Sam grabs the remote control and quickly presses a button to make the screen go black, before she’s off the sofa and giving me a hug.
‘I think we’ve seen enough,’ she says, squeezing me tight.
‘Well, that settles it then. If Mr Carrington can go on dream dates and hook up with exes, then why shouldn’t you?’ Eddie huffs indignantly, before putting his arms around me as well to make a group hug. He pulls back to look me in the eye and Sam does too. ‘Let him see you whooping it up for a change.’
Sam nods in agreement.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, find yourself another man and flaunt him honey. F-L-A-U-N-T! It’s the only way.’ Eddie states.
‘Like I said before Eddie, that’s not my style – I’m not just going to flit between Tom and James. Besides, James is seeing someone.’
‘No he isn’t, that’s old news – Vicky is back with her ex. Flashing an engagement ring around too, she was, in the staff canteen just the other day.’
‘That’s nice,’ I murmur, feeling like a sad old sack all of a sudden. Vicky is years younger than I am. And Sam’s married, Eddie is settled down, and now even Dad seems to have found himself someone new. What’s wrong with me that I can’t even find a decent steady boyfriend and keep hold of him?
‘Anyway, it doesn’t have to be James if you don’t want to go there again. It can be anyone. Think of the end-of-show wrap party – you really don’t want to turn up all on your Bridget Jones, not when Tom might have the Brazilian goddess in tow, or worse still, that man-stealer, Zara!’ Eddie purses his lips. ‘I knew she was up to no good.’
I down the last of my drink and press my fingernails into the palm of my hand to stem the tears that are threatening, knowing that Zara isn’t really a ‘man–stealer’ as Eddie says. Tom has a mind of his own; he must have at least wanted to be ‘stolen,’ to be with someone else, I can’t imagine she forced him to be with her against his will. So, it really looks like we’re over, then. Properly over. I don’t believe it. I had been holding out for it to be just a horrible misunderstanding, heat of the moment brought about circumstance, and giving him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t take my calls – telling myself he was just busy working and travelling. No time to himself. But I guess, deep down, I knew it was a fabrication. He wanted to call it a day, and now he’s moved on – or, more accurately, backwards … to his childhood sweetheart, with a beautiful Brazilian goddess on the side.
12
It’s Thursday and Annie is at the laser clinic, so I’m here behind the counter on my own and I can’t stop thinking about last night’s show. After Sam and Eddie left, I watched it again. And again. And again. I’m obsessed! I searched for clues to the seriousness of their relationship – scanning Tom’s face; I even freeze-framed a couple of shots of them on the horse just to see the look in Tom’s eyes – but I really can’t be sure if he’s into her or not. It’s driving me insane. And if he is, then why is Zara in New York? Tom must have invited her, or at least know she’s there; he could have put a stop to it, but he hasn’t, so he’s obviously fine with it. Happy about it, most likely. They could have been planning it for weeks – no wonder she was offish with me in his office … She already had her sights on him and didn’t want me hanging around, getting in her way. And then it dawns on me! I can’t believe I didn’t see it – of course, it all makes sense now, that’s why he was so quick to call it a day, to make way for Zara! I just made it easier for him by being so cross about my embarrassing debut on TV. I take a deep breath in a desperate attempt to stop my mind from spinning out of control with all the horrible possibilities.
And I feel like I’m in a goldfish bowl, with everyone watching me. There was a group of girls huddled by the staff entrance this morning when I arrived at work, one of them asked for my autograph and wanted to know a) where my new boots were from. She didn’t look impressed when I said River Island, and that they were a bargain in last winter’s sale, and b) is it true that Eddie is my GBF? And if so, then I’m the luckiest girl alive, apparently, and can I tell him that she’s set up a fan page for him on Facebook, and it already has four hundred and ninety-three ‘Likes’.
When I eventually made it to the staff room and changed the fleece-lined boots for my usual New Look heels, I overheard someone behind the lockers giggling about the bookmaker’s over the road from Carrington’s. Apparently, they’re taking bets on who Mr Carrington, aka Tom, will turn up with at the end-of-show wrap party – Valentina or Zara. No mention of me! Of course, they stopped talking when they realised I was there. I feel like such a fool, with people whispering and skulking around me.
