Carrington's at Christmas

by Alexandra Brown

  I ask Annie to cover while I pop up to the café.

  ‘Sure, no problem. And give Sam my love. Tell her I’ll be up later on my tea break and if she wants to chat … well, it happened to me last year.’

  ‘Oh Annie, I’m sorry. I never knew.’ I give her hand a quick squeeze.

  ‘And my cousin the year before and my aunty Sadie has had three miscarriages. It’s more common than we think, only nobody really talks about it. I don’t understand why … maybe we should, and then when it happens we might not feel so alone.’

  I give her a hug before pulling back to look her in the eye.

  ‘You’re a wise woman, Annie O’Leary.’

  22

  ‘So, rewind a bit and start from the beginning.’ I’m with Sam, and we’re in the best booth, tucked away in the far corner of the café. In the time it took me to get up here, she’s made us each a mug of delicious crème brûlée latte, a round of turkey feast sandwiches and sliced up an extra gooey-looking chocolate Yule log. Sam tucks into her second sandwich. I wipe my fingers on a napkin and take another sip of the latte, the swirly caramel and whipped cream topping coating my top lip. ‘I need to understand what’s going on here,’ she says.

  ‘Are you sure? It seems trivial now somehow, after everything that’s happened,’ I say, worried now that I shouldn’t have been so impulsive. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Stop it. Please.’ She smiles. ‘I’m fine. Women have miscarriages every day, I’m not ashamed or delicate. Yes, there’ll always be a little part of my heart that’s broken, but I’m still me. I’m strong. And I still want to hear all the gossip. Now tell me … ’ She nods for me to continue.

  ‘OK. Well, like I said, Lawrence’s wife caught him with Zara,’ I whisper.

  ‘Nooo … but caught them doing what exactly?’ Sam makes big eyes.

  ‘Well, she didn’t go into specific details.’

  ‘Hmm, so it could be nothing at all. A clinch. A hug. Even a friendly kiss on the cheek for all we know. To be honest Georgie, I just don’t get it, it doesn’t make sense. Not when Zara was so excited about the engagement, I heard her with my own ears, telling Princess Ameerah how much Tom loves her and how he practically begged her to marry him.’ I breathe in sharply. ‘Sorry hun.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s nothing at all because Lawrence’s wife said she was leaving him and going to Dubai, and she even talked about sharing custody of their children,’ I say, my mind working overtime.

  ‘Oh dear, that does sound pretty serious. So what are you going to do?’ Sam raises her eyebrows enquiringly and takes another bite of her sandwich.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, are you going to confront her?’ she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she talks and chews.

  ‘I can’t do that. It’s not really my business.’ I shake my head.

  ‘Of course it is. Ask her!’

  ‘Sam, I can’t, really. Besides, it’ll just look like sour grapes. And what if Kelly finds out? Zara is her daughter after all. And remember, Kelly and Tom’s mother are friends, so it’s bound to get back to him. Or, worse still, it turns out to be untrue, or what if it is true and Tom already knows and has forgiven her or something – he could end up hating me for meddling and ruining his “happy-ever-after”. Just because Lawrence and his wife are over – I mean, she did say that their relationship had been rocky for a while – it doesn’t necessarily mean that Tom and Zara are over,’ I say, secretly wishing more than anything that they were. ‘And what about Valentina? Where does she fit into all of this?’

  ‘No idea. And you may not want to know what’s going on, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. It’s the least I can do after playing Cupid and getting you two together in the first place. I can’t believe I got him so wrong.’ Sam finishes chewing and folds her arms assertively.

  ‘Sooo, what do you have in mind?’ I venture, slowly.

  ‘Right. This is the bottom line. Do you still want him?’

  ‘You know I do.’ I will my cheeks to stop flushing as, no matter what, it’s not my style to go after an attached guy, even if he is my one … or so I had thought.

