I’m going to break down and get all emotional on him if he talks to me. As soon as the lift reaches the shop floor, he steps aside and feigns fascination with his mobile to avoid saying goodbye.
I make a beeline to my counter. My eyes feel raw. I peer at my reflection in the black screen of the PC and can just make out my eyes. They look like small stones peeping out from a pair of overly engorged mushrooms. No wonder Walter was scared to be alone with me.
After James’s horrible exit on Saturday evening, I spent the rest of Sunday and Monday alone with two bottles of rosé to keep me company whilst I wallowed in tears. But there is one tiny consolation: I’ve lost five pounds in two days. So, after a pep talk from Sam, I tried to disguise my eyes, firstly with a peppermint gel eye mask that’s been nestling in amongst the peas at the back of my freezer compartment, before resorting to concealer, followed by practically a whole tube of BB cream. But there’s no escaping the fact that I look horrendous and it’s no more than I deserve.
Stealing a look around the screen, I see that James isn’t here and I puff out a little sigh of relief. I turn my phone over inside my pocket and, like I have a million times already, I contemplate calling him. All of a sudden the phone vibrates, signifying the arrival of a text message, and it startles me. My shaking hands lose their grip and the phone tumbles down onto the carpet. I hesitate for a second before reaching down to retrieve it, praying the message is from James. But it’s not, it’s from Eddie.
You ok flower? x
My heart drops with disappointment, but I could do with another perspective so, after squaring it with Annie, I quickly reply.
Chat? x
When I arrive at the door to the staff corridor, Eddie is hovering next to it, his face looking anxious with concern.
‘What’s up, sweet cheeks?’ he whispers, glancing over at the staff lift where a couple of Jo Malone concession girls are within earshot of us.
‘Not here, let’s go for a walk.’ I motion down the corridor and he follows me. I wait until we’re alone.
‘Oh Ed, I’ve ruined everything,’ I sniff, tears threatening again.
‘What do you mean?’ His voice is full of concern.
‘Promise you won’t tell a soul?’
‘You know I won’t, but if it makes you feel any better, then I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die a grisly, gory death,’ he says, before poking his tongue out.
‘I’m serious, not anyone,’ I say, searching his eyes for reassurance.
‘Georgie please, you’re scaring me now. What is it? I give you my word that I won’t breathe a word to another living soul. Not ever! Now please tell me, if you think it will help. But you don’t have to … you know that, don’t you? I’m happy to fuss you and remain oblivious of whatever dastardly deed it is you’ve committed.’
‘I know. And thank you.’ My eyes well up at his kindness.
‘I’ve been seeing someone.’
‘OK,’ he starts, slowly. ‘Do you want to tell me who? Although I’m pretty sure I can guess.’ I blink at him. Silence follows. ‘It’s James, isn’t it?’
I bite my lip and nod.
‘How do you know?’ I ask, suddenly worried that everyone in the store will have noticed what was going on.
‘Honey pie, I know you and, well, I’ve seen the way you two are with each other. Surely it’s a good thing you finally managed to get it together,’ he says, gently.
‘Well yes, it was fun. At least it was until I managed to completely blow it. He thinks I deliberately stole sales commission from Malikov, instead of sharing it like we normally do. You know, as part of this horrendous recession-busting revamp thing.’ Eddie raises an enquiring eyebrow. ‘I meant to tell him, but with Malikov not taking his calls …’ My voice trails off. I know it’s a poor excuse. But I can’t say anything about the necklace and how distracted I was – no matter how strong our friendship is, I just can’t put Eddie in that position, not when he’s The Heff’s BA. He’d be in trouble too … if it ever came out that he knew and didn’t report me. ‘This damn revamp is ruining everything,’ I add, quickly. ‘He was so furious and then I lost it and accused him of bitching to Maxine about me. He knows about Dad too … and well, it’s over.’
‘Well, that explains it, sugar.’ I turn to look at him.
‘What do you mean?’ I could hug him for not judging me.
‘James has pulled out of the team-building weekend. Personal reasons apparently.’ I feel crushed. I’d been clinging on to the thought that I might just be able to salvage something of our relationship over the weekend away, explain properly that I really had meant to share the commission.
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Eddie puts an arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, grateful for a moment of comfort, ‘I’m sure he’ll come around. He’s a nice guy, probably just overreacting after the way Rebecca did the dirty on him. He’s bound to be a bit sensitive for a while.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I should try and talk to him. You know, apologise or something.’
‘Could do. But wait until after the weekend and see how you feel then.’
We turn the corner and I open my mouth to reply, but instead we both stop short. Eddie drops his arm from my shoulders. Maxine and Tom are just up ahead of us at the end of the long corridor, and she has her right arm linked through his and her body practically wrapped around his. Her left hand is stroking his chest. The pair of them look very cosy indeed. Rooted to the spot, neither of us moves. Eddie clutches my arm. We wait until they disappear inside one of the stock rooms, the door of which Maxine kicks shut behind them with the spike of her Loub.
‘Did you see that?’ I feel strangely satisfied that I’ve actually witnessed it now with my own eyes, although it doesn’t quite account for the horrible sinking sensation that follows.
‘Yes, very clandestine,’ Eddie sniffs. I feel totally played. I don’t stand a chance of keeping my job when Maxine is in bed with Tom. And most likely James too, for all I know.
*
When I get back to the shop floor, James is back. He looks straight through me as I walk past and I feel like such a fool as the weak smile that I managed to coax onto my face in preparation for seeing him withers away. I make it to my counter and Annie gives me a memo from upstairs, saying Malikov’s associate still hasn’t produced photo ID and address verification so, unless he does, he can’t buy the Bottega bags … the sale is way over the £9,000 limit for one customer transaction. I pick up the phone to call him.
‘Mr Malikov is unavailable,’ a growly voice says. ‘I am his –’ there’s a pause – ‘personal assistant.’
‘OK, this is Georgie Hart calling from Carr—’
‘He is not available,’ the growly voice interrupts.
‘Yes, you said,’ I reply, tightly. I’m not in the mood for this.
‘I will take a message.’
I