I’m rearranging the Michael Kors display when Eddie appears; poking his head through the back of the open shelf unit, in between an oversized clutch and a signature monogrammed tote.
‘Cheer up, dollface. I have news,’ he says, quickly repositioning the bags back into place before darting around to stand opposite me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re going on a date! It’s all organised.’ Eddie looks charged.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I head back to my counter and start shoving cocktail rings into their rightful slots in the tray – ‘I wish the customers wouldn’t mess around with them,’ I mutter angrily to myself, then suddenly feel paranoid that KCTV might have a lip reader watching me. You never know. I remember the row of little TV monitors in Tom’s office. It’s like being in a giant bubble, or a series of Big Brother without the audition or psychiatric evaluation first.
‘Oh don’t be like that, there’s nothing wrong with diving straight back into the dating pool to get you over a messy split.’
‘Do you have to sound like a trashy tabloid? Besides, I might not want to get “over a messy split”, as you so dramatically put it.’ I stop sorting the rings to look him in the eye.
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because … well, just because,’ I say, feeling confused and unsure. I don’t really know what to think any more. I’ve got so many things whizzing around inside my head. ‘Anyway, I can’t talk now, customers to serve.’ I nod towards a loved-up couple, holding hands and sharing a joke, as they browse through the purses. A dart of longing shoots through me; they look so cosy and happy in love, and looking forward to a romantic Christmas together. And I still can’t believe that that was me, too, not so very long ago.
‘OK. But you must come and see me later. It’s vital.’ Eddie gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and heads towards the staff lift.
‘Maybe,’ I call out, as I walk towards the couple.
Later, on my lunch break, I push open the door to the anteroom outside Tom’s office. Eddie isn’t at his desk, but he can’t be far away, as Pussy is lying on her bed under the desk, dressed up in a Little Bo-Peep outfit. I decide to wait. She stretches majestically and then nuzzles my leg before spinning in a circle on seeing me. I scoop her up and snuggle in, grateful for a cuddle.
I’m hovering by the Christmas tree when I hear voices in Tom’s office. The door is ajar. I sidle closer and peep through the gap. Kelly is sitting at Tom’s desk, as if she owns the place – she even has her jingle-jangly feet up next to a laptop in front of her. I think she must be on a Skype call as there’s a female voice coming from the laptop, saying something about a hotel with underground parking. I wonder if Kelly is lining up her next series. Perhaps when she’s done with Carrington’s, she plans on filming in a hotel. But just as I lean in closer, the door slams shut. I instinctively clutch Pussy to me and jump back before ducking behind the tree out of sight, wishing my cheeks would stop burning. How embarrassing if Kelly actually caught me snooping. I wonder if she would insist on me being sacked, just like those people from the cruise ship in her last series.
‘Oh there you are.’ Eddie comes into the anteroom, bottom first, pushing the door open, and carrying a plate with two enormous cream horns on. ‘Hope you’re hungry. I’ve been all over looking for you. That girl from Linge
rie, the one who’s covering your section, said you were in Sam’s café, but then Sam said she hadn’t even seen you today,’ he puffs excessively, as if he’s just run a half-marathon. ‘Here, pull up a chair and tuck in, this will cheer you up. Everyone loves a horn.’ He sniggers and gestures to the cakes. After placing Pussy back in her bed, I take one of the cakes and lick the gooey cream before sitting down opposite his desk.
‘Mmm, thanks,’ I say, biting off the bottom of the cake, savouring the sweet sensation on my tongue. ‘Sooo, why do you want to see me? And before you start, I’m not going on a blind date.’
‘But you must, it’s all arranged, and besides, it won’t be a “blind date” as such.’ He scoops some cream onto his fingertip for Pussy, who laps it up and then works off the sugar rush by hurtling around his office, the hem of her Little Bo-Peep dress flapping wildly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Weell.’ His eyes dart from side to side. ‘It will be with me!’ he says triumphantly.
‘Don’t be silly.’ I crease my forehead.
‘That’s right. And … ’ He looks shifty now.
‘Who?’ I give him a nudge with my foot.