  ‘Well, that settles it then. I’ve had enough of this, and one thing I’ve learnt recently is that you have to grab every chance of happiness with both hands, no matter how fleetingly it comes your way … ’ She pauses momentarily. ‘I can’t promise that he’ll come back to you, but I’m not sitting back and letting you go through this for a second longer. You deserve a proper explanation. I’ll do it at the wrap party.’

  ‘Do what?’ I ask nervously, Sam has come up with some truly hare-brained schemes over the years, so I dread to think what she has planned. ‘Well, if you don’t want to have it out with Zara, then I’ll ask Tom!’

  ‘Oh Sam, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’ll think I’m some kind of silly schoolgirl, getting my best friend to confront him. And I’ll look like a bunny-boiler for sure.’ Panic rises in me.

  ‘No you won’t. Besides, that’s not all he’s been up to.’ Sam places her mug down and gives me a serious look.

  ‘Go on,’ I say tentatively, thinking of Zara and Valentina and wondering just how many more women there are. Sam turns to look me in the eye. ‘What is it? You’re scaring me.’ I brace myself.

  ‘You’ll never guess what Mandy told me.’ Sam makes big eyes.

  ‘No?’ I bite my bottom lip. I’m absolutely desperate to know. I can hear my own blood pumping in my ears as I rack my brains trying to fathom what it could possibly be.

  ‘Now, this is strictly confidential.’ Sam leans in really close to me. ‘Mandy could lose her job at the town hall.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ll take it to the grave,’ I say quickly, tilting my head towards her. She covertly lifts my big hair to talk directly into my ear.

  ‘Someone wants to buy the Carrington’s building and turn it into a hotel!’ she whispers, and the pounding sound is so loud now, my heart feels as though it’s going to burst right out of my chest.

  Silence follows.

  Sam leans back. I gulp. No. This can’t be happening. But why? I don’t understand. Panic engulfs me. Everything is changing. Everything I thought I had is disappearing, one by one, slipping through my fingers like sand in a timer, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it. And why would Tom do this? Why would he let it happen?

  ‘But why, how?’ I eventually manage. My hand is shaking as I place my mug back on the table.

  ‘That’s all Mandy knows.’ Sam helps herself to a slice of Yule log. ‘Apparently a request has been received via a solicitor in London. Something about a mystery person enquiring about a change of use from shop to hotel with underground parking.’

  ‘I knew it!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Kelly! I knew it right from the start that she wasn’t to be trusted. I heard her, remember? Talking about a hotel with underground parking. I thought she was lining up her next TV series.’

  ‘Yes! I remember,’ Sam says.

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense. Why would she invest so much money in the store if she plans on closing it down and making it into a hotel?’ I ask, my mind racing, desperate for it to be a mistake. For Mandy to have got it horribly wrong.

  ‘Exactly! Now can you see why somebody has to confront Tom? He’s the boss, after all. The major shareholder. And this affects all of us.’

  ‘True,’ I say, trying to think straight.

  ‘Enough is enough. He can’t carry on like this. First he dumps you, and now he wants to dump Carrington’s. And I for one have worked too hard to sit back and lose my lovely café, on top of everything else I’ve lost.’ Her voice falters momentarily. I squeeze her hand.

  ‘But he loves this store. It’s his family’s business going back generations. The original Mr Carrington was his great grandfather. Why would he even want to sell Carrington’s? We have to find out more. Can’t you ask Mandy for a name?’ I ask, panic rising in my voice.r />
  ‘I’ve already tried but she wasn’t budging – data protection and all that.’ Sam shakes her head.

  ‘Well, there’s got to be something we can do. Some way of getting more information before we confront Tom,’ I plead.

  ‘But let’s look at the facts. A hotel could also benefit from a pet spa; guests could even board their pooches next door and have them walked, too, like a kind of dog hotel. You know there are restaurants and hotels in London that do it – exercise your dog while you dine,’ she says, knowingly. ‘And why not have an ice rink on the roof?’

  ‘Ahh, but you wouldn’t refurbish a whole personal shopping suite just to rip it out again when you turn it into a junior stateroom or whatever. And you know she’s even installed a Costa Express machine in there,’ I say, still hoping somehow that Mandy really has got it all wrong.

