now. The three of us watch in silence as snippets of what’s coming up in next week’s show appear. And, oh God, I thought it was too good to be true – there’s a clip of me hurling the crocodile skin bag into the Christmas tree next to the Lulu Guinness display. And they’ve done something to the film – speeded it up, and now keep showing the bag spinning into the tree, over and over, with comic-book-style bubbles flashing onto the screen with words like ‘pow’ and ‘thwack’ inside. And I knew I wasn’t mistaken – you can actually hear someone sniggering loudly in the background. Great.
Now they’re showing a clip of Tom in the boardroom at Hermès, where the table is swathed in a selection of exquisite silk scarfs. The voiceover guy is talking again. ‘Will Mr Carrington find love on the sensual sandy shores of Corsica?’ Cue another clip of him and Valentina on the horse. My stomach tightens again. ‘Or will Tom rekindle his romance with an old flame? Don’t miss next week’s episode to find out …’
Whaaaat?
Old flame …
It’s Zara! I knew it. And she’s snuggled up in a chocolate-brown fur coat looking stunning in a horse-drawn carriage in a twinkling, snowy Central Park. New York. Guess that’s Tom’s next stop then; unless he’s there already. Eddie did say they were filming all his scenes upfront. And then it’s confirmed. My heart sinks. Tom is back on the screen, with his boyish smile in place. He looks relaxed and laidback, just like he did on our last date, and I so wish he was here, tickling and teasing me. Messing around together just like we used to. He shares a joke with a couple of fit-looking American guys who look as if they’ve just stepped out of an episode of Revenge. They’re watching a giant Norwegian spruce Christmas tree being hoisted up into position at the Rockefeller Center. The film cuts to another scene, where the tree is decorated now, and it’s breathtaking. With a beautiful sparkly Swarovski star at the top and row upon row of gorgeous rainbow lights glittering in the dark evening sky, it’s magical. The Americans sure know how to celebrate the holidays. And I’ve always wanted to go to New York.
Sam grabs the remote control and quickly presses a button to make the screen go black, before she’s off the sofa and giving me a hug.
‘I think we’ve seen enough,’ she says, squeezing me tight.
‘Well, that settles it then. If Mr Carrington can go on dream dates and hook up with exes, then why shouldn’t you?’ Eddie huffs indignantly, before putting his arms around me as well to make a group hug. He pulls back to look me in the eye and Sam does too. ‘Let him see you whooping it up for a change.’
Sam nods in agreement.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, find yourself another man and flaunt him honey. F-L-A-U-N-T! It’s the only way.’ Eddie states.
‘Like I said before Eddie, that’s not my style – I’m not just going to flit between Tom and James. Besides, James is seeing someone.’
‘No he isn’t, that’s old news – Vicky is back with her ex. Flashing an engagement ring around too, she was, in the staff canteen just the other day.’
‘That’s nice,’ I murmur, feeling like a sad old sack all of a sudden. Vicky is years younger than I am. And Sam’s married, Eddie is settled down, and now even Dad seems to have found himself someone new. What’s wrong with me that I can’t even find a decent steady boyfriend and keep hold of him?
‘Anyway, it doesn’t have to be James if you don’t want to go there again. It can be anyone. Think of the end-of-show wrap party – you really don’t want to turn up all on your Bridget Jones, not when Tom might have the Brazilian goddess in tow, or worse still, that man-stealer, Zara!’ Eddie purses his lips. ‘I knew she was up to no good.’
I down the last of my drink and press my fingernails into the palm of my hand to stem the tears that are threatening, knowing that Zara isn’t really a ‘man–stealer’ as Eddie says. Tom has a mind of his own; he must have at least wanted to be ‘stolen,’ to be with someone else, I can’t imagine she forced him to be with her against his will. So, it really looks like we’re over, then. Properly over. I don’t believe it. I had been holding out for it to be just a horrible misunderstanding, heat of the moment brought about circumstance, and giving him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t take my calls – telling myself he was just busy working and travelling. No time to himself. But I guess, deep down, I knew it was a fabrication. He wanted to call it a day, and now he’s moved on – or, more accurately, backwards … to his childhood sweetheart, with a beautiful Brazilian goddess on the side.
It’s Thursday and Annie is at the laser clinic, so I’m here behind the counter on my own and I can’t stop thinking about last night’s show. After Sam and Eddie left, I watched it again. And again. And again. I’m obsessed! I searched for clues to the seriousness of their relationship – scanning Tom’s face; I even freeze-framed a couple of shots of them on the horse just to see the look in Tom’s eyes – but I really can’t be sure if he’s into her or not. It’s driving me insane. And if he is, then why is Zara in New York? Tom must have invited her, or at least know she’s there; he could have put a stop to it, but he hasn’t, so he’s obviously fine with it. Happy about it, most likely. They could have been planning it for weeks – no wonder she was offish with me in his office … She already had her sights on him and didn’t want me hanging around, getting in her way. And then it dawns on me! I can’t believe I didn’t see it – of course, it all makes sense now, that’s why he was so quick to call it a day, to make way for Zara! I just made it easier for him by being so cross about my embarrassing debut on TV. I take a deep breath in a desperate attempt to stop my mind from spinning out of control with all the horrible possibilities.
And I feel like I’m in a goldfish bowl, with everyone watching me. There was a group of girls huddled by the staff entrance this morning when I arrived at work, one of them asked for my autograph and wanted to know a) where my new boots were from. She didn’t look impressed when I said River Island, and that they were a bargain in last winter’s sale, and b) is it true that Eddie is my GBF? And if so, then I’m the luckiest girl alive, apparently, and can I tell him that she’s set up a fan page for him on Facebook, and it already has four hundred and ninety-three ‘Likes’.
When I eventually made it to the staff room and changed the fleece-lined boots for my usual New Look heels, I overheard someone behind the lockers giggling about the bookmaker’s over the road from Carrington’s. Apparently, they’re taking bets on who Mr Carrington, aka Tom, will turn up with at the end-of-show wrap party – Valentina or Zara. No mention of me! Of course, they stopped talking when they realised I was there. I feel like such a fool, with people whispering and skulking around me.
I’m rearranging the Michael Kors display when Eddie appears; poking his head through the back of the open shelf unit, in between an oversized clutch and a signature monogrammed tote.
‘Cheer up, dollface. I have news,’ he says, quickly repositioning the bags back into place before darting around to stand opposite me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re going on a date! It’s all organised.’ Eddie looks charged.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I head back to my counter and start shoving cocktail rings into their rightful slots in the tray – ‘I wish the customers wouldn’t mess around with them,’ I mutter angrily to myself, then suddenly feel paranoid
