‘Over here, smile. Yes, wooork iiit,’ a pap bellows at me the minute I step out of the cab. I manage a weak smile as I remember to lift the ankle-length dress up just enough to make sure that I don’t catch the toe of my sandal in it. I couldn’t bear to fall flat on my face in front of all the people who are milling around up ahead of me. I feel self-conscious with them all gazing in my direction. Everywhere I look there are beautiful people I don’t recognise. Couples. The women in sparkly cocktail dresses and the men in black tuxedos.
‘Ignore them. They’re just for show, they’re not real guests. From some wannabe agency or other. “Permanently resting” actors, most likely.’ Eddie appears at my side, his razor tongue sharpened to perfection as usual.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ I say, relieved to see a familiar face. He looks me up and down and then lets out a whistle of approval.
‘Baby doll, you look fierce,’ he says, clicking his fingers in a Z shape around me. I laugh and hook my arm through his and we make our way up the red carpet and into the foyer that’s crammed with a trillion rose-pink heart-shaped metallic balloons. Just inside the huge glass doors is a huddle of pretend fans, and they’re all waving autograph books and screaming to get our attention. Eddie grabs one of the books, and milking the moment to the max he scrawls his signature before tossing the book back into the crowd. I cringe inside and bat a balloon away from my face, half wishing that I was home alone scoffing a chocolate bar, after all.
‘This is so embarrassing … and how come she’s managed to pull this off in under a couple of months? Weddings on this scale usually take a good year to organise,’ I whisper in Eddie’s ear.
‘Yep, they totes do, but madam gets what madam wants, doesn’t she? Probably had the venue on a retainer from the very first moment she clapped eyes on Ciaran. You know how showy she is, anyway. I think Ciaran’s wealthy parents footed the bill and I guess you can have whatever you want whenever you want … if you chuck enough money at it. Wouldn’t surprise me if One Direction show up and sing a special a cappella Valentine song especially for her,’ Eddie snorts.
‘Really?’ I say, perking up at the prospect of getting close to Harry.
‘Weell … that might be stretching the budget just a little bit, but who knows?’ Eddie shrugs his shoulders. ‘Ciaran didn’t get much of a say, so I guess anything is possible.’
‘Oh I see,’ I reply, thinking how sad, and wondering whether it’s too late to locate Ciaran and shake some sense into him.
‘Anyway, let the show begin,’ he says flamboyantly as he grabs a flute of pink champagne from one of the nearby waiters and makes off towards the glass-domed atrium. Catching my breath, I push my silver clutch bag under my arm and take two glasses of the pink champagne. I know I’m not going to enjoy today so I need all the sustenance I can garner. I take a big gulp of the bubbly liquid and immediately wince as the glands under my ears smart from the shock of the bittersweet liquid. I glance around, noting that there don’t appear to be any other real guests here yet. I finish the flute, so, clutching the other one, I make my way through to the atrium.
The scent from the long-stemmed pink lilies hits my nostrils. There must be at least twenty head-height marble pillars dotted around the perimeter, each displaying a gigantic floral arrangement. To my left there’s an enormous easel detailing the seating plan. I head towards it, eager to see who Tina has sat me next to. As I scan, looking for my name, I feel a hand on my back.
‘Hi there. You’re on the same table as me.’ I spin around and James is standing right in front of me. He looks gorgeous in his creamy white tuxedo with matching bow tie. ‘You look amazing,’ he says, looking me up and down, and then leaning towards me he plants a soft kiss on my cheek. I catch a whiff of his spicy aftershave and wish again that things could have been different.
‘And you don’t look too bad yourself,’ I reply, smiling warmly. There’s an awkward silence and I start bobbing from one foot to the other. I quickly stop when James’s gaze wanders down towards my feet.
‘Nice sandals,’ he says, grinning at me.
‘Thanks.’ I feel like a teenager on her first Valentine’s date. He’s being very complimentary; I feel a bit awkward.
