiful. And she’s wearing a proper minuscule fuchsia satin skating leotard with white leather skates.

  ‘You’re right,’ I say, giving my hair extensions a quick bouff. ‘And what’s she doing?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s freaky whatever it is … it looks like some kind of weird solo dance, a sort of freeform expression thingy. Ew.’ Eddie winces. ‘And what’s with the flailing arms and the dying swan finale?’

  ‘Maybe it’s her Boléro impression,’ I offer, trying to be charitable. She looks ridiculous.

  ‘Weell, I think it’s weird that she’s even here in Mulberry-On-Sea.’ Eddie sniffs.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Why isn’t she with her “fiancé”?’ he says, making sarcastic quote signs with his fingers.

  ‘Oh I don’t know Ed, and to be honest I’d rather not think about it,’ I say, relaxing back into the beanbag.

  After the ad break, the voiceover guy is back and he’s talking about a reindeer safari and the birthplace of Santa and sourcing authentic Christmas goods for Carrington’s to stock next year. Now there’s a log cabin on the screen, with twinkly lights at the windows and steam coming from the chimney. It’s like something from a fairytale. We’re going inside now, and it’s enchanting, a real log fire in an enormous inglenook surround beside a sumptuously soft sheepskin rug. It’s the perfect setting for a romantic Christmas.

  ‘What’s this?’ I ask Eddie. He shrugs.

  ‘No idea. Kel hasn’t mentioned other locations. Looks divine though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It sure does. All Christmassy and magical,’ I say, finishing the last of my buck’s fizz.

  A giant wooden sleigh comes into focus, and it’s being pulled though a snow-laden forest by a pack of huskies with jingle bells on their harnesses. As the sleigh gathers speed, powdery fine snow whisks all around, giving us the illusion of being inside a giant snow globe. As the snow settles, a bubbling hot tub emerges on screen. My heart flutters. My cheeks flush. My thighs tingle. It’s Tom. And he’s topless, his beautifully honed chest glistening in the golden glow of a trillion flickering paper lanterns swaying in the night air. Steam pumps all around him as he leans back and reaches out a muscular arm to take a pewter jug from the deck. I bite my bottom lip, willing my whole body to stop burning with desire. It’s insane. Even though I know we’re over, I just can’t help myself. I’m consumed with lust. I make a mental note to call Dan first thing tomorrow morning; I can’t continue to go on dates with him when I still feel this way about another man. It’s just not right.

  ‘Cor! Scrub what I was saying earlier … he really is the hottest man on earth, and that’s the end of it! No wonder Kel had the good sense to get Mr Carrington on screen. Ratings will skyrocket to the moon and beyond after this delicious scene. And takings too! We’ll be beating a path into work every day once new customers work out where to find him. I can see it now: hordes of women – men too – bussing in to shop at Carrington’s in the hope of catching a glimpse of sexy Mr Carrington. And Security will have to up their game, that’s for sure. No more lounging around the delivery bay flirting with the Lingerie girls.’ Eddie can’t help himself; he’s leaning forward and practically salivating.

  ‘OK. I get the message,’ I say sulkily, wishing he wouldn’t keep on. I get it. I’m doomed! Sentenced to singledom for the rest of my life as, right now, there’s no way another man will ever come close to Tom. Eddie is right – Tom is pure perfection. ‘Zara is very lucky,’ I manage, magnanimously, stuffing the last of the muffin into my mouth.

  ‘I’ll say,’ Eddie starts, and then quickly stops when we see the rest of the shot. As the camera pans around, Valentina emerges, her perfect long legs sashaying across the deck before lowering her equally perfect body down into the bubbles. He wet hair splays back as she tilts her face up towards the moonlit sky while adjusting the halterneck of her bikini. ‘Sweet Jesus, is she getting naked?’ Eddie shouts.

  ‘Stop it!’ I snap, biting back tears.

  ‘Only joking dollface.’

  ‘Please, Eddie, will you just switch it off?’ I say, scanning the coffee table for the remote control. Eddie finds it hidden under a cushion and duly obliges.

  ‘Sorry sweetie. But I thought you were over him, you know, with you seeing the singer and getting involved in all the exciting magazine and PR stuff you’re doing now. Lots of distraction.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, I should be over him, but … ’

  ‘Oh, come here.’ Eddie jumps off the sofa and flings his arms around my neck, almost squeezing me to death in an enormous bear hug. ‘Listen.’ He pulls back to look at me.

  ‘What it is?’ I say, on seeing the mischievous look in his eye.

  ‘Weell, like I said before, something doesn’t add up … Don’t you think it’s weird that Zara isn’t with him?’

  ‘I guess so. But this could have been filmed ages ago. I can’t really keep up with it all any more … I didn’t even know Tom was in Lapland. And I thought he was supposed to be visiting all the big fashion houses sourcing new stock for Carrington’s to sell, not necking steaming big jugs of hot berry juice or whatever the voiceover guy said it was,’ I say in a quiet voice.

