by Mandy Baggot
‘Jeans, a cream coat you’ve had since forever and a T-shirt that isn’t really cool for your age.’
‘What’s wrong with telling the world I like Coca-Cola? Don’t you know the holidays are coming?’ Hayley began to chant the theme song from the Coke advert until Angel put her hands over her ears.
‘I meant I’m not wearing my uniform,’ Hayley stated once the joke had worn thin.
‘I wondered why it was easier getting here. There was no adjusting your hat or ducking for doors.’
‘Is she going to call me Agatha?’
‘Is she going to call me Charlotte?’
Hayley let out a breath.
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Angel said, indicating the door in front of them.
Hayley raised her hand then stopped. ‘Something’s different.’ She turned to Angel. ‘The garland on the door here.’ She knew it wasn’t a touch they’d added. She reached out and put her fingers to the round fir pine cone and lace ornament hanging on the door. ‘Did you put it there?’
Angel shook her head.
The door opened and Hayley immediately dropped her hand from the decoration to greet Cynthia. ‘Hello … sorry, we were going to knock straight away but we started to admire your garland on the door.’
The woman smiled at them both. This was a good start. There was colour on her cheeks, she was wearing a vibrant pink dress with navy blue piping and she wasn’t waving a fist.
‘Won’t you come in?’ Cynthia said, opening the door wider.
Hayley pushed Angel in first.
‘Wow!’ Angel stated, her head tilting backwards as they stepped into the hall. Hayley found her head tilting back too as she took in the transformation. The cavernous, expensive-looking hall of bright tiles and wooden cladding had been transformed into something warm and welcoming, straight out of an upmarket alpine lodge. There was a huge, real Christmas tree towering up towards the ceiling, its branches decked with coloured lights, red bows, balls and baubles. Swags of velvet hung from the stair rail, the scent of pine, marshmallow and mint filled Hayley’s nostrils and Angel was already walking over to a tweed chair in which a fat Santa Claus doll was sitting, his head turning left and right and his animated cheeks glowing.
‘Come through,’ Cynthia said, opening up the doors to the lounge.
Hayley took Angel by the arm, pulling her away from Father Christmas and trying to direct her attention back to the task in hand.
‘Wow,’ Angel stated again as they entered the other room.
‘Enough of the wowing,’ Hayley said through gritted teeth. She levelled a smile at Cynthia who led the way over to the sofas.
Their hard work to transform the room into a more homely space had been left untouched by the house owner. There was even a second Christmas tree by the fire, more ornaments and fripperies, a couple more framed photos.
‘Won’t you sit down,’ Cynthia said, dropping into an armchair.
Hayley plumped for the two-seater sofa opposite and Angel followed her lead.
Cynthia smiled. ‘Would you like some tea?’ She indicated the pot on the coffee table between them.
Hayley shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
Cynthia nodded. Hayley watched the woman toying with her hands as they rested in her lap. She seemed nervous.
‘So, I’ve asked you here today to say thank you,’ Cynthia began.
Hayley swallowed. Was she serious? A thank you hadn’t figured in any of the possible scenarios she’d thought up. This was the very last thing she’d expected.
‘I have to admit, the moment I set eyes on what you did in this room …’ She paused, so many emotions present in her expression. ‘Well, I didn’t see it for what it was right away.’
‘I apologise … I’m new at the company. It was my very first Diana. In fact, it was my very first anything at all …’ Hayley began.
‘And my name isn’t Charlotte,’ Angel blurted out.
Cynthia burst out laughing then, leaning forward in her chair, her hands on her knees, her chest vibrating with sound.
Now Hayley felt uneasy, like Ant and Dec were about to burst out and declare she was the victim of a Saturday Night Takeaway prank. She swallowed.
Cynthia smiled. ‘All these years I’ve had Majestic Cleaning no one has turned my living room into exactly that – a living room.’ She drew in a breath. ‘It was just what I needed at exactly the right time.’
Hayley was still unsure what to say.
‘I’ve been not living for so long I’d almost forgotten what it was all about, what’s most important.’