‘Georgie, I was wondering whether, now that we’ve cleared the air between us …’ He looks into my eyes and then pauses momentarily. I wait for him to carry on, curious to hear what he’s about to say. But before he can finish the sentence, Maxine appears unexpectedly from behind one of the flower arrangements, startling me in the process. I grasp the flute as it topples in my hand, just managing to save it from crashing to the floor.
‘Not interrupting anything priiivate, am I?’ she says in an extra breathy voice, lingering on the word ‘private’, as if it’s a rampant rabbit sex toy, and all for her. She slings her crimson chiffon wrap, which has slipped from her shoulder, back into place. Impulsively I spring apart from James, blushing at her innuendo.
‘Georgie, I want to talk to you,’ she continues. She does her pageant smile and my heart sinks. I quickly shake the spilt champagne from the back of my hand before nodding back at her. ‘Away from here.’ She shakes her big hair back and attempts to cock a newly Botoxed eyebrow at me.
She knows!
She knows what happened between Tom and me. And on top of the other secrets she has on me she must have decided it’s tipped the scales. She’s going to sack me. I just know it. It’s one thing being let go as part of a recession-busting revamp, but to be sacked for snogging your boss’s lover – well, it’s unimaginable. And on Valentine’s Day too! Talk about irony. But I can’t believe she’s about to do it here, at a wedding. I brace myself for the showdown that’s bound to come any minute now.
‘Follow me,’ she orders, and I do, deftly batting the wrap from hitting my face as she swings around fast and sashays off, her Agent Provocateur scent wafting behind her like a lethal vapour trail.
‘Sit down,’ Maxine says, as we enter her room. An enormous bouquet of red roses is perched upside down on top of the trouser press, as if it was thrown from the bed opposite. Clothes are strewn all over the floor, so I pick my way through on tiptoe, only just managing to avoid a shocking tangerine-coloured lacy negligee and pair of purple snakeskin cowboy boots.
I wonder who the saucy cowgirl look was for. Was it Walter who kept her company, or maybe it was Tom – or, perhaps, both of them? My mind is racing. Nothing would surprise me any more. A sudden image of Maxine screaming ‘giddy up’ pops into my mind and instantly I cringe at the thought of her riding bareback astride Walter. I can’t even bring myself to imagine the same scenario with Tom taking Walter’s place.
Spotting two chairs over by the window, I reluctantly do as she’s ordered. But instead of adopting her usual towering-above-me position, she sits in the adjacent chair to mine and crosses her legs. I fidget with my clutch bag, unable to make my mind up whether to place it on the table beside me or keep it in my lap. I decide on the latter, figuring it’s better to have something to hold on to.
‘Maxine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea—’ I start, but she promptly flings up a hand. Her eyes are glinting, as if she’s on some weird power trip.
‘Don’t be,’ she says, suddenly changing tack.
‘But, I …’ My voice trembles. Her face softens a little, which only makes my anxiety surge even more. I place the champagne glass down on the floor beside the chair leg and surreptitiously wipe my sweaty palms down the back of my clutch bag. I wish she’d just get on with it.
‘You’re only a couple of hundred short, but no, my mind is made up.’ A couple of hundred. My head is spinning trying to catch up. This must be about the sales figures, and not about my indiscretion with Tom. I allow myself to relax for a moment and let out a small silent sigh of relief as she looks away to slap the wrap into place again. ‘Damn thing. Don’t you just hate wearing these ridiculous outfits?’ She looks me up and down, before wrenching the wrap from her neck and slinging it across the room.
‘Err yes, I suppose so,’ I venture, praying I’ve got it right. Her face has changed now, back to her usual aloof look, and a little shiver trickles down my spine. Maybe I’ve got it wrong then.
‘Do you like working at Carrington’s?’ I swallow hard, wondering why she’s talking about this today, at a wedding. Surely it could have waited until we were at work?
‘Yes, yes of course I do,’ I blurt, taken aback at the directness of her question at such an inappropriate time. Then she fixes her stare on me and I’m forced to look away.
