‘You don’t need to apologise,’ I said. ‘You’re clearly exhausted.’
‘I really am,’ she replied. ‘I am so looking forward to about one o’clock on Christmas morning. The auction will be over, I’ll have a red wine uncorked and, if I’m lucky, I’ll be in a hot bath.’
‘Is everything okay?’ I asked. ‘Can I help with anything?’
‘Help? No.’ She offered a dismissive wave. ‘You’re on holiday. Unless, of course, you can track down Sarah Day. All the programs are printed, one of her photos is listed for sale, there’s a teeny tiny little picture of it, and people are enquiring about the piece. However, she, along with her piece of art, has disappeared. No one can get hold of her anywhere.’
‘Honestly, I can’t say I know who Sarah Day is.’ I bit the head off a gingerbread person.
‘Not many people will if she doesn’t show up in the next forty-eight hours.’
I cringed. ‘Fingers crossed.’
‘Anyway, I’m more intrigued by how your day went yesterday. I’m living vicariously through you at the moment, so spill,’ she said with raised brows and puckered lips as we turned into the next street.
Sloane Street was home to high-end fashion I could only dream of but, still, I lumbered to a stop outside the Chanel store and marvelled at the paper Christmas trees. Each layer of branches was fashioned out of what looked like a paper doily. That is if those paper doilies were only ever used for resting the very finest of priceless jewels atop of them. I’d barely managed to avoid the glare in the highly polished glass windows when my phone began buzzing around my pocket. I ignored it in favour of the almost perfect shot.
‘Well,’ I began tentatively. ‘Tom stopped by yesterday morning.’
‘So … he has a name,’ Estelle pressed. ‘Tom is a nice name.’
‘He does,’ I said. ‘And it is.’
‘And?’ Estelle looked on. ‘What happened?’
‘He was exceedingly lovely, and very understanding about it all. He also travels for work a lot, so we’re just going to take this week for what it is,’ I said. ‘If, by the time I get on the plane home, we feel that there’s something worth exploring, then we will do that.’
‘Do you think there’s something there?’ she asked.
My cheeks prickled. ‘You ever look at these window setups and just know you’d never be able to replicate them at home? I mean, it’s a dress made of a doily, right? Just some paper with holes in it.’
‘Yeah, but if we did it, it would look like a failed arts and crafts project,’ she said.
‘Nursery level, too, mind you. Two steps away from a glitter gun and some googly eyes.’
‘Pasta-shaped necklaces,’ she added. ‘And a sauce made of avoiding the topic again, Isobel.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, I think there’s something there. I can tell myself all I want that I’m going home soon, but I adore spending time with him. He’s calm and measured in that way that says he’s never fazed. He’s intelligent, polite, and beautiful.’
‘I’m so excited!’ Estelle danced on the spot as I began walking again. ‘You deserve this, it’s so brilliant. Makes me all fizzy inside.’
Farther down the road, outside Tom Ford, we cast envious eyes over the sharp-cut midnight-black suits and shoes so polished they made us avoid our own reflections. Estelle quipped that she could take a mannequin to Christmas dinner and he’d still be more polite than the last guy she’d dragged along. That was quite the statement, given the dummy wouldn’t be the world’s best conversationalist.
‘Do you ever meet people and wonder if you deserve them?’ I asked. ‘Like, what have I done so right?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course you deserve him. After whatshisname, you deserve someone who gets you and is okay with your job and what you do.’
Without giving away too much information – I still wasn’t sure how much I should share – I told her that we led similar lives; our jobs were rooted in travel. Travelling salesmen, salespeople, as Tom had so succinctly put it. Spending so much time away from home had been a great bonding point, but we’d found common ground in a number of other interests since.
‘It’s such an Isobel thing to bolt though.’ She nudged my elbow with hers. ‘I mean, we can draw parallels with this and the website you’ve been chewing over for years, can’t we?’
‘Can we?’ I asked. ‘I’m not sure they’re similar.’
