Christmas at Carrington’s

by Alexandra Brown

  ‘Hmm. Doesn’t surprise me.’ Millie purses her lips.

  ‘Why’s that then?’ Sam asks.

  ‘Well, let’s just say that Zara has a lot of “history”.’ Millie leans forward and drops her voice. ‘She has a habit of playing the field.’

  ‘Really?’ Sam and I say in unison.

  ‘Yes, but I tend not to get involved these days. Kelly knows I don’t have time for Zara, not since … ’ Millie’s voice trails off and she looks away, busying herself in the giant make-up box.

  ‘Since what?’ Sam coaxes.

  ‘It was a long time ago, and she was young and … ’ Millie loads up a plump blusher brush, swirling it furiously, round and round inside a pot of bronzing beads.

  ‘And what? What did she do?’ Sam asks, persistently.

  ‘She slept with my boyfriend,’ Millie says flatly.

  ‘Whaaaat?’ I jump in. ‘Oh Millie, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be. Like I said, it was ages ago, and he’s happily married now with two children and living in the Cotswolds. Besides, it takes two. I’m sure he was complicit.’

  ‘So Zara’s a serial cheater then?’ Sam folds her arms. ‘Well, she’d better not come near Nathan.’

  ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score, Sam. Nathan adores you.’ I glance at her in the mirror and she smiles nonchalantly.

  ‘True.’ She takes a sip of champagne. ‘And I adore him.’

  ‘But what about Tom? He can’t marry Zara and end up heartbroken when she has another affair,’ I say, thinking of Mum and how she must have felt that time I overheard her talking to Maeve. And no matter what’s happened between Tom and me, I don’t want to see him make the biggest mistake of his life, potentially, by actually marrying Zara.

  We finish getting ready and make our way downstairs, out through the main hotel exit and over the long windy gravel drive that’s covered by a white canopy. A ruby-red carpet winds a path to the main ballroom, illuminated by a trillion flickering tea lights in glass lanterns. The scent of orange and cinnamon fills the air, creating a warm, sensual atmosphere. Sam slips her arm through mine.

  ‘Deep breaths, honey. Deep breaths. You look fabulous. Every man in this place is going to want you … with whipped cream on,’ she giggles naughtily. I flick my big hair back and smile, pleased that she seems brighter and more like her old self.

  As we get closer to the ballroom, a lively swing version of Jingle Bells wafts towards us in the night breeze. And wow! Michael Bublé is right in front of me. The actual Michael Bublé himself is singing here in the foyer of the Mulberry Grand Hotel. So it’s true, Kelly really is friends with the famous people and, despite my apprehension about the evening ahead, a shiver of excitement radiates though me. Michael winks as we pass by and I can’t help gasping like a proper fan-girl. Sam steps forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek, as if they’re old friends; for all I know, maybe they are, Sam did go to some very exclusive parties over the years with Alfie, but I’m sure she would have mentioned meeting Michael before now. Cameras swerve into action and I’m immediately reminded that tonight is being filmed live purely to entertain the viewers.

  We make it into the ballroom, which is lit up like a theme park, and there’s a woman on stage who’s a dead ringer for Dolly Parton – she even sounds like her too, maybe it is her. She’s singing the funky version of the ‘Working Nine To Five’ theme tune from Kelly Cooper Come Instore. At one end of the room, there’s a full-size carousel. Lauren, Doris and Suzanne from the cash office are laughing as they glide round and round and up and down, clinging onto poles in the centre of brightly painted wooden horses. There’s also a snow slide – Melissa is sitting in a rubber tyre at the top, looking eager to descend. Next to the slide is a Santa’s grotto, inside a gingerbread house that looks as if it’s actually made from real gingerbread, apart from the front door that’s been created from a trillion striped candy canes.

  We’re handed flutes of pink champagne as a photographer takes our picture.

  ‘Darlings, there you are.’ It’s Eddie and he looks as if he’s channelling Brad Pitt at a film premiere in a sleek black tuxedo and gold-framed aviator shades, only years younger – and on closer inspection it appears as if he’s had more work around his HD eyebrows and gloss-coated lips. Pussy is perched regally in the crook of his elbow wearing a mini crimson taffeta ballgown, complete with sparkly tiara on her fluffy head and a diamanté choker around her neck. I stroke her ear and she preens into the palm of my hand.

  ‘Is this nail varnish?’ I ask, touching one of Pussy’s paws. Her claws are painted a glittery silver colour.