‘Only just recently I haven’t been so convinced. You seem distracted. As if you’d rather be somewhere else.’ She fixes her eyes on mine. I swallow hard.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ I manage to reply, knowing what she’s saying does have a ring of truth to it. I hadn’t realised it had been quite so obvious, though. I have been preoccupied with worrying about Sam, losing Alfie, and thinking about the plan with James and Eddie – never mind fretting about my debts, the necklace, seeing if I might be able to salvage something of my relationship with Dad and everything else that has gone on. The thought of our plan makes me blush and I remember her chilling words about making it her business to know everything. Please don’t let her have found out about it. I don’t think I could bear the backlash.
‘Hmmm, well, if you’re going to be the new floor supervisor then you have to stay focused at all times.’
I snap back to attention.
‘The supervisor?’ Did I hear her right? My pulse quickens. Maybe I’m off the hook after all.
‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve made my recommendations to the board and spoken to HR. It’s all been agreed. Your section is the most popular, which is really no surprise – I mean, who doesn’t love a luxury handbag or three? And you just wait until those Prada and Hermès beauties arrive,’ she smiles, a real smile this time, and one that meets her eyes, and then puts her hand out to me.
‘Well, I … err … don’t know what to say.’ And I don’t. I shake her hand, feeling puzzled at this sudden twist. But then a surge of adrenalin bolts through me. A floor supervisor! Me. I wonder if my salary will increase. This means security. No more worrying and sleepless nights – all of it is mine for the taking. But why do I still feel uneasy and a little deflated? I thought this was what I wanted, but now I’m not so sure.
‘But, James is the floor supervisor,’ I hear myself saying. ‘And he made the most sales, surely the job should still be his,’ I add, desperate to try and make the decision a fair one, made on merit, and then I immediately feel like a naïve idiot for thinking that it was ever about fairness at all.
‘Maybe. But no, like I said, us girls need to stick together. Just tread carefully when you break it to them. You know how tetchy men can get.’
‘Break it to them?’ My stomach turns.
‘Of course. You’re in charge now so you can tell James and Tom they’re no longer required. Redundant. Whatever spin you want to put on it. But it all boils down to the same thing. Just get rid of them.’ She flaps a dismissive hand into the air between us.
‘But, I …’ I gulp. I can’t believe this. Surely HR should deal with this kind of thing? I need to talk to Amy, but then what if Maxine finds out and thinks I’m checking up on her, that I’ve gone behind her back? This is a nightmare. How am I going to tell James he has to leave when I’ve stolen his job out from under him? The thought fills me with dread. It’s like an icy hand clutching at my insides. And Tom? Oh my God, what am I going to say to him?
This is bad. Really bad. And I’m not sure I can do what’s she asking. It just doesn’t make sense – why would she make me a supervisor when James clearly won on the sales, which is what it was supposed to be all about? And he has the experience. Then, for a flash of a second, I feel a stab of guilt. So she wasn’t playing me after all, and I’ve even gone and roped in Eddie to stitch her up. But I saw her with Tom, with my very own eyes. I didn’t imagine it and she definitely answered the phone on that Sunday morning.
Maybe this is her sick way of getting revenge on James for choosing another woman over her, and she’s prepared to sacrifice Tom in the process. God, maybe she does know what happened with Tom and this is her punishment to him for taking their ruse too far. My head is spinning, lurching from one sickening possibility to the other. I just can’t believe it. A sinking feeling cloaks itself around me. If I accept this job then I’ll become a puppet, dancing to her tune forever, with the threat of the strings being cut at any moment. I just don’t know if I can go that far to ensure my financial security.
‘I’ll need your formal acceptance by close of play on Tuesday.’ She jumps up and, grabbing the wrap from the floor, she turns around, flaps her hand behind her backside to indicate that I’m to follow her, and heads towards the door. Once again I scuttle along behind, my mind working overtime.
32
After managing to escape from Maxine, I make my way back into the atrium and take another flute from a passing waitress.
‘Take two,’ she says. ‘Looks as though you could do with it.’ She grins at me.
‘You’re right.’ I smile back gratefully. ‘Thanks.’
There are more people milling around now. A quartet is playing light jazz music and there’s a happy wedding atmosphere. I spot Melissa standing alone near the fire exit and wander over to join her.