  ‘Well, some hotels have coffee machines too,’ Sam sniffs disapprovingly.

  I nod, letting it all sink in as I desperately try to push the sickening feeling aside. What if Tom really is selling? He could be. He told me himself he was worried about turning the store around, being able to pull it off. And all those doubters in the business world he had to contend with, watching and whispering about his abilities – maybe he’s seen an opportunity, a way out, and decided to sell to Kelly and Zara, and most likely Princess Ameerah is on it too. She’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps she’s the one putting up the money so Kelly and Zara can film the transition from shop to hotel. And it’s not as if doing the show has upped our game that much. Takings are only slightly higher than would be expected anyway for this time of year. I saw the sales chart on the wall of the staff canteen. And not forgetting his horrible text message, is this what he meant about me losing my job too? Because if Carrington’s were to become a hotel, then where would that leave me and the rest of the staff – Eddie, Annie, Mrs Grace, Melissa, Lauren, Doris and Suzanne? We all love working here. It doesn’t bear thinking about. And in an instance, the wrap party I’ve been dreading for so long, now suddenly seems so much more appealing – if nothing else, I’ll get to see Tom. To talk to him. To confront him, once and for all. To find out exactly what is going on. Sam is right, we can’t just sit back and let him sell Carrington’s out from under us … but there’s something else I must do first.

  23

  Five shopping days until Christmas

  I’m in the little wine bar tucked down a side street behind Carrington’s. I’ve decided to meet up with Dan to explain how I feel. It’s only fair. We thought it best to meet here, discreet, and away from the Mulberry gossips and the paparazzi. I take a sip of rosé, pacing myself. It’s Monday evening – well, late afternoon really – but I need something to help me relax. I’m so wound up, even my shoulders seem to have fused into a spasm. I’m back on the emotional rollercoaster – one minute I still want Tom so much it practically takes my breath away, but then in the next moment I’m consumed with a mixture of sorrow and anger. Angry with myself for getting it so wrong yet again. How could I have been so stupid? To actually think he was into me, that we were really going to spend Christmas together. It’s obvious now, if he is planning on letting Carrington’s become a hotel, that he never had any real intention of us having a future together. He can’t have done. He knows how much I love the store, how I grew up with it. It’s part of me. And all those conversations we had, where he confided in me about his plans for Carrington’s, schmoozed me with it all – was I just a distraction until someone like Zara came along? Because if that’s what it really was, then he really needn’t have bothered making so much effort – all those illicit glances across the shop floor, rendezvous in his office, lunch dates, dinner dates, long late-night conversations, even travelling to Italy to surprise me … I wanted him from the first moment I clapped eyes on him. I wanted to sleep with him. And women can want sex too these days – this isn’t the Victorian times or whenever, where they had to pretend they didn’t. But it was so much more than that too. I was falling in love with him and you can’t just switch that off, no matter how hard you try.

  I glance at my watch, and on seeing that I’m fifteen minutes early, I pull out my mobile to try Sam again. I’m getting worried as she hasn’t been around. I’ve not managed to talk to her since that day in the café – whenever I’ve popped into the café she’s not there, and Stacey doesn’t know where she is. And when I’ve called her, there’s either no answer or she hasn’t returned my messages. It’s unlike Sam to go AWOL; we usually talk or see each other every day. I’m just about to hang up when she answers.

  ‘Sam! Are You OK?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’m fine. Sorry. I’ve been busy … just some business stuff. Boring!’ She laughs.

  ‘Ah, I see. As long as you’re all right. I was getting worried,’ I say, feeling relieved. It’s most likely something to do with Archie’s multimillion-pound estate. As his sole beneficiary, Sam has had loads to sort out since he died earlier this year. Meeting with Archie’s lawyers. In addition to his estate agency business, he owned three properties, and that was just in this country. I think she said there were apartments in Hong Kong, Dubai and Sydney too. Archie didn’t like hotels, much preferring to stay in one of his own homes when travelling. And then there is the multitude of international business accounts. I remember Sam saying they were a convoluted puzzle that the lawyers were struggling to sort out – Nathan had to call in the help of an international taxation specialist to help unravel everything. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ I offer, but knowing there probably isn’t. ‘Paperwork? I could file stuff, or make tea? Or what about phone calls – I could help with those,’ I joke, feeling relieved that she’s OK.

