by Ali Harris
The End. Or Almost . . .
Sunday 1 January
357 Shopping Days Until Christmas
‘TEEVEEEE, TEEEEVEEEE!’ Lola and Raffy are tugging at my coat sleeves, desperate to get to the top of the hill so they can try out their brand-new sledge.
Primrose Hill is awash with people dressed in big coats and an array of brightly coloured scarves and hats, braving the elements on this snow-capped New Year’s Day. Chidren are sledging down the hill, screaming with delight, parents are nursing coffees (and hangovers) and desperately trying to get the fresh air to revive them, as am I.
Last night was wonderful, the best New Year’s Eve ever. Rupert threw a party for all of Hardy’s staff at the store: those who work on the shop floor and behind the scenes, as well as Hardy’s most loyal customers. Everyone brought food and drink, and we all sat on long trestle tables wearing Union Jack hats, eating proper old-fashioned food: quiches, coleslaw and cold meats, jelly and ice cream. It was like being at a street party. We played 1940s tea-dance music, and Iris and Felix lead the dancing like complete pros, with Lily giving lessons to those who needed it. At midnight we all stood in a circle as the snow fell outside, tearfully singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’. After all, Hardy’s was an acquaintance none of us wanted to forget – and the good news from Head Office was, after our incredible sales performance in the week leading up to Christmas, now we’d never have to.
Mum came with me last night and we had an absolute ball. She’s been surprisingly good since her discovery of Dad’s affair and he has begged her to come back. He told her he couldn’t live without her, but do you know what? Mum seems to think she can. And good on her, I say. She loves being in London; she’s been looking after Lola and Raffy in the afternoons now that I’m too busy with the store and she adores being able to see her kids and grandchildren regularly, as well as being independent for the first time in her life. She’s even talked about getting herself a job. Delilah has said she’d employ her as a part-time nanny, which I think Mum was considering, until Rupert offered Mum a job out of the blue last night. Apparently, with the financial boost the store has been given by the US company, and our most successful Christmas sales in Hardy’s history, Rupert’s decided he wants to reopen the salon on the top floor. It’s been closed for the past fifteen years, but now he wants someone to manage it. When I told him about Mum he came over and quickly decided she would be ‘perfect’ for the role. Mum was a bit overwhelmed and told him she hadn’t styled hair for years, but Rupert said he wanted her to be in charge of employing staff, working on the reception and being ‘the face’ of Hardy’s salon. To be honest, he couldn’t have chosen better. I mean, if he thinks I’m creative and organized, he hasn’t seen anything yet: Grace Taylor is a force to be reckoned with.
Mum was absolutely thrilled. She said she couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier than being back at Hardy’s. I even said, ‘What about being back with Dad?’ and she laughed and said, ‘We’ll see,’ before downing her glass of champagne.
Delilah’s a bit gutted as Mum would have been the perfect nanny to replace me, but she understands that, more than anything, Mum needs her own life now, and it’s not like Delilah won’t have plenty of time to find another one. After what happened that day at Delilah’s house – God was it only a couple of weeks or so ago? – when I found her in such a state in the bedroom, Mum, Will and I forced her to go to the doctor’s again and tell him exactly how she’s been feeling and he has signed her off work for three months with depression. Delilah and Will are starting marriage counselling next week and Will has decided he’s going to resign from his job in the City to start his own business so he can be more flexible with his work and see more of Delilah and the kids. This whole Mum and Dad thing seems to have really pulled them together and it’s brilliant to see them back to their best. They even managed to throw a memorable Christmas for us all. Delilah was in her element, being able to do it at her home for the very first time. Jonah and Noah came over and even Mum seemed to love the fact that she was off duty for the first time in thirty-odd years.
Only Dad wasn’t there. None of us was quite ready to wish him season’s greetings. It’s going to take some time to forget his behaviour, but knowing my family, I’m sure we’ll get there. We Taylors are a forgiving bunch.
