The Perfect Christmas. Kate Forster

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terminal at Heathrow was manic and Maggie felt overwhelmed at the sight of so many people and the paparazzi training their lenses on her.

      ‘I thought we might have avoided this,’ muttered Maggie as she pushed her luggage on a trolley and considered putting on her sunglasses to stop being blinded by the camera flashes.

      ‘Fat chance,’ said Zoe. ‘Sadly, I think the media here are more relentless than the ones back home. The airline staff tip off the media as to who is on their flights.’

      ‘Bastards!’ hissed Maggie.

      The yelling and questions came at her like bullets.

      ‘Why aren’t you spending Christmas with Will?’

      ‘Have you left Will?’

      ‘Are you having an affair?’

      ‘Are you and Zoe lesbians?’

      Maggie started to laugh as they got to the waiting car, sent from the hotel, and she and Zoe slipped inside onto the leather seats.

      ‘If I was a lesbian, I’d totally buy you a drink,’ she said to Zoe.

      ‘And if I was a lesbian, I’d dump your sorry ass, I don’t date actresses,’ quipped Zoe.

      As the car pulled away, leaving the flashing cameras in the distance, Maggie leaned back on her seat.

      ‘That was stressful,’ she sighed.

      Zoe was flicking through her phone, then typing furiously.

      ‘Don’t worry, Victoria Beckham or the Jolie-Pitts will land and you’ll be all but forgotten.’

      ‘Gee, thanks,’ said Maggie half-jokingly as Zoe typed and swiped and sighed at whatever was on her screen.

      Maggie watched her for a while. ‘You’re a shit life partner, you’re married to your work, not me,’ she said jokingly.

      Zoe shrugged, ‘This is why I’m alone, there isn’t a man in LA who can keep up or put up with my pace.’

      Maggie nodded. ‘I hear you.’

      The car drove into the city centre and Maggie watched the evening lights start to flicker on, the Christmas lights twinkling and people hurrying home from work in the encroaching darkness.

      ‘God, I love this city,’ she said to herself. Maggie had spent some time in London, usually on a press junket and once filming, but never just for her own pleasure.

      Driving over the Westminster Bridge, Big Ben struck six and Maggie thought she might cry with happiness.

      ‘Now all I need is Peter and the Darling children to fly over us and I will be in heaven,’ she said as she turned to Zoe.

      But Zoe was now on the phone and Maggie tried very hard not to be upset.

      ‘You’re missing it,’ she hissed to Zoe, who waved her hand at her as though she was a fly.

      Maggie ignored her and went back to looking at the passing entertainment. So many different people, all looking like they had something to go home to, and Maggie put her hand up against the cold glass of the window.

      What did she have to return to after this trip? she wondered.

      The car pulled up in front of the hotel and the driver jumped from it as a valet opened the door.

      ‘Welcome to The Dorchester,’ he said with a polite smile.

      ‘Hi,’ said Maggie as she shivered in her thin coat. ‘God, it’s freezing! Is it going to snow?’ she asked him.

      ‘There is snow predicted,’ he said and Maggie grabbed Zoe’s arm.

      ‘Snow, did you hear that? Snow is predicted.’

      ‘You hate the snow,’ said Zoe, shaking her head.

      ‘I hate American snow, I love British snow,’ corrected Maggie, as she stepped inside the hotel.

      A young brunette woman in a neat navy suit was smiling at them, her hands clasped in front of her.

      ‘Good evening, I’m Holly. I’m your personal concierge while you stay with us,’ she said.

      Maggie picked up just a hint of nerves in the pretty girl’s voice. ‘Holly? What a perfect Christmas name,’ she said. ‘I’m Maggie and this is Zoe.’

      The girl smiled. This time she was clearly less nervous, Maggie noted.

      Zoe smiled and shook the girl’s hand. ‘Can you get me a cord adaptor for my laptop?’

      ‘Of course,’ said Holly and Maggie felt like punching Zoe in the arm.

      Holly gestured to a bellboy who had their luggage on a rack in the blink of an eye.

      ‘Let me take you to your room,’ she said as she led them to a private elevator. ‘What are your plans while you’re in London?’ She pressed a button and swiped the security screen with a tag attached to the inside of her jacket.

      ‘Shopping, shopping, maybe some sightseeing. I don’t know, what should we do?’ asked Maggie.

      ‘So this trip is just for pleasure, no business?’ asked Holly.

      ‘Just pleasure,’ said Maggie firmly and glared at Zoe, who rolled her eyes in retort.

      ‘Then I can suggest some activities for you,’ said Holly, ‘And I can make all the arrangements.’

      ‘That sounds fantastic,’ said Maggie as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the suite.

      Even Zoe was silent as she took in the elegant surroundings of the room. The plush rugs, the wingbacked chairs, draped curtains, flower-filled vases on almost every surface…

      ‘We have taken the liberty of upgrading you both, since it’s Christmas and you’re VIP guests.’

      ‘Thank you!’ said Maggie and Zoe simultaneously.

      ‘Have you plans for dinner?’ asked Holly. ‘Would you like me to make some recommendations for local restaurants? Or I could organize you some room service? Or make you a reservation at one of the restaurants downstairs?’

      Maggie looked at Zoe. ‘I’m hungry, are you? Shall we go downstairs?’

      Zoe nodded, ‘Yes, I need a steak and a glass of red.’

      ‘Let me organize that for you, then I can unpack your luggage if you wish,’ Holly offered.

      ‘I wish,’ said Zoe. ‘Thank you, that would be great.’

      ***

      Less than ten minutes later, the women were ensconced in a small booth in a corner of The Grill.

      Zoe

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