  ‘Of course. Pussy wanted to look her very best; this is one of her Christmas outfits.’

  ‘One?’ I ask, bemused and grateful for the distraction – anything to put off the moment I have to see Tom. I was barely able to keep it together when I spotted him in the street that night, so what’s it going to be like watching him with Zara, his fiancée?

  ‘That’s right. She can’t be expected to make it through the whole festive season with just one measly gown. No, a girl needs a selection sweetie. A se-lection!’ Eddies waves his free hand in the air flamboyantly, elevating his diva status a notch further. He kisses the air either side of my head before stepping back to get a better look. He lets out a long whistle. ‘Sensational. Truly sensational. And you must come and meet Will.’ He gestures towards a giant snowman-shaped ice luge to the left of one of the three cocktail bars. Will.I.Am is actually here, chatting to Kelly, and he looks hot in a long trench coat and woolly hat over silver T and black combat trousers. Annie is hovering near him and, on spotting me, she does a silent scream and points to Will’s back before placing a hand over her heart and making kissy lips.

  ‘Is it really him?’ I ask, in a ridiculously breathy voice.

  ‘Of course it is,’ Eddie replies casually, as if it’s an everyday occurrence to be mingling with world-famous superstars. ‘But honeypie, you might want to reunite your jaw with the rest of your face and tone down that whole fan-girl thing you have going on.’ He flashes me a look before whizzing an index finger in a Z-shape around me.

  ‘Oh I’m sooo sorry, Ed, I wouldn’t want to cramp your style now,’ I laugh and nudge Sam. She gives Eddie’s cheeks a quick tweak.

  ‘Stop it! Must you be quite so gauche?’ he says, batting her hands away. He quickly adjusts his bow tie and grabs a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. I’ll come back for you two when you’ve calmed down. Considerably.’

  I down my drink and cast a furtive glance through the crowd, wondering if Tom is actually here yet.

  ‘Relax, will you?’ Sam mouths, giving me a nudge.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ I say, nerves making my voice sound trembly.

  ‘Well try. You want to look poised and breezy, not anxious and scorned.’

  We finish our drinks and hand the empty glasses to a waiter. ‘Now follow me,’ Sam commands, taking my hand and delving into the crowd.

  We emerge at the other end of the room near a crimson velvet-covered stage and next to an enormous real pine Christmas tree, swathed in silver tinsel and pink diamanté-encrusted baubles.

  ‘Let’s duck in here and take a breather before we hunt Tom down,’ Sam says, but before I can protest that I don’t actually want to ‘hunt Tom down’ – I was hoping we might just casually bump into him, preferably without Zara in tow, and then I can confront him over letting my lovely Carrington’s go – she pushes open a door and drags me in behind her. And I gasp. It takes me a few seconds to acclimatise. The whole room is dazzling. Brilliant white. Fake snow is swirling all around us; even the floor is covered so we’re knee deep in soft, twinkly flakes.

  ‘Oh wow,’ Sam breathes, ‘a proper snow room! Come on, let’s get involved.’ She runs into the middle of the room making the snow flurry and flutter, whipping around the room. It’s like being inside a giant snow globe. Flakes flick into my eyes
, my mouth, my hair – I can even see them on the ends of my eyelashes. It’s incredible. I follow Sam, pleased to see her happy, and she grabs my hands and twirls me around, faster and faster, until neither of us can sustain it any longer and we collapse on the floor laughing. Sam is the first to recover and manages to scrabble herself into a standing position, just about; she’s slipping and sliding as she struggles on her heels while trying not to trip on her dress. She reaches out a hand and I manage to haul myself up onto my feet. But at the last minute, I lose balance, and my left Loub skates away from me and I end up doing a Bambi impression before landing back on the floor in a sideways splits position with Sam toppled over on top of me.

  ‘Jesus Christ, I’ve think I’ve ripped myself in two,’ I bellow as a searing pain cuts right though me. Sam is cracking up as she rolls over to the other side of the room, where she lies on her back, hoists her dress up and starts doing snow angels. I’m on all fours now and wading over to her. Snowflakes are making it near on impossible to see – they collect in my mouth, I spit them out and keep wading, tossing my big hair back over my shoulder as I go. I’ve just made it over to Sam when a sudden gust of ice-cold air blasts down on us, making me gasp; the sheer force of the wind knocks me sideways and I end up in a heap next to Sam who stops moving and curls herself into a ball beside me. A deafening noise makes it near on impossible to communicate. We cling to each other, the wind whipping around us, with me desperately trying to keep my flimsy skater dress about my body, when Sam manages to gesture upwards.