‘C’mon, Teevee, c’MON!’ Lola says as she stumbles up the snow-covered hill again, ready and raring for ride number two.
‘OK, race you, Lola!’ I say, wiping my snow-covered bottom and grabbing Raffy and scooping him under my arm as Lola and I run squealing towards the top of the hill. I wanted to spend today with them because I’m moving into my own place next week. It’s only a cheap little unfurnished studio flat down the road in the far-less-glamorous Kentish Town but I’m so excited because it’s going to be mine. And knowing that I can finally afford it on my new salary is amazing. Because I guess that’s the big news. Since I was unveiled as the creative brains behind Hardy’s Secret Elves, Rupert (who, by the way, very much knows my name now) told me I was wasted in the stockroom and that he wanted me to be the store’s creative director! He said that whilst he is happiest dealing with the financial side of things, and Sharon is great at managing the staff, they needed someone with my creative vision to oversee the store’s brand; which means styling and continuing to develop its overall ‘look’ as well as sourcing products for the store from small local businesses. Because after the success of the WI soaps (they were Hardy’s Christmas bestseller), Rupert wants Hardy’s USP to be that we sell items that other department stores don’t. I even get a budget to travel around the UK to find new, and old, products. Obviously vintage is to be a key selling point, but he also wants new products on the proviso that everything we sell in the store is made and manufactured in Britain. It’s a brilliant idea, so traditionally British and so very Hardy’s.
Oh, and Carly has a new job too! She was called into Rupert’s office after me and told that her role as assistant manager wasn’t working out but that he wanted Carly to be the store’s in-house personal shopping training manager. He said that her flair for understanding customers’ individual style needs and responding to them was a rare talent, and it was one he wanted her to share with every single Hardy’s staff member so that they can all give our customers a uniquely personal service. It’s the perfect job for her and she seems really happy.
Even Felix’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed. He’s back on the shop floor where he belongs as a part-time duty manager. The customers love him, as do the staff. Especially one in particular.
Speaking of which, Lily’s tearoom is making a killing. She’s got some staff now to do all the running around so all she has to do is focus on being a hostess – and she’s the best there is. Everyone thinks so. Since going on breakfast TV to talk about Hardy’s makeovers she’s become quite the local celebrity and really draws the crowds. She’s even writing a book about Hardy’s one-hundred-year history.
I’m panting as we reach the top of the hill again and I drop Raffy down on his feet as I wave towards the two smiling people who have appeared at the top of the hill, holding hands.
‘SAM!’ I shout, waving and feeling my heart pound out of my chest. I am unbelievably nervous about this meeting. I mean, it’s complicated. But then again, life always is, isn’t it?
‘SAAAAM!’ echo Raffy and Lola gleefully, running behind me. They’ve become very fond of Sam over the past couple of weeks and are as anxious to meet his mystery guest as I am.
‘HELLLOOO!’ shouts back Sam as an adorable little 5-year-old girl wearing a bright red coat and cream woolly hat, with a thatch of curly strawberry-blond hair exploding from beneath it, comes tearing over the hill and skids to a halt in front of Lola and Raffy. She is crumpled and cute, and has the same endearing, instantly likeable manner as her dad. She looks a lot like her mum too, Sam’s ex, Ella. They split up a couple of years after Sophie was born but have tried to remain friends for her sake. That’s why I saw them at
Hamleys together that time. They were buying Sophie’s Christmas presents as they don’t want her to be spoiled by getting competitive gifts from them both, like other kids whose parents have split up. And Sam was meant to be looking after Sophie the night of our last pub get-together so that Ella could go to her Christmas party. It’s really admirable how they’ve put aside their differences for her. It’s so grown up of them, and yet they were both only in their early twenties when they had her.
I glance down and see her looking up at me quizzically.
‘Hi, my name’s Sophie and I’m five and a quarter and . . .’ She pauses and then grins toothily at Raffy and Lola, who have been subdued by this confident little girl, before smiling at her dad.