‘I love the Christmas trees,’ Angel said, jumping up from the sofa and going over to the tree by the fire.
‘Me too,’ Cynthia answered, smiling.
‘I don’t really understand,’ Hayley admitted.
‘I lost my husband not so long ago, and my son.’
Hayley felt the woman’s grief thicken the air between them.
‘But you can’t mourn forever or else mourning is the only connection you have with the people you’ve lost.’ Cynthia stood then, moving to the mantelpiece and picking up a framed photo. ‘They were both such life-loving, vibrant characters. They would hate the fact that I’ve been moping around here just because my other son won’t move on.’ Cynthia showed Angel the photo she was holding.
‘That’s my husband there. Handsome, wasn’t he?’
‘He’s cute,’ Angel said, pointing at another person in the picture.
‘Ah, that’s my son, the one who passed away.’
‘And that one?’ Angel asked.
‘That’s Oliver, my other son. He’s the stubborn one.’
Hayley watched Angel’s eyes go out on stalks as she turned to face her. Her daughter mouthed ‘Mr Meanie’ and Hayley stood up, nudging the coffee table with her leg and making the cups roll together and chink.
‘Oliver Drummond?’ Hayley was taking the photo from Cynthia’s hand before she was truly aware of it.
Cynthia was Cynthia Drummond, Oliver’s mother. The people in the photo were Oliver’s father and his brother, the two people he’d talked so passionately about last night. She swallowed. Suddenly being here had taken on a different dimension entirely.
‘I’m not surprised you’ve heard of him. That article in the news yesterday …’ Cynthia shook her head.
‘My uncle works for him,’ Angel said.
‘Angel …’ Hayley began.
‘Angel? Is that your real name?’ Cynthia smiled. ‘It’s very pretty.’
‘My uncle is in charge of the Globe,’ Angel continued, grinning.
‘Which we do not talk about at all to anyone, because it’s top secret,’ Hayley said sternly.
‘How are things going with that?’ Cynthia asked Angel, looking at her with sincere eyes.
‘I love Rabbit Nation.’
‘But will it be as addictive as Candy Crush Saga?’ Cynthia asked seriously.
‘Encouraging children to love their rabbits is better than encouraging them to look at sweets.’
‘That’s a very good point,’ Cynthia agreed.
Hayley looked again at the family photo in her hand. Happy, smiling faces at the beach. Cynthia was there in jeans and a T-shirt, long hair loose, her husband, a tall, well-built man with a wide smile and sparkling eyes, was on one side of a surfboard stuck in the sand and the two boys were knelt in front. Oliver’s brother was dark-haired like his father and, even as a youth, was archetypally handsome. Oliver had his arm around his brother and he was grinning like this moment was the happiest of his life. Hayley raised her eyes to look at Cynthia. Had she really given up on Oliver? Maybe she should send Angel on an errand to find lemonade and come clean that she knew him, tell Cynthia how he felt about the Regis Software merger … how he felt about Andrew Regis. The words weren’t coming. It wasn’t her place.
Cynthia smiled at Hayley. ‘I bought a hound’s-tooth scarf yesterday.’
Hayley put the photo back on the
mantelpiece. ‘You did?’
‘I did. And you were right. It does go beautifully with my coat.’
‘Well, I…’
‘Mum’s great at fashion tips,’ Angel jumped in. ‘She works at a dry-cleaners and she plans parties for people.’
‘Angel …’ Hayley felt her cheeks glowing.
‘Parties. I’m so pleased to hear that.’ Cynthia clasped her hands together. ‘I’ll cut right to the chase.’ The woman took a long breath before continuing. ‘I’d like you to work on a project with me.’
‘A project?’ Hayley asked.
‘Yes. I work with a charitable organisation whose annual fundraiser is in need of pepping up a little. It’s a cause very close to my heart and I really want this year to be extra special. The lady who usually helps me has gone down with glandular fever. She can’t work, she can barely speak and …’
‘I really don’t think …’ Hayley interrupted.