  I follow her line of vision and oh my actual God. Black night sky is above us. Stars. The moon. The ceiling has disappeared. Walls too. A helicopter is hovering above us, and two giant television screens are broadcasting Sam and me, writhing around on the ground like a pair of crazy loopers with fake snow rotating all around us, tornado-style. LIVE. To the whole world … if you count all those ex-pat satellite viewers in places like the Costa del Sol, and hotels and laptops. And I just know this is going to end up on YouTube. Global. My hits will be stratospheric. I officially want to die, right now, spooning my best friend in a perishing cold field while my new Father Christmas-themed knickers, which have the phrase ‘ho-ho-ho’ emblazoned all over them, are projected up onto the big screen.

  Fifteen minutes later, and Sam and I are huddled together in tartan blankets with Millie in 107. And I’m still cringing all over. It turns out that it wasn’t a snow room at all. Oh no! No no no no no! It was a flaming helipad behind the ballroom that KCTV had put a marquee over and filled with snow to be whipped away by a giant pulley, creating a dramatic James Bond-esque arrival scene for Mr Carrington, aka Tom. It was him in the helicopter. So when Tom actually landed, the first glimpse he got was of me curled up on the helipad with my dress whipping at my midriff and my big hair puffing around my head like I’m some kind of freak with her finger stuck in a plug socket for laughs. He didn’t actually speak to me, or anything; no, it was just a horrified glance as he strode past with the film crew.

  There’s a knock on the door. It’s Eddie.

  ‘O-M-A-G.’ He plonks Pussy on the bed, puts his arms around us both to draw us into a big group hug. ‘You sure know how to make a dramatic entrance. Everyone is talking about it. Even Will said you two were “dope”.’ He breaks away to do quote signs with his fingers. ‘Kel is practically hyperventilating, she’s so thrilled. Apparently, the whole scene went viral in under ten minutes. You’re international, sweet pea.’

  ‘Oh stop it, please,’ I say, dying a little more inside.

  ‘So you’re not outraged by our behaviour then, Eddie?’ Sam says, shaking her blanket off and brushing down her dress. She sits down and Millie touches up her make-up.

  ‘Au contraire. You give exceedingly good visual,’ he sniffs, like he’s been in the television industry his whole life, and not a mere few weeks.

  ‘Right. That’s you restored. Now it’s Georgie’s turn.’ Millie gives me a despairing up-and-down glance, as if she’s wondering where to start first. I have mud on my bare legs and my make-up has melted into a ghoulish mask. ‘Hmm, I may have to give you an up-do,’ she says, with a fleeting look of panic in her eyes as she inspects my hair, which resembles a matted nest. I’ve even lost a whole chunk of hair extensions, so I now have a weird, conical-shaped head.

  I’m back at the entrance to the ballroom with a glass of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other. I take a bite and wish I hadn’t, before surreptitiously depositing it in a pot containing a miniature Christmas tree with silver frosting. Zara is standing beside the luge looking stunning in a sheer Stella McCartney dress that clings to her perfect siren figure. She shakes her glossy mane around for a bit while I scan the room and tentatively pat my high bun, wondering where Tom is; expecting him to be beside her, but I can’t see him.

  ‘He’s over there,’ Sam whispers in my ear and points discreetly in the other direction. And then I spot him. He’s wearing a midnight blue tuxedo, the crisp white shirt complementing a perfect, caramel-coloured tan. His curly black hair is a little longer than before, gelled back, making him look just like a gorgeous Hollywood star; after everything that’s happened, my heart still flutters and my pulse quickens. He looks so charismatic and charming – the perfect, quintessential, tall dark handsome man. A group of girls are hovering around him, laughing and flicking their hair. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Sam says.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, Zara on one side of the room and Tom on the other, and I’m not sure I’d like it if Nathan was surrounded by a group of flirty girls.’ I ponder on what Sam has said, and I suppose it is a bit strange, but before I can analyse further, the music stops and Kelly is up on the stage with a spotlight on her, and oh my God, she’s calling out my name. My cheeks burn and my heart pumps into overdrive. I quickly finish my drink and turn to leave but a camera is blocking my exit.