Sam wanders slowly towards us, grinning proudly. He kisses me on the lips and slips his hand into mine before putting his other hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
‘I see you’ve met my Soph, then,’ he says, and I nod and squeeze his hand.
‘She’s just like you,’ I smile and look at them both, not quite believing that this is happening. I’ve been wanting to meet Sophie ever since Sam explained that the other girl in his life wasn’t his girlfriend, but his daughter. Sam decided he wanted to spend as much time with his little girl as possible before she started school, which is why he chose to stick with doing deliveries and not pursue his photography ambitions until now. I’ve got bags of respect for him. He’s given up so much to be the best dad he can be. It’s kind of made me fall in love with him even more, if that were possible.
‘Sophie, sweetie, this is Evie. The one I’ve told you all about,’ and he nudges her gently.
Sophie looks at her dad, then up at me inquisitively, squinting a little as the sun bursts through the powdery clouds. She is silent for a moment but then she smiles broadly and slips her hand into my free one, the one that Sam isn’t holding.
‘WOW!’ she says, gazing up at me wondrously. ‘You’re Christmas Evie? Can you help me meet Santa next year?’
And as we stand holding hands at the top of the hill that’s bathed in the bright, fresh light of the New Year morning, I suddenly feel sure that I’ll never be unforgettable again.
Not to anyone who matters anyway.
Acknowledgements
It often felt like I needed a miracle to make my dream of being an author come true. Turns out I just needed the support of these amazing people.
My utterly brilliant agent, Lizzy Kremer, who took me under her wing, kept my ‘baby brain’ in check (a huge task in itself), told me when my plot ideas were ‘a bit mad’ and made me write, edit and rewrite until I had something good. The words ‘Patience’ and ‘Saint’ spring to mind.
My incredible editor and kindred Christmas spirit, Maxine Hitchcock, for believing in me so wholeheartedly and who ‘got’ the book, even before she’d read a word of it. If there’s a ‘The One’ for editors and authors then you’re most definitely it.
The fab women’s fiction team at Simon & Schuster. I feel so lucky to be led by such passionate and talented people (and who see cupcakes as an essential part of a work meeting!). And to PR guru and King of the San Francisco mini bar, Nigel Stoneman . . . Here’s to many, many more cocktails to come!
To my family: my big sister Jo, who told me to stop waitressing and start writing all those years ago, my endlessly supportive parents who mopped the tears after a million rejections, and not forgetting my super sister-in-law Aime Anderson, my step-mum Sue Harris, and parents-in-law Jan and Andy Southgate. Your love and support means the World.
Special thanks to author and editor extraordinaire, Sam Baker, who gave me my first magazine job and my friend and mentor Adele Parks: you’re both an inspiration.
To my best friends: Emily Friendship, Emily Barnes, Nick Smithers and my unofficial ‘other half’ Ashling McCloy. You’ve been by my side through everything. This is for you. And to Andy, Lee, Jaimes, Matt and Rachel. Richard Curtis couldn’t write about funnier, more inspiring friends than you.
Lastly to my own perfect little family; my gorgeous son Barnaby for giving me the incentive to write a book and for totally stealing my thunder by taking his first steps the day I got my book deal and my divine baby girl Cecily for allowing me to proof read this book with a modicum of sanity when she was just a week old. But most of all to Ben. I don’t know what to say other than you’re better than any romantic hero I could have conjured up in my head. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.
Evie’s Vintage London Address Book
I love living in London and thought it would be nice to give you a little peek into the places that I hang out the most. It should come as no surprise that the places that I know like the back of my hand (Or should that be ‘like Hardy’s stockroom’?) are those hidden treasures nestled in the depths of London’s vast attic of streets, frequented by people who, like me, love looking at the city through sepia-tinted spectacles. So here is my hidden London . . .