  ‘Hmm, well, I suppose Lapland is more Christmassy, and I know KCTV had to cancel Milan at the last minut
e – Prada got sniffy about opening their doors to TV cameras and there wasn’t time to organise anything with the other Italian design houses. But look on the bright side.’

  ‘Bright side?’ I ask, failing to see how the scene in front of me could possibly be classed as anything remotely positive as far as my love life is concerned.

  ‘That’s right. If you were Zara, would you be happy if your fiancé-to-be was cavorting in a hot tub with a goddess wearing just a grin – for all we know she could have discarded the bikini bottoms and be naked right now under that bubbly water. Maybe Tom’s moved on already.’

  I let the thought linger for a moment, and in spite of how seriously fed up and jealous I feel right now, I also can’t help feeling a teeny bit secretly pleased. Ha! Of course Tom has the right to his happy-ever-after too, just like Dad and Nancy, but if he doesn’t want it with me, then I’d sooner he have it with Valentina. At least she’s an unknown entity who lives in Brazil – perhaps he’ll move there and live happily ever after. Out of sight. Unlike Zara with her horrible attitude and collection of pilfered handbags that she tosses on the floor without a second thought, while dishing out dirty looks in my direction. I imagine she’ll be all over Tom, rubbing my nose in it at every opportunity.

  21

  Two shopping weeks until Christmas

  I’m at work, stuffing acid-free tissue paper into a rainbow crystal clutch when Annie sidles up to me with a tentative look on her face.

  ‘Have you heard?’

  ‘Heard what?’ I ask, busying myself by placing the clutch in a prominent position near the edge of the display shelf, and right under a spotlight to accentuate the sparkle from the crystals.

  ‘About the engagement?’ she swivels her eyes nervously.

  ‘Oh that. Yes, I heard a while ago.’ I shake my hair back in what I hope is a nonchalant way.

  ‘Oh good,’ she says, before quickly adding, ‘sorry, I don’t mean good as in good good, I mean … oh God, it’s all coming out wrong. I meant, that, well, it’s good that you know already. Only Zara has been going on about it to anyone who will listen and I didn’t want you to hear via shop-floor gossip. Emma in Stationery got cornered in the lift the other day and said that Zara wouldn’t shut up about “her news” and that as soon as she gets the ring she’ll let everyone see it. Nobody likes her, you know.’ Annie flings a hand on her hip and twiddles her nose stud.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. And apparently she’s been telling people that I’m a “dirty pikey”.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry Annie.’

  ‘Oh don’t be, I can handle myself.’ She puffs her ample cleavage out. ‘But she was also overheard saying that it was a good job Denise in Home Electricals wasn’t in the show as she would have scared all the viewers away.’

  ‘Nooo. Poor Denise. I hope it hasn’t filtered back to her.’

  ‘Not yet. But what a mean thing to say – Denise can’t help having that burn scar down the side of her neck.’ Annie looks over her shoulder before leaning in to me with a deadly serious look on her face. ‘I could clump her one, if you like. Would wipe that fake smile off her mush.’

  ‘Err, no. That won’t be necessary,’ I quickly say, dreading to think what Tom would think if it ever came out that I was behind his fiancée getting slapped. I’d be deemed a thug as well as a stalker. I spot a customer trying on a D&G top handle bag and, feeling grateful for the distraction, I apologise to Annie and make my way over.

  ‘Oh good choice, we have it in cherry red too.’ I smile at the forty-something woman while admiring her gorgeous swingy poncho as she checks out the bag in the long mirror.

  ‘How much is it please?’ she asks, handing me the bag. I check the inside pocket and show her the tag. She ponders for a moment before saying,

  ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘Lovely. Is it a gift?’ I ask, impressed with her quick decision-making skills. Customers usually procrastinate for a little longer over bags in the nine-hundred-pound-plus bracket, unless they’re Princess Ameerah of course.

  ‘Yes,’ she says, fingering the matching purse.

  ‘I’ll gift-wrap it for you in that case.’

  ‘Oh no need. It’s for me – a Christmas present to myself. And I’ll have this to go with it too.’ She hands me the purse.

  ‘Great. Are you sure you wouldn’t like them gift-wrapped?’ I ask, and she hesitates. ‘Might as well, there’s no extra charge and if you’re treating yourself … ’ I say, hoping to persuade her. ‘All part of the shopping experience,’ I beam.

  ‘Oh go on then. I can put them under my tree and think of my ex-husband as I open them on Christmas Day. After all, he’s paying … even if he doesn’t know it.’ She flashes me a wry smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say diplomatically.