  ‘Georgie. Where are you?’ Kelly booms into a microphone, and suddenly there’s a spotlight beaming down on me and the music peters out. ‘Come on now, no need to be camera shy, not after your earlier performance … which was spectacular, by the way.’ A round of applause circuits the room. ‘Bring your friend, then we can thank you both properly,’ she finishes, before grabbing two giant bouquets from a production assistant who’s standing just offstage.

  Everyone, except Zara, is clapping as we reluctantly make our way towards the stage. I’m willing my cheeks to stop flaming. I catch Tom’s eye in my peripheral vision and I swear a fleeting look of amusement hovers on his face before he turns back to charm the groupies. Grrreat! So now he thinks I’m a ridiculous novelty act as well as a stalker.

  ‘I’m right behind you,’ Sam says, grabbing my hand. We make it to the stage and are shooed up the steps by Hannah, clutching a clipboard and doing her manic smile.

  ‘Stand on the cross,’ she hisses after me, and as if on autopilot I do as I’m told. Sam is next to me.

  ‘Ho ho ho … ’ Kelly nudges me and winks, laughing as if it’s the most hilarious joke she’s ever told in her entire life. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the star of Kelly Cooper Come Instore.’ She grabs my hand and flings it up in the air. A camera zooms in. ‘And her friend, err … ’

  ‘Sam,’ I quickly prompt, leaning into Kelly’s microphone. I can’t believe she forgot Sam’s name, especially after the whole One Born Every Minute request, but Sam smiles graciously and does a little curtsy to the Carrington’s crowd before flinging her arms around my neck and giving me a squeeze.

  ‘Just smile,’ she whispers reassuringly in my ear before we break apart. Leo darts across the stage to swiftly pin miniature microphones onto our dresses.

  ‘Speech. Speech,’ Kelly says, clapping again, and the crowd starts chanting my name. Saliva drains from my mouth as I look around – Mrs Grace is standing in front of the stage wearing a sparkly fascinator and clapping her bony hands high above her head. Annie is next to her looking gorgeous in an emerald green playsuit. She looks really happy as she
leans back against the chest of an incredibly fit-looking, muscly guy. He has a curly wire hanging from his ear and Will is standing behind him – Security! Must be.

  I swallow hard and try to think of something sensible to say.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mutter, dropping my chin to talk directly into the microphone. ‘And, err … Happy Christmas everyone,’ I add, breathing a sigh of relief, and then promptly ruin it by doing a ridiculously feeble little wave. I look back up and see Zara in my peripheral vision. She’s staring me out. I shudder. What is her problem?

  ‘Bravo. Simple and understated,’ Kelly says, kissing my cheek. ‘And how about a word from our other star, Mr Carrington himself.’ She scans the crowd. ‘Ahh, there you are.’ She points at Tom. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Toooom Carrington. Whoop whoop!’ With both hands, Kelly pummels an imaginary punchbag high above her head.

  What’s she doing? Oh my actual God. Tom is coming towards the stage. He’s mounting the steps. He’s within touching distance. He’s got the irresistible smile in place. His arm brushes against my back as he walks past, making my stomach flip and my cheeks flame. I dart a look at Zara and her eyes narrow.

  ‘A few words, if you don’t mind, Tom. Tell our audience at home a little more about your adventures in Paris, New York and the Christmas capital of the world, Lapland,’ Kelly swoons, nuzzling into him. Tom coughs discreetly and waits for Leo to fit a microphone onto his lapel. Sam edges closer to me and I just know she’s thinking the same – yes, why don’t you tell us aaaalll about it, Tom? NOT!

  He takes a step forward. Oh God. This is hideous. I’m going to have to stand here in front of all the Carrington’s staff, and the viewers at home, and listen to the man I thought was my perfect one go on about the fabulous time he had with other women. And what if he starts on about Zara – talks about their wedding plans, and all that?

  ‘Firstly, I’d like everyone to raise their glasses and join me in congratulating Kelly on producing such a fantastic programme.’ He pauses to allow a resounding, ‘hear hear!’ from everyone. Mrs Grace is even high-fiving the air and whooping, she’s that thrilled. ‘But most of all, I’d like to thank all of you. The wonderful Carrington’s team that make our department store such a fantastic place to shop. And with the new pet spa, the ice rink and the refurbished personal shopping suite, not to mention all of the other changes that Kelly and her team have introduced – well, I’m thrilled to say that our latest figures are looking extremely healthy indeed. I think we may have managed to turn things around—’