Shops
Annie’s Vintage Costume and Textiles
12 Camden Passage, Islington, London
www.anniesvintageclothing.co.uk
I adore this little shop that specializes in gloriously delicate dresses from the 20s and 30s, along with lace slips and fabulous vintage accessories like feather capes and sequined shrugs. Kate Moss is a regular, as are many top stylists and fashion designers. It’s expensive, but if you’re looking for inspiration, like I always am, or searching for something really special like a vintage wedding dress, you’re sure to find it at Annie’s. Take a trip on a Wednesday or Sunday to see the Camden Passage antiques market in full swing, too.
Absolute Vintage
15 Hanbury Street, London
www.absolutevintage.co.uk
If you’re after a pretty pair of peep-toes then come and worship at the vast second-hand shoe shrine at Absolute Vintage. Most of my shoes that I too long kept hidden in The Wardrobe came from here. Just a stone’s throw from Spitalfields market, not only has it got the biggest selection of vintage shoes and handbags in the UK, there’s also bulging rails full of retro dresses, skirts, tops and jackets, not to mention belts and jewellery too. And all at bargainista prices.
What Katie Did
26 Portobello Green, 281 Portobello Road, London
www.whatkatiedid.com
Hardy’s lingerie department manager Jane has been a fan of this place ever since I told her about it – so much so we’re considering stocking their underwear in Hardy’s. Specializing in wonderful faux vintage lingerie, corsets and stockings, it’s a must-go for great undergarments. They even run fascinator workshops if you’re into the Make Do and Mend trend!
Deborah Woolf Vintage
28 Church Street, London
www.deborahwoolf.com
With a veritable treasure trove of ephemera from every era, this fabulous pocket-sized shop, nestled away in North London, specializes in beautiful costume jewellery from the 50s, 60s and 70s and is the perfect place to look for a beautiful statement necklace or accessory. But Deborah doesn’t just stock jewellery, there’s also a wonderful array of clothes, bags and vanity items, as well as toys, vintage prints, pictures and magazines, furniture and textiles and other curiosities. It’s the perfect place to get lost in the past.
Fairs and Markets
Frock Me
Chelsea Town Hall, King’s Road, Chelsea, London
2nd Sunday of every month
www.frockmevintagefashion.com
The first vintage fashion fair in London – and still the best. You’ll be rubbing shoulders with stylists, celebrities and costume designers who all know that this is the vintage fashion fair to frequent in London. So whether you’re after a 1920s flapper dress, a glamorous 1950s Mad Men-esque ensemble or some 80s retro style, this fair is stuffed to the rafters with a cornucopia of collectible clothes from every era.
Primrose Hill Vintage Fashion Fair
Cecil Sharp House, 2 Regents Park Road, London
www.vintagefashionfairlondon.co.uk<
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I can’t mention vintage fashion fairs in London without giving a nod to my (ex-) local event. At just two years old it is a mere baby compared to Frock Me, but don’t let that stop you. Run by Marilyn, who used to own a vintage shop in Battersea called Nostalgia, this wonderful fair is the perfect place to pick up a piece of beautiful vintage clothing. And with Primrose Hill’s famously fashionable residents bound to be in attendance, you’re sure to be in great company.
Alfie’s Antique Market
13-25 Church Street, St John’s Wood, London
www.alfiesantiques.com
Not so much a hidden delight as a well-known wonder, Alfie’s is a regular haunt for all vintage lovers, whether you’re a serious collector or not. Its maze of antiques shops has world-renowned experts selling beautiful 20th century design and collectibles. It’s a must visit and the perfect place for a meander on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
Afternoon Tea
Soho’s Secret Tearoom
Upstairs at the Coach and Horses, 29 Greek St, London
www.sohossecrettearoom.co.uk
Don’t tell Lily, but Sam and I have been known to sneak to this hidden gem for a little afternoon rendezvous when we want a bit of privacy. With its 1940s inspired décor, vintage crockery and delicious array of homemade scones, jams and fairy cakes, this charming, vintage-inspired tearoom appeals to all my romantic imaginings of days gone by.
Drinks & dancing
Bourne and Hollingsworth