‘Please, hear me out.’ The plea in Cynthia’s tone tugged at her. ‘It’s one night, at the Crystalline Hotel, three hundred people, a three course meal and entertainment, plus awards and speeches.’
Cynthia continued. ‘What you did here yesterday … you have an eye for detail and that’s what I need. I need someone to come in and make that ballroom special.’
‘You mean décor? Table settings?’ Hayley asked. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Was it panic or passion being ignited?
‘Yes and party favours. Plus I definitely need something more entertaining than last year’s barber shop quartet.’
‘You want me to organise the whole event?’ Now her stomach was pumping bile and adrenaline in equal measure.
‘I’ll be there to help, but I’d like you to coordinate everything.’
‘It sounds so cool,’ Angel remarked, eyes bright.
‘With any outside companies you decide to use, of course, and a very generous budget,’ Cynthia continued.
‘When Angel said party planning … it’s a small business, local.’ She wet her lips. ‘It isn’t New York,’ Hayley stated.
‘Don’t forget you put on that big fashion show for my school and the fete last summer.’
She was so lucky to have a daughter who remembered everything. However, she could tell this event was in a completely different league to a local fair and juniors wearing Roman costume.
‘I’ll put a team of assistants at your disposal and I’ll be on hand or at the other end of a phone to help you. Plus I’ll pay you twice the going rate for a New York event organiser,’ Cynthia continued.
Hayley shook her head. This was crazy. ‘You could hire any of them. All of them much more capable and experienced. Why me?’
Cynthia took a breath. ‘I’ve had people coming into this house since my husband died and not one of them did what you did the other day. You picked up on what was missing and you delivered it. That’s what I want for this fundraiser. I want people to feel the human touch, go away knowing the aims of the foundation, feeling hopeful for the future, celebrating the past, not crying into their eggnog over those they’ve lost. We’re still living, we shouldn’t be ashamed of that fact.’ Cynthia’s words couldn’t have been more impassioned.
It was a huge responsibility. And this woman was Oliver’s mother. How did that sit in the equation? It didn’t. It was so utterly awkward it made her feel sick. Then again, she hadn’t actually heard from him yet. Maybe he’d been a lot drunker than she’d realised. Perhaps he had no intention of really following through on this date idea. Why was that thought kicking her so hard?
‘Please, Agatha, say yes and make my Christmas,’ Cynthia begged.
Hayley looked to Angel. Her daughter had wide eyes resembling a pleading cat desperate for food, her hands clasped together like a starving orphan from Oliver. She had to say no. She had no papers to work here. She knew things about Cynthia she really shouldn’t know if she was going to work for her. Plus, she’d already told Angel she was giving up the cleaning job. She was on a mission to find Angel’s father. She didn’t have time for bolts out of the blue. She swallowed, the pressure in the room getting to her. But it was exciting. It would challenge her in a way she hadn’t been challenged since Angel was born. It was short term, one event – huge, terrifying – but the thought of it was making her heart sing. She would have a chance to use her flair and imagination and it was for a good cause. Should she question how the opportunity had come her way? Or just go with it?
She sucked in a breath, ions fizzing around her body in reaction. ‘My real name’s Hayley. I have absolutely no idea why you would give me a chance like this.’ She paused. ‘And I also have no idea if I can actually pull this off, but if you’re really sure I’m what you need … ‘
‘I am sure,’ Cynthia insisted.
‘Then … I accept.’ She swallowed, not believing she had really said the words. She nodded. ‘I’ll do it.’
Angel let out a squeal and grabbed her mother’s hands, shaking them up and down until she thought her arms might drop off.
‘Thank you,’ Cynthia said, her words full of sentiment.
‘I have no idea what I’ve let myself in for. You’d better show me the layout of this Crystalline Hotel ballroom,’ Hayley said, a nervous laugh falling from her lips.
‘I can do better than that. I’ll take you there tomorrow.’
‘Great,’ Hayley nodded. ‘So, when is this big night? How long do I have to organise the extravaganza to end all extravaganzas?’