‘Cor, you scrub up well,’ Melissa the store detective says, shimmying her ample cleavage which is tethered in, only just, by a lime-green scoop-necked Lycra dress. She’s holding a pint of Guinness.
‘Thanks Mel. How come you’ve got Guinness?’ I ask, eager to engage her in conversation. I can see James standing just a few inches away, chatting to a guy who must be related to Ciaran – he’s the spitting image of him. The job promotion still hasn’t really sunk in, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep it from James. But I have to, at least until I’ve got my head around Maxine’s sneaky plan.
‘Just asked the waiter for it. Shampoo gives me gut-ache.’ She pulls a groaning face.
‘So when do you start your training course?’ I ask, remembering that she handed in her notice last week and is off to become a prison warder.
‘End of the month, and I can’t wait. It’s just not the same at Carrington’s any more,’ she says, downing the last of her pint. I stare at her, pondering on what she’s just said.
‘I know,’ I reply, softly. I know. The thought lingers on.
‘You’ll come to my leaving do though, won’t you? A ten-pint challenge in the Nag’s Head. First one down buys the kebabs on the way home,’ she says, like she can’t wait to get started. I groan at her idea of a good evening and then, just as I open my mouth to reply, Tom, who must have been standing behind me, turns to join us. He’s wearing a beautifully cut black tuxedo, white shirt and loose bow tie. His dark curls are gelled back and he looks just like a Hollywood A-lister at a film premiere. And no matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop my stomach flipping, my groin tingling and my heart racing all at the same time. It’s a mixture of sexual excitement and raw nerves, and there’s no hiding from him.
The atrium is buzzing now with guests. Some of the others from work are here, all necking drinks like there’s no tomorrow. Mrs Grace has just arrived and is busy telling Stan to stop fiddling with his tie. He rolls his eyes and she bats his hand away from his collar before sipping the champagne and wrinkling her nose.
‘Hi Georgie,’ Tom says, letting his gaze linger on me. I feel awkward. It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to me since that moment in Brighton. ‘What’s this about a party?’ He turns to Melissa.
‘My leaving do – you’ll be there, won’t you?’ Melissa says. The atrium is filling up so quickly there’s barely room to move now, and Tom is standing right next to me, my bare arm tantalisingly close against his sleeve.
‘Depends … will Georgie be there too?’ Tom smiles, and I almost choke on my champagne. I can feel my cheeks getting hot. There’s a moment
ary silence.
‘Nice one. You two … right pair of bluffers. Never would have guessed you were at it,’ Melissa broadcasts in a too-loud voice, and treats me to a massive wink before sauntering off in search of a waiter. I’m speechless. I just wish the ground would come back and swallow me up. My whole body is singeing with embarrassment.
‘Sorry about that. It’s Melissa, you know how she is …’ I manage to mutter, not daring to look at Tom. I drain the last of my drink. I can’t move. There are people crammed all around me. There’s no escape.
‘Why are you apologising?’ He manages to turn in the confined space so he’s facing me now. I glance up. He stares straight into my eyes, holding my gaze and not faltering. I gulp, unsure of what to say. Suddenly I wonder where Maxine is – she could be watching us. Then I wonder whether he already knows about my promotion.
‘Well, you know …’ is all I can muster.
‘No I don’t. Please tell me,’ he says, still holding eye contact. I feel sick. I don’t want to have to spell it out to him.
‘Well, after what happened. I mean, I know it was just a kiss and all … but well,’ I babble, waving a hand around and cringing all over.
‘Not for me it wasn’t,’ he interrupts, and my heart actually misses a beat.
‘But you left in such a hurry,’ I stutter. ‘And you’ve been avoiding me ever since,’ I add, desperately trying to regain some composure and control.
‘I haven’t.’ He looks bemused.
‘Yes you have. Just the other day you let the lift go without me. You could have easily waited but you chose not to,’ I say, thinking, there, let’s hear what you have to say about that.
‘I don’t remember, but I’m sorry if I did. It wasn’t intentional. And if I have been avoiding you it’s only because … well, I thought I might have overstepped the mark.’ Sadness clouds his eyes. He looks away.
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