‘I think we can, yeah.’ She lifted a lazy shoulder. ‘I mean, you’ve been going on about starting your own website for years and, really, I think you’re ready. You get to that precipice where idiot features Edwin has said something stupid again, and you message me in a flurry of “I’m going to leave, I’m going to do it”, and you never do. You just need to take the leap. Same with this guy. Just jump in. What’s the worst that can happen? You go home at the end of the week and never hear from him again, but at least you tried, right?’
‘I suppose you’re right, yes.’ I stuffed my camera back in my bag. ‘Actually, I was talking to Tom about my website the other night.’
‘And what are his thoughts?’ she asked. ‘I mean, besides the fact he’s suddenly taken my spot as confidant and advice-giver supreme.’
‘Yes, well, he wasn’t asleep, was he?’ I nudged her in the ribs. ‘He has said he would like to help.’
‘See?’ she said. ‘Also, when are you bringing this Tom home for dinner? I feel like I need to meet him, especially if he’s already willing to help you. You know, give him the sisterly once over.’
I chewed on my bottom lip and wondered if that wasn’t the worst idea ever. ‘I’ll ask him.’
‘Good, good.’ Estelle pulled me into a hug as we came to a stop outside an old warehouse. The light above the door that said Check-1-2 Gallery blinked and fritzed a warm yellow. ‘But on that note, have a good day, okay?’
‘You, too.’ I gave her one final life-assuring squeeze before skipping across the road with the green man and leaving her with a jumble of keys at the front door.
With the prospect of a whole morning to myself stretching out in front of me, I took the time to walk wherever my feet would take me. I passed the Hilton and then the Dorchester with its awnings heaving under the weight of half a dozen decorated fir trees. I thought about how I was going to frame my in-depth piece about Tom, how I wanted my website to look, and how I needed to start working on it already if I was ever going to get around to taking that leap Estelle had talked about.
She was one hundred per cent right; if I didn’t just take that first leap, it was never going to happen, and what better time to make it happen than now. I had the perfect subject in Tom, and, with a little bit of spare time, I was sure I could get it together. I checked my phone to see if there was any news from Tom and kept walking.
I rounded Marble Arch and walked the length of Oxford Street, my camera trained on lights, decorations and shop-front displays until I found myself squeezing into the Disney Store, phone pressed to my ear. I listened to the international dial tone, just that little bit more warbling than a local one.
‘Hey you,’ I began. ‘I’ve got some missed calls from you this morning.’
‘Well, hello there!’ Miriam said with a laugh. ‘Lady Jetsetter, how are you?’
‘I am currently walking towards Regent Street. Not that I’m bragging at all.’
‘Oh no, of course not,’ she snorted. ‘And I’m going down to the local Kmart tomorrow, so I’ll buy you some scented erasers, a fitted sheet and a bathroom stool.’
‘Hey, I could do with some new sheets,’ I said. ‘Seriously though, how are you? Are you all packed?’
‘We are about as packed as we can be,’ she said. ‘Whatever we forget, I’m sure we can buy.’
‘If Mum and Dad don’t have it already,’ I reminded her. ‘You know Mum is locked and loaded for an episode of Hoarders.’
‘Yeah, that too,’ she said. ‘What’s up? Are you all packed?’
‘I’ve still go
t a few days to go,’ I said. ‘But I am calling because I both owe you a call and I’m standing in the Disney Store, so some hints for Christmas would be great.’
‘Some hints for Christmas.’ Miriam chewed over her words. ‘Nothing too big for the girls. We’re only bringing limited luggage this time. I’ve told Mum and Dad that if it doesn’t fit in the girls’ carry-on, it’s not coming home.’
‘No six-foot-tall Mickey Mouse then,’ I peered across the store at the giant toy being set upon by a dozen rabid kids. ‘Got it.’
‘Could you imagine?’ she laughed. ‘They’d make me pay for another seat, I’m sure of it. Maybe strap him to the wing of the plane.’
‘Clothes?’ I asked. ‘Books? I can be the boring aunty.’
‘I don’t know about that. You keep coming home with stories of faraway lands, so you’re essentially their live-action Disney princess.’