‘Oh you have plenty of time,’ Cynthia said, moving towards the coffee table and reaching for the pot of tea. ‘It’s in five days.’
33
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Hayley poked a whole handful of crisps into her mouth at once and chewed them up over Dean’s laptop, spattering crumbs over the keyboard. Her ideas book was open on the central island, two pieces of material sticking out of the pages. One was platinum coloured with a matt finish, the other a gold gauze. It was part of the décor for a party she’d organised at the local city hall. The Guggenheim dress design hadn’t been progressed but she had much bigger things to focus on now. Her hope was some of these scraps of ideas were going to leap out and help kick-start the plans for the fundraiser.
‘Did you know the Crystalline Hotel is one of the oldest hotels in New York City?’
Hayley opened her mouth at Angel’s statement, more crisps scattering, and she turned her head to where Angel was sat on the sofa with Dean.
‘Hang on. How do you know that? I have the laptop right here,’ Hayley exclaimed.
‘And I,’ Angel began. ‘I have the Globe. The whole world at my fingertips.’
Hayley watched her daughter poking the screen of the tablet like an old hand and shook her head.
‘So, I’m not really sure how you’ve ended up organising a Drummond family function,’ Dean said, turning his head to Hayley.
‘Sshh! Don’t call it that! It isn’t that!’
She had already decided that she couldn’t tell Oliver anything about this. He still hadn’t called so maybe it wasn’t even going to be an issue. She knew his relationship with his mother was complicated at the moment. If she heard from him, if they did go out, she was just going to have to keep the two things separate. That’s what you had to do when there was a conflict of interest wasn’t it? Or were you meant to come clean? A shiver of acknowledgement that lying to either party wasn’t the right answer ran through her. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it.
‘Well, first of all Mum got a cleaning job and had to wear this …’ Angel started.
‘Haven’t you got rabbits to play with?’ Hayley interrupted.
‘You got a job? What job? When? Why?’ Dean pumped out.
‘Please say a word that doesn’t begin with a “W”.’
‘Hayley …’
‘Agatha,’ Angel chipped in.
‘Kiss goodbye to any more ice cream, missy!’
Dean put his hands
to his head, looking completely bewildered. ‘A job? And now this thing for Cynthia Drummond? You’re supposed to be on holiday and ... the other thing.’
‘Looking for my dad,’ Angel offered.
‘I know this,’ Hayley replied. ‘And I’m not doing the job any more, just this other thing for the mother of your boss.’
‘We needed the extra money,’ Angel said, leading with an expression that said poverty.
‘I think we need to talk.’
Hayley swallowed. Dean’s voice was verging on stern. A tendon in his neck was pulsing, his face on the edge of puce. Dean usually only did comedic camp angry. This wasn’t good.
‘Shall I shut my ears?’ Angel chirruped.
Hayley got down from the bar stool and flounced out into the hallway, knowing her brother would follow. She backed herself up against the wall, her head level with a framed photo of Shirley Bassey. There was so much he could say and she wasn’t sure which bit scared her the most.
Dean arrived in the hallway and closed the door behind him. He folded his arms across his chest.
‘Very nightclub doorman,’ Hayley remarked.
‘This isn’t a joke.’
‘Which bit?’
‘Exactly!’ Dean let his arms drop then flourished them upwards. ‘The fact you said that says everything.’
‘Just get it over with.’ Hayley dropped her eyes to the carpet.
‘Oliver Drummond came to see me today. He told me he’d asked you out on a date.’
Her heart skipped. He was going to follow through. He was thinking about her. He’d meant what he said. She swallowed. Why did she feel so awkward about it with Dean?
‘How has that happened?’ Dean asked again.
‘If I told you it all began in an alleyway would that make me sound like a ho?’
Dean shook his head at her. Perhaps fighting her corner with humour wasn’t the best idea when he was in this mood. Her mother always hated it.
‘Should I have said no?’ she asked Dean. ‘Is there an employee family no-go zone or something?’
‘I didn’t realise you were looking for a relationship.’