  ‘Don’t be. I caught him with someone. In fact, you might know her, she’s something to do with this show your shop is involved in,’ she says, in a very breezy voice, while plucking a credit card from her purse.

  ‘Kelly Cooper Come Instore?’ I confirm, wondering who it could be as I head over to my till.

  ‘Yes, that’s the one. My husband is an actor and well … ’ She pauses to slap the card on the counter. ‘It was only a matter of time. Things have been rocky for a while between us, and Lawrence has always been such an outrageous flirt.’ Oh God. She must be Declan’s mum, the cute little boy with the Irish guy who bought the Chloé bag that Zara ruined. ‘In fact I was thinking of leaving him in any case, but nobody wants to be upstaged by a gorgeous creature less than half their age now, do they?’

  ‘Indeed,’ I say, busying myself with the gift-wrapping. I’m used to customers offloading, and have learnt over the years to just listen without voicing an opinion, rather like hairdressers do. I guess it’s easier to talk to a stranger sometimes.

  ‘And to think, he seduced her with my son in tow.’ Silence follows as I run the transaction through the till. ‘He’s three years old, for Christ’s sake.’ I turn the card reader towards her and she punches in the PIN. ‘My apologies, I’ve embarrassed you.’ I notice her trembling hands as she stows the credit card back in her purse.

  ‘No, not all. I’m sorry,’ I say discreetly, making sure I keep my voice low. I really feel for her, being thrown over for someone else is totally crap. I should know. Maybe it’s better to stay single after all; I’m not sure I could bear it if my actual husband was unfaithful. I think of Mum. I’m so glad she never knew about Dad’s affair. Although, I have been wondering recently if perhaps she did know, and just chose not to acknowledge it. I’ve been racking my brains, going over and over things. I distinctly remember sitting on the hall stairs listening to Mum crying on the phone in the lounge to her friend one time. Maeve, in Australia, and Mum was saying something about “she can give him what I can’t”. I swallow hard, Mum must have assumed they were sleeping together, just like Bob had. How could Dad do it? And in an instance, my feelings about him and Nancy waver. I grab two carrier bags from under the counter and quickly push the thoughts from my head. I focus on tying ribbon around the handles instead. I can’t think about it all now.

  ‘Oh don’t be. I’m having a fabulous time, next stop the salon upstairs. I’m having the works and then I’m off to Dubai to meet up with an old girlfriend who has some gorgeously eligible bachelor friends lined up for me to meet. I just hope Lawrence’s new lover is good with kids as my three darling boys are a handful.’

  ‘Of course. You’ve just had a baby. Congratulations.’ The minute the words come out of my mouth I regret them. She instinctively folds her arms over her perfectly flat stomach.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she mutters, blinking furiously.

  ‘Err, I’m so sorry. I thought, um … Lawrence mentioned you’d had a new baby, when he came first came into the store. It was a rehearsal scene for the show. He bought a handbag … ’ I will my cheeks to stop burning. Diplomacy. At all times.

  ‘Oh did he? Well that’s nice of him to inform m
e. No. No babies. Just three adorable but extremely boisterous sons aged ten, seven and three years old. Lawrence is having them on alternate weekends and a whole month in the summer. I’ll be making sure of that. Sooo, we’ll see how long Zara hangs around!’ she beams, before taking the gift-wrapped bags and breezing over to the escalator.

  Oh my God!

  My jaw drops.

  I close my mouth and duck into the little cupboard behind my counter to pull out my mobile and quickly tap out a text to Sam.

  Are you up for some lunch hun? xxxx

  Sam replies straight away.

  If you have gossip, then I need to know IMMEDIATELY :) Early Lunch? Like RIGHT NOW??? A girl needs details!!! xxx

  I smile, pleased that Sam seems happier. More like her old self. I know she’s been quiet, but she has good days too when she says she feels really optimistic, especially after her gynaecologist said that there’s no reason why she can’t try to conceive again right away, if that’s what she wants. She says that’s her focus now. Positive action. But then a seemingly random event can set her off. The last time it happened was during a holiday advert about cruises and cherishing memories. She has no idea why it made her cry, other than when she first knew she was pregnant, she had started imagining a whole lifetime, not just for her, but for the baby too, and now it won’t happen. Those memories won’t be made. I struggle to know what to say to comfort her sometimes, so I figured I should tell her this rather than say the wrong thing. She’s my best friend and I want to help her as much as I can. I just wish I could snatch the sorrow away for her. But she said the best thing I can do is not be afraid to ask how she’s feeling because she’s not going to crumble in front of me. Plus, I should carry on being how I’ve always been with her, not tiptoe around making her feel fragile. She said the hardest part to deal with is when people avoid her – people who used to stop and chat, but now cross the road or hover in the doorway of the café until someone else is at the counter to serve them. If they only asked how she was, then she could thank them and say that some days are good, some not so, before talking about something else.