‘An actor.’
‘Nooo!’ I cross my legs and lean back in the chair. I know where this is leading – straight to YouTube.
‘But it’s all part of the show. Hannah was chatting about it and, well, Kelly is insistent. And we don’t want to upset her now, do we? She’s going to make us stars, plus you’d be doing me a massive favour.’
‘How come?’
‘I’m going to propose to Ciaran … on camera!’
‘Wow! Really? How romantic. But will Ciaran like that?’ I ask, knowing how he hates the limelight, in complete contrast to Eddie.
‘Absolutely. And he’s definitely going to say yes,’ Eddie states, swinging one leg over the other and looking very pleased with himself.
‘He is? But how do you know?’ I frown.
‘We’ve talked it all through – planned it out, if you like,’ he says, nonchalantly.
‘Doesn’t sound as romantic now.’ I polish off the last of my cream horn. ‘And isn’t Ciaran already married?’ I ask, remembering his disastrous wedding day to Tina. She used to work here in the cash office, and was after Ciaran’s money. He married her because he wanted to ‘fit in’ and, well, it’s a long story, but anyway, he’s come out now and is definitely gay and definitely committed to Eddie, even if the majority of his devout Irish Roman Catholic family refuse to talk to him any more.
‘Oh, but it totally is. We’ve been thinking about it ever since Ciaran’s annulment came through, and I guess when you meet your one, you just know … ’ I glance away and fiddle with my big hair. ‘Oops, so sorry, lover. Didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound.’ Eddie darts out from behind his desk to give me a hug.
‘Don’t be, I’m made up for you, really.’ I manage a wry smile.
‘Fabulous. And the most amazing bit of all – KCTV are going to film the wedding and pay for it all, natch. They’re talking Vegas babeeee. I can just imagine it all now, the Bellagio Hotel fountain and fireworks as a backdrop with a rodeo of topless cowboys, ooh … it’s going to be such a treat; maybe Liza Minnelli will swing by and belt out a show tune for us.’ He claps his hands together. ‘You’ll be my best girl, won’t you darling?’
‘Err, yes. Guess so,’ I say, quickly followed by, ‘Sorry, I’d be honoured to.’ I don’t want to spoil his moment. It’s not his fault I’m a dating disaster.
‘So why the long face then?’
‘Ed, are you sure about this?’ I ask, wondering what KCTV will want in return, and what if they fiddle with the filming? Who knows what they might do?
‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Well, it just doesn’t seem … very special. It’s almost as if you’re only doing it for the show. You know, to be on telly. It won’t be private, and think of all the viewers watching.’ I’d much rather have a romantic, intimate ceremony with just close friends and Dad there to give me away. But then I guess everyone’s different. I allow myself a moment to fantasise before snapping back to reality, because with my relationship track record, I’m far more likely to end up a wizened old woman, all on my own.
‘Exactly! Such a fabulous opportunity. And Ciaran agrees – why have boring old Mulberry-On-Sea register office when we can have OK! magazine?’ He makes big eyes. ‘Kelly reckons we’ll easily get a six-page spread, and they’ll pay us thousands for exclusivity.’ He laughs, and I can’t resist smiling at how he has it all worked out. ‘Now, let me tell you about this actor. In fact, I think you’ve already met him—’
‘Nooo way,’ I cut in. ‘If it’s the Chloé bag guy, then definitely not.’
‘OK, OK, don’t shoot the messenger. Hannah did mention another guy – the sound bloke, big hair with big matching microphone apparently. Oo-err, wonder if that’s some kind of euphemism.’ Eddie smoothes an eyebrow and does kissy lips in my direction.
‘Leo?’
‘Yep, that’s him.’ I shake my head emphatically and Eddie’s shoulders droop, his bottom lip too. ‘Georgie, flower, why not? It’s not like Tom’s here to mind.’ I give him a look. ‘Sorry, only joking kiddo. Oh purlease do it. All you have to do is walk into a bar with him, to make the scene look more authentic. Kelly said it would be dull for the viewer if I’m just sitting there with Ciaran, when he’s not even part of the show. And this is my chance to be really famous – get a free, fabulous wedding to the love of my life. Kelly might not go for it otherwise, you know how she rates you as the real star of the show. And you never know, it could spark something off. Maybe Leo’s your one … ’ I flash him another look. ‘Your other one!’ he quickly adds, before nodding and smiling enthusiastically, almost maniacally.
