up the back of the store, so the builders don’t have to come inside to reach the roof.
Sam and I have decided to make the most of the bonus time off, and are heading into town for a late lunch followed by a pamper session in the Mulberry Grand Hotel spa. Sam’s booked herself in for the special Mum To Be package, and I’m having the Ultimate Night Out package, ahead of flicking the switch with the rest of the Carrington’s staff, for the Mulberry Christmas lights on Saturday. The rumour was true and I’m so excited. Dad said he might come down to watch – if it’s not too cold.
‘What do you reckon on these?’ We’re in the changing room of a little boutique called Bumpalicious, just off the market square in the centre of town, and Sam is trying on a pair of maternity jeans. ‘Plenty of room for Cupcake to grow into them,’ she adds, holding out the enormous elasticated waistband like a super slimmer in one of those ‘post-weight-loss’ pictures.
‘They look nice on the legs, are they comfortable?’ I say, diplomatically.
‘I suppose so, but I’m not sure they’re me. I don’t really do “nice”.’ Sam wrinkles her nose and I giggle.
‘Weell, I was wondering why you were buying jeans when you never wear denim.’ I smile.
‘I know. But I really want some maternity wear. You know, to feel properly pregnant,’ she says, stepping out of the jeans.
‘How are you getting on?’ It’s the sales assistant, calling out from behind the curtain.
‘Have you got anything else, please? Something with a bit of a sparkle would be good,’ Sam says, grinning as she pops her head around the curtain. ‘Jeans aren’t really my thing.’
A few minutes later the assistant returns with a beautiful bright red maxi dress, a black shift dress with sequin trim, a purple silk blouse and a grey woollen poncho with silver flecks in – Sam buys the lot.
We’re just leaving when the shop’s owner stops us.
‘Oooh, I’ve just realised. I thought I’d seen your faces before. Aren’t you the two from that programme? Ohmigod! How exciting. Slebs inside my shop,’ she gushes. ‘And you are sooo funny, but I don’t know how you put up with those customers, and I think I would have thrown that sleazy guy out – it was totes obvious that Chloé bag had been used,’ she says, glancing at me sympathetically. ‘I have those types in here all the time; use the merch and then bring it back looking for a refund. Must think we’re daft – I even saw one customer on Facebook wearing the top I sold her just the day before she brought it back in, saying it didn’t fit. Good for you, standing your ground.’ She shakes her head and I don’t have the heart to tell her he’s an actor, plus I can’t remember if we’re allowed to say or not. Before we started filming, KCTV handed out contracts to everyone taking part, with a big list of confidentiality clauses. I’m sure I saw something about not ‘spoiling the magic’ for the viewers. ‘Can I take a photo?’
I hesitate.
‘Sure,’ beams Sam, before I have a chance to answer. ‘Come on Georgie.’ She loops her arm through mine and stands next to me. I smile politely.
‘Can you sign something? What about this?’ She hands us a magazine, and we both oblige before saying goodbye.
‘What was that all about?’ Sam whispers as we head out onto the pavement.
‘I don’t know, I just feel like a bit of a fraud, I suppose. We’re not really proper famous people. We haven’t actually done anything as such … you know, like talented actresses or Olympic athletes.’ I pull up my hood, and grip my oversized tote in closer before taking Sam’s carrier bags – she’s laden down. In addition to the clothes, she bought a really cute cot set with matching mobile, various other bits of baby paraphernalia and an enormous pile of zebra-print washable nappies. The assistant said they were the latest baby must-have, and that all the eco-mummies are stocking up on them and signing up to a scheme, where they collect the used ones and bring them back freshly laundered. Sam was keen to be a part of it.
‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’ Sam gives me a concerned look.
‘Um, well, I still feel a bit down after Tom’s text, but I don’t want to talk about it and spoil our afternoon together. Especially as you look so happy, glowy and radiant, and just like a pregnant woman should be.’ I grin. ‘This is what you’ve always wanted and I’m not spoiling it for a single second by moping over a man.’
‘Aw. Well, I still can’t believe Tom was so heartless. It just goes to show, and I feel partly to blame.’
‘Oh please don’t. It’s not your fault. Let’s change the subject.’ I smile.
‘Well, if I’d have known what he was really like, then there’s no way I would have invited him out to the wedding to surprise you. I just wouldn’t have encouraged you to get together with him at all,’ she says, ignoring my plea.
‘I know.’ I touch her arm and smile. ‘You’re a wonderful friend.’
‘Thanks, hun, and so are you. And it sounds to me as if you’ve had a lucky escape, if he can be that mean. I can’t believe he was so harsh in the text message – talk about using a hammer to crack a nut. But look on the bright side – you have a date with Dan Kilby. There are women all over the country that fantasise about sleeping with him.’ She gives me a cheeky wink and I smile, but know inside that won’t happen. Not so soon after Tom. ‘Come on, let’s go to that new restaurant in the marina for lunch. We could ask the maître d’ to seat us somewhere quiet, away from the crowds, daaahling – seeing as we’re slebs now!’ Sam laughs to lighten the mood and change the subject. She pulls out her Gucci shades and puts them on before shaking her curls back to complete a proper celebrity look, even though it’s a cold, dark wintery day. And I laugh too, which is something I haven’t felt like doing for far too long now.
‘That’s better. Georgie, I really hate seeing you down, especially in the run-up to Christmas. Talking of which, I’d love you to come to mine for lunch on Christmas Day. Gloria is coming, Nathan’s dad too. We were planning on going to Italy, but Gloria was having none of it. “What if you go into labour on the aeroplane?” she said. Nathan told her it’s highly unlikely at this early stