know. It’s just that his associate doesn’t spea—’
‘Yes, he will tell him. Goodbye.’ The line goes dead. I mutter ‘English’ to myself, before hanging up.
After flogging some Cath Kidston gear to a group of Chinese tourists, it’s my lunch break. Deciding on some comfort food to cheer myself up, I make my way to the café. I’m in the queue with a large mug of squirty-cream-topped hot chocolate and two red velvet cupcakes on my tray, when I spot Tom and Maxine further up ahead at the till. Maxine grabs a carton of coconut juice from their shared tray and breezes back past the queue towards the exit. As she passes me she stops short and suddenly turns around to face me. After casting a disparaging glance at my tray, she treats me to her pageant smile and does a big hair shake before breezing off.
Tears threaten again, but I quickly start counting backwards from twenty in my head, an old trick Mum told me about when the school bullies were at their worst. I reach the till and forage in my bag for my purse, wishing again that everything could just go back to how it used to be.
‘I’ve changed my mind on these,’ I mumble to Stacey, pointing to the cakes.
‘Sure.’ She’s just about to take the plate away when Sam appears.
‘It’s OK Stace. You can go on your break now. I’ll take over.’
‘Thanks Sam.’ Stacey disappears and Sam leans around the till with a concerned look on her face.
‘You OK?’ she whispers.
‘I’m fine.’
‘No you’re not. Now get off your proverbial spike and tell me what’s up?’ Sam smiles kindly.
‘I’ve just lost a really big sale, James is still ignoring me and Maxine is playing me for a mug … so, all in all …’ I say, keeping my voice low as I desperately try to stop my bottom lip from trembling. I fiddle with my purse.
‘Shush,’ Sam puts her hand over mine. ‘My treat, sounds like you need them, put your purse away,’ she says in a way that makes me feel as if I might cry again.
‘Thank you,’ I mouth.
I’ve just sat down at the only free table in the far corner of the packed café when Tom appears.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he says, tilting his head and, in spite of myself, and what I saw earlier in the corridor, and everything else that’s going on, my tummy actually flips as I look up at him towering over me, his eyes sparkling and messy dark curls falling into chocolate-brown eyes. He’s so incredibly hot and smells amazing. I have to force myself to get a grip.
‘If you must,’ I say, too sharply, and he hesitates. ‘Look sorry, of course you can,’ I mutter quickly, feeling ashamed that I’m adding rudeness to my list of unattractive traits these days.
‘Bad day?’ Tom says, sitting down opposite me and pushing his hair away from his face. Then, stirring his espresso, he looks directly at me, waiting for my answer.
‘Bad life more like,’ I say dramatically, ripping a chunk of cupcake and shoving it into my mouth.
‘What’s happened?’ he asks gently, leaning across the table and creasing his forehead in concern. I swallow and slurp at a teaspoonful of hot chocolate.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ I reply, averting my eyes from his. I bet he already knows about the Malikov bags and Maxine’s bound to have told him that I ‘stole’ the sales commission from James. That’s what lovers do – tell each other stuff. No wonder James is so furious with me.
‘Well, if you change your mind, please just let me know … I’m a good listener,’ he says in a low voice. He smiles again and for a moment I waver. I must say he’s very good. He really does seem genuinely interested and caring. Maybe I’ve got it wrong. I don’t know, my judgement is all over the place at the moment. I quickly pull myself together and look away. All part of their ruse, no doubt. Maxine’s probably told him to work his charm on me in an attempt to wheedle out some misdemeanour she can use against me to cover her tracks when she lets him stay and sacks me. She’ll have to find some excuse, because my section is still the most profitable. Maybe Tom will even end up running that too; she did say she would be seeing what merch stays and who was best to sell it, and from what I’ve seen, it’s blooming obvious he’s the favourite. I grab the mug of hot chocolate and stand up.
‘Bye,’ I say abruptly, before heading off. Tom looks up at me and there’s a shadow of dismay in his eyes, but I force myself to ignore it.
23
Back on the shop floor and I’ve barely made it to my counter when the wall phone rings. I grab the receiver before glancing at the clock. Roll on home time – today feels like the longest day ever.
‘Women’s Accessories. Georgie Hart speaking,’ I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. I glance over at James’s section but he’s busy with a customer. Then he looks over, catches me watching and quickly flicks his eyes away. My cheeks burn as I study the wall instead.
‘This is Borek … Mr Malikov’s personal assistant. He requests your company this evening at a pre-opera soirée in his suite at the Mulberry Grand Hotel.’
Silence follows.
The Grand. That’s where Nathan took Sam for her birthday, and it’s the best hotel for miles around. But I can’t go and meet Malikov in a hotel suite. It’s crazy. His car is one thing, but a hotel room? No way. And then I realise that Borek is accustomed to people automatically accepting his master’s requests without question.
‘Err, weell,’ I say, hesitantly.
‘You must. Mr Malikov insists you come.’
Oh God, I was hoping to slope off home and comfort-eat my way through a massive pizza polished off with a red velvet or two. Then I remember Maxine’s request that she be informed – maybe she’ll even come with me. It’ll mean having to put up with her pageant smile and bouncy big hair for an evening, but at least I won’t have to go alone. ‘Actually, the last time I met with Mr Malikov he told me my boss would need to be present fo—’ I say, hopefully.
‘Ah,’ he interjects, and then keeps me waiting. I’m sure I can hear Malikov’s voice in the background.
‘Yes, Mr Malikov insists your boss comes too.’ My heart races … the Chiavacci bags, it must be. He’s going to buy them. If I can secure the sale and credit the commission to James, then maybe he’ll forgive me. My mood is instantly lifted.
‘Wonderful, what time should we arrive?’
‘Seven o’clock and the dress is –’ there’s a short pause – ‘cocktail attire,’ he finishes, as if he’s just spotted the dress code description in a book about high-society etiquette.
‘Of course, and thank you,’ I say, before pressing to end the call. I quickly dial Maxine’s extension, praying she can make it at such short notice.
‘Yes?’ she answers, sounding all breathy and seductive, before I’ve barely finished dialling her extension.
‘Maxine,