‘It won’t spark something off, as you say. Anyway, Leo’s not my type.’ I wonder if I would have been better off flogging washing machines down in the basement after all. I make a mental note to check with Amy. On second thoughts, I don’t want to annoy Kelly and end up getting sacked or something, like those sailors did. Probably best to suck it up. I’ll just make sure I steer clear of ladders from now on and do everything I can to not look like an idiot during filming. Plus, I’m really looking forward to doing the magazine column. I went through the goody bag and there must have been over thirty items inside. And Hannah cornered me in the staff canteen earlier to say that one of Kelly’s VIP friends has invited me to a red carpet event in London – the opening of a new cocktail bar. I just have to turn up and make sure the paparazzi snap me. Then share a few cocktails with the owners inside and give a short glowing review to a journalist. I’ll be paid four thousand pounds – I nearly passed out by the help-yourself salad bar when she told me that. Anyway, it’s all very exciting – but if I don’t do what Kelly wants, then that would all disappear in an instance.
‘Might make Tom wake up … ’ Eddie adds slowly, in a perky, persuasive voice, and changing tack now. ‘Nothing like another man on the scene to make you want someone and, trust me, honey, I should know.’ Eddie folds his arms and tilts his head to one side.
‘Hmm, let me ponder,’ I say, taking it all in. I think of the betting shop over the road. Valentina or Zara! And with only six weeks until the wrap party on Christmas Eve, I need to find a date – if only to save face. I couldn’t bear it if Tom walked in with Zara all over him, or Valentina or, worst still, both. Or all three of them crammed onto a horse with Bonnie belting out a power ballad in the background. And nothing would surprise me any more in this crazy, real-but-made-up world, I’ve found myself living in.
13
Six shopping weeks until Christmas
‘OK everyone, listen up. Change of plan. For today’s filming, we’ve got some real customers spending their own money, hopefully – Kelly’s friends down from London, special VIP guests mingled in with the actors – to liven things up a bit. Viewers love a bit of glitz. So be nice, and remember … keep it real.’
We’re in the staff canteen waiting to start filming, and one of the production assistants is shouting out instructions from over by the soup urn. Everyone is here. Mrs Grace is sitting next to me, wearing a Wedgewood-blue trouser suit with a jaunty chiffon scarf knotted at the side of her neck. Millie has made her up with flattering, youthful pastels and her beehive has been replaced with a feathered crop. She looks just like Julie Andrews.
Someone shouts out ‘tits and teeth’ and we all laugh, even me – I’ve decided to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of goody bags, red-carpet events and magazine columns, and nobody likes a misery. And I might meet someone else; I don’t want to be like I was after the split from Brett, single for nearly two years, not when everyone else is settling down. And I certainly don’t want to end up an old spinster – alone, with a feline family and a motorised scooter to look forward to. Plus Eddie and Sam have a point: what will Tom think if he sees me with another man? He’s not the only one in demand now – I’ve had seven Facebook PMs from guys wanting to date me after seeing the show. Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose, especially as I haven’t had a reply to the text message I sent him after watching last week’s show for the trillionth time. It was late, I was home alone and I’d been at the buck’s fizz. I caved in and sent a message saying:
I miss you so so so sooo sooooooooooooo much, but see that you’ve moved on. I hope you’re very happy Dirty Harry ps – Mr Cheeks really misses you too!!!!
I shrivel every time I look at it. What was I thinking? It sounds desperate, and sarcastic and ridiculous, and why-oh-why did I have to mention his great grandfather, Dirty Harry? Everyone in Mulberry-On-Sea knows what a philanderer he was, I may as well have just come out with it and called Tom a two-timing snake, even though I don’t have concrete proof as such, like an actual televised snog or whatever. And it’s hardly the way to win back his heart, by insulting him and stalking him like an infatuated schoolgirl. I sent the message seven times. Epic cringe!
Christmas at Carrington’s Page 13