  ‘Thanks, but not really. Think I’ve got it under control, just be nice to get everything sorted out by Christmas. Only seven days to go!’ She sounds excited, and it makes me feel really happy for her after everything she’s been through. ‘Are you sure it’s still OK to come to yours?’ Sam asks.

  ‘Absolutely, you wait till you see the mountain of food I’ve got in. And Dad is really looking forward to seeing you.’

  ‘Great. I’m looking forward to it too. And the New Year. It’s a new start, full of wonderful possibilities … ’ And she sounds brighter than she has in a long time.

  Dan arrives, unravelling his scarf and pulling off his gloves as he reaches the table. One of his security people, a tall guy in a duffel coat, scans the room before settling himself on a stool at the bar.

  ‘Not been waiting too long I hope.’ Dan leans in to give me a kiss, his cheeks flushed and cold from the icy winter air outside. I smile and shake my head.

  ‘I just arrived. Can I get you a drink?’ I offer and go to stand up.

  ‘Oh no, stay put. I’ll get them. Same again?’ he asks, motioning to my now half-empty wine glass.

  ‘Err.’ I hesitate. I really shouldn’t, I’ve got work tomorrow. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine,’ I say, relaxing a bit.

  ‘Sure. Be back in a sec.’

  My mobile rings and on seeing a number I don’t recognise, I quickly press to decline the call, and stow the phone back in my bag.

  Dan returns with a pint in one hand and a bag of peanuts in the other.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ He waves the bag in the air. ‘It’s this winter weather, gives me a ferocious appetite.’ He laughs and bites the corner off the packet as he sits opposite me.

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’ I finish the last of my wine.

  ‘So how are you?’ He offers me the packet and I shake my head.

  ‘Good thanks,’ I say, being polite. I don’t want to bother him with my stuff. ‘And you?’

  ‘Yeah, not bad,’ he mutters, before glancing away.

  ‘You sure? You seem a bit preoccupied,’ I prompt.

  ‘Well, there is something … ’ He hesitates. ‘Err, something I need to talk to you about.’ He finishes the peanuts and squashes the bag up into a tiny ball.

  ‘OK. Me too.’

  ‘You first,’ he says,
keeping his eyes fixed on the table in between us, and suddenly I feel panicky. What am I doing? There are plenty of women who would love to date Dan. He’s such a nice guy, and I had a wonderful time on our date. It was romantic. And fun. And I felt happy. OK, not happy in a thrilling way, happy like I was with Tom, but content, and comfortable. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe I should forget about Tom, once and for all. If he is planning on getting rid of Carrington’s, then maybe it’s for the best, to draw a proper line underneath this part of my life and move on.

  ‘It’s nothing really. It’ll keep … you go first,’ I grin, and he takes a mouthful of his drink.

  ‘If you’re sure,’ he says, and I nod for him to continue. ‘OK.’ He inhales before letting out a big breath. He leans towards me. He hesitates as if it’s hard for him to say the words. ‘My ex-girlfriend is pregnant!’ A short silence follows. He downs the rest of his drink in one.

  ‘Great,’ I say, unsure of how to react.

  ‘The baby’s mine, apparently.’ He pushes a hand through his hair.

  ‘Well congratulations, that’s brilliant news,’ I say hesitantly; he doesn’t look overly happy. His shoulders have dropped and his left knee is pumping up and down like a piston.

  ‘Err … this is a good thing, right? You’re going to be a dad,’ I say, searching his eyes for confirmation.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Hey, it’s fine. Honestly. We had fun, but I totally understand if you want to be with her. This is huge news. Amazing,’ I say, feeling a bit relieved, the decision having been made for me. But there’s something else too …