‘I’m flattered.’ My chest pinched. Now, I just wanted to squeeze their little faces even more. ‘Does that mean I need to bring my Prince Charming home?’
‘Oh, I love how you’ve just dropped that nugget into the conversation,’ she teased. ‘Who is he?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ I stepped back out into Oxford Street, shoulder to shoulder with the crowd. ‘Clothes, right? I can do clothes.’
‘You’re such an arse,’ she complained. ‘Not even a hint?’
‘Hey, I don’t know where you’re going with this.’ I laughed. ‘I just said that I should. I didn’t say that I would.’
She sighed heavily. ‘Clothes are fine. Maybe a size or two too big so they get a few seasons out of them.’
‘I can do that,’ I said. ‘What about you and Jack?’
‘I was hoping you’d ask,’ she said. ‘Can I have some nice tea? You got me a really nice one last time you were in London. Whittard’s, I think. I just want a solid brew and five minutes to myself. Jack’s taken to doing the groceries and he keeps bringing home no name Earl Grey because he loves it. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s awful and I keep running out of time to buy my own.’
‘Is that all?’ I asked. ‘You sure you don’t want anything else?’
‘A break from the girls would be nice,’ she said with a laugh. ‘But seriously, it’s fine. Don’t worry about us too much.’
‘I’m sure I can come up with something.’ I crossed the street and saw a Whittard’s sign up ahead. ‘What about Jack?’
‘Jack will take some duty-free wine if you’ve got any allowance left.’
‘Plenty of room there,’ I said. ‘Leave it with me.’
‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’ Miriam asked. ‘Is he at least nice?’
‘Goodbye,’ I sang. ‘See you in a few days.’
‘I better!’ she warned.
Moments later, a text message came through with the name of the tea I’d brought Miriam last time I was in town. I slipped two containers of it across the counter, added a delicate floral teacup to it, and headed for Oxford Street. And then my phone buzzed again. This time, it was Tom.
Meeting’s all done. Where are you? Late lunch?
A drunken smile spread as I typed a reply.
Heading to Liberty’s. Meet me there?
Chapter 14
A lot of travellers will tell you they have a place, be it a particular store or restaurant or café that they return to every time they find themselves in their favourite city. While it was no secret my favourite café was Alfred’s, my favourite shopping spot was Liberty’s. It wasn’t especially because I was a shopper; I was happier curled up with a notebook and my camera. What I loved about the building was its history.
There was something marvellous about walking through the repurposed bowels of the old trade ships that had been used to construct the building. Everywhere I looked there were ships’ timbers, tiny windows and leadlights that harked back to their previous life.
Today, in its newer life, golden lights glinted around bannisters and a continuous bunting of fir fronds wound its way around the arteries of the building. Christmas trees stood in every nook and cranny and among all the reds and greens were white trees topped with pastel decorations. They made a refreshing change to the usual green-treed decorations I’d been treated to so far.
On the top floor, I leaned over the bannister to get a closer look at the hot air balloon that floated from the ceiling of the atrium. It was visible no matter which floor I stood on. After rummaging through baubles and felted ornaments, I selected a few rolls of wrapping paper and made my way towards the children’s clothing.
There was an array of cute knits, tall boots, tulle dresses and thick pants. I was picking through a rack of yellow raincoats, one held up before me when I felt an arm slip around my middle. I smiled and waited.
‘It’s definitely your colour, but it might be a bit small,’ Tom’s voice sounded over my right shoulder.
I chewed my lip. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I mean, you could always try it on. I’d be willing to watch, but it’s just a thought.’ He pressed a kiss into my shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you.’
I turned slowly. ‘And now that I can see you, it’s good to see you, too. I’m loving the suit minus the tie look.’
‘Ah, meetings,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘Thought I’d better put in some effort.’
‘Either way, you look fantastic.’ I tugged at the collar of his suit jacket. ‘Meeting go well?’
‘It did.’ He hoisted his backpack higher. ‘What are you doing? Shopping?’
