her to sack me and give James my section just to try and win him back, leaving me joining the dole queue. Or … she’ll find out he stayed last night, get all jealous and try to ruin it some other way.’ Sam shakes her head. ‘And OK, I know staff shouldn’t be bunking off, but we’ve all been coming to the café for – like – forever, and it’s practically recycling – if we spend our wages in here, then it’s just going back into the store.’
‘Good point. Although technically it doesn’t because I lease the space, so the money goes to me, but hey … it’s a nice thought. Hold on!’ Sam clutches my arm, with a worried look on her face. ‘You don’t think she’ll suggest ending my lease and putting Carrington’s staff in here instead, do you, as part of her revamp?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘I don’t know, but a memo came this morning, inviting a member of my staff on some team-building thing.’
‘That’s weird,’ I say, trying to work out if Sam’s fear is founded. ‘Oh well, maybe it was just a mistake,’ I add, erring on the side of optimism. ‘My session is the first Sunday in Feb. What will you do? Can’t you nominate yourself and keep me company?’
‘Would do hun, but I’ve already promised Dad I’d accompany him to some really important polo match business function.’
‘Hmm,’ I groan, feeling disappointed.
‘I’ll make Ciaran go instead. He could do with a bit of team building. Serve him right for not telling me, his TEAM MATE, about the engagement,’ she snorts. ‘Besides, won’t James be going?’
‘Ooh, I forgot about that, I checked the list and he’s down for the same session.’
‘See, wouldn’t you rather he keep you company?’ Sam pauses for a moment, then claps a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet.’
‘What?’ I say, suddenly desperate to hear her news.
‘Nathan has invited me to his parents’ holiday home in Italy. Can you believe it? Not a mini-break either, no – a whole week.’ Sam is beside herself with glee and sounds as though she’s swallowed a can of helium.
‘That’s fantastic!’ Her excitement is infectious. ‘Tell me all about it,’ I demand, leaning in closer to her.
‘Well, his parents live by Lake Como and he wants me to meet them. They’re celebrating their golden wedding anniversary, on February the fourteenth, and, well, he’s invited me to the party, and to meet them of course,’ she says, sounding all bubbly and happy.
‘Oh Sam, I’m so thrilled for you. I take it you two are serious then?’ I ask, hoping that’s the case.
‘Yep, meeting the parents, it doesn’t get more serious than that. And Dad is thrilled.’
‘I bet he is, and I’m really pleased for you too. Just imagine … both of us with a man at the same time – that’s a rarity.’
‘Sure is.’
And then it dawns on me.
‘Hang on a minute. Did you say February the fourteenth? As in Valentine’s Day?’
‘Yes, so romantic. Why?’ she replies, slowly.
‘That’s the day of Tina’s wedding. I was hoping you’d come with me.’ My heart sinks at the thought of having to go on my own or, worse, with Maxine.
‘Sorry hun, no can do, I’m not missing this for anything or anyone – not Ciaran, not even my best friend.’ Sam laughs. ‘James will be going, though – yet another chance to keep you company.’
‘Ahh, good thinking,’ I say, immediately perking up at the thought.
‘Anyway, I’ll be there for the hen do. You know she’s asked me to provide a gourmet lunch? Money no object, apparently, as long as there’s a massive macaroon mountain and a chocolate fountain, she said. I was surprised to see your name on the catering list though.’
‘I was surprised too. I think I’m only invited so she can spend the day making out I’m jealous. She thinks I’m after Ciaran,’ I say, breathing a sigh of relief that Sam will be around to ease the tension.
‘Mmm, is he still hanging around you a lot?’
‘Not really. We tweet, that’s all.’
‘Still think he fancies you,’ Sam says, raising her eyebrows.
‘Stop it.’
‘Fine. But it could explain why she’s so jealous. Besides, you don’t have to go to the hen do.’ My heart lifts at the prospect of snubbing Tina’s half-baked invite and not going, after all.
‘I know, but I should keep her sweet. She’s already had a word,’ I roll my eyes, ‘about my sales sheet, making threats to withhold my commission. I can’t afford for her to be awkward about it and deliberately delay the payment or something,’ I say. I’m banking on it to pay towards my car tax due this month.
We say our goodbyes, and as I pull my bag onto my shoulder, my mobile buzzes. It’s a text message from James and I feel a soft tingle as I tap the view button to read it.
Thank you for a wonderful night. Sorry I had to dash off x.
I hug the phone to my chest, knowing last night might have felt like a dream but the message right here on the screen proves it was definitely real. I refuse to think of the consequences for now. It’s just so great feeling buzzy and desirable again, for the first time since Brett broke my heart. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have an actual bona-fide date for Valentine’s Day …
20
The atmosphere on the shop floor is feverish. Every time a customer emerges through the revolving doors there’s practically a stampede to get to them first. We’re all desperate to grab the sales, although I’ve noticed Tom doesn’t join in the melee. Instead he spends most of the time talking in a hushed voice into the phone behind his counter, schmoozing brand managers for personal shopper leads, no doubt.
It’s been a while since my night with James and, although we’ve bumped into each other a couple of times in the staff room, he’s been pretty distant with me, so I can’t help wondering if it was just a one-night stand after all. Maybe it’s too soon – he’s not even divorced yet – or maybe he wants to get back with Maxine instead. Or perhaps he’s just decided it’s totally inappropriate, given the work situation. I try to put it out of my mind, but then, almost as though the universe is listening, the phone behind my counter rings.
‘Georgina, we have a massive bunch of flowers here for you.’ My mood lifts as Betty gives me the news. Slamming the phone down, I rush to the switchboard room and pluck the card from the hand-tied arrangement of lipstick-pink roses. The message is cryptic.
Until next time.
Trust James to be so discreet. I hug the flowers to me, revelling in our secret, and the doubt in my mind instantly disappears.
‘So,