‘Christmas presents,’ I said. ‘The instructions were not too big, not too bulky, clothes are a good option, as is alcohol.’
‘Sounds like a standard family Christmas then.’ He took one of the raincoats from me. ‘So, you’re on boring aunty duty?’
‘See?’ I laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I said to Miriam. Normally, I like to pick them up something related to wherever I go in the hope of inspiring them to look at a world outside their own backyard. My wish for them is that they get out and explore, taste, see, touch and live a life less ordinary.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that at all,’ Tom said. ‘In fact, I think it’s wonderful.’
‘I do my best,’ I said. ‘Plus, I feel a little selfish not being there all the time. I know it’s my job and I don’t have to explain this to you, but I’m out and enjoying this crazy planet and they’re stuck behind at home. None of this makes sense, obviously, because we don’t even live in the same country, but do you know what I mean?’
‘No, I absolutely know what you mean. They’re in New Zealand, right?’
‘Ah, see you were listening.’ I gave him a gentle nudge.
‘Why don’t you send them a parcel each to their home address?’ Tom piped up.
‘Sorry?’ I asked, pulling another coat from the rack.
‘Well, it’s just that, even now, my mum sends me a little box of goodies. You know, stuff that’s uniquely home. Sometimes, she even packs a fruitcake in the box if she’s made one. Then when I see her, she’ll give me a small birthday present and, I know this might make me sound like a child, but I kind of love getting those boxes.’
I watched him a moment, watched the memories dance across his face. ‘What other things does she put in there?’
‘Oh, sweets, books she finds in Tesco because apparently I might not find them down here. Once there was a scarf in there that Grandma had knitted. It was this horrible orange thing, but I wear it home to keep her happy. Mostly just sweets though. And who doesn’t love getting stuff in the mail that isn’t a utilities bill? Plus, it’s just kind of sweet.’
‘Let’s do it,’ I said.
‘Yeah?’
I shrugged. ‘It’ll make a nice little something for them to open when they get home, won’t it?’
Over the next half hour, we picked through the food hall, stationery, and food and toys before finding ourselves in Santa’s Grotto. I’d passed it earlier, but had decided
not to go in. An inner-city North Pole, it was a winter wonderland come to life with grown adults dressed as elves for the amusement of children and more gifts as far as the eye could see. We moved aside to avoid being bowled over by children who’d raced ahead of frazzled parents who were still looking for somewhere to park their buggies.
‘Tell me something.’ Tom leaned in as he shifted a too heavy shopping basket from one arm to the other.
I looked at him. ‘Anything.’
‘Really?’ He smirked. ‘Anything?’
‘Possibly.’ I searched his eyes for a clue of what was to come. He gave nothing away.
‘Did your parents take you to see Father Christmas every year?’ He broke the silence a few moments later.
‘Not only that, but my mother dressed my older sister and me in identical outfits. I remember once, my hair was braided so tightly I suspect it was also my first foray into cosmetic surgery.’
It was also the same year my sister ripped the head off my new Barbie doll, about three minutes after I’d unwrapped the box. She liked it more than the one she’d received. She wanted it. I didn’t give it up without a fight. Hence, Decapitation Barbie became a thing. We superglued her head back on, but she was a little stiff after that.
‘I don’t know about you, but I feel like we should continue that tradition.’ Tom looked to me for approval. ‘I mean, minus the creepy matching clothes.’
I turned into him slightly. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I do think so,’ he said. ‘You wanted your photo with Santa, didn’t you? We could always go jump the queue or something hideous like that.’
‘Lead the way.’
All the noise, the sounds, the decorations and fake snow made it a grand spectacle. It was nothing like the shopping centre experiences I’d had in the past, where a limp tree stood in one corner, while an overstuffed Santa sweated bullets in the Australian summer atop a throne Henry VIII wouldn’t give a second chance to.
In the back corner of the room, I spied a big red post box. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d written a letter to Santa, but how could I resist? It was the season for magic, after all, and I’d experienced enough in the last few days to believe maybe luck was on my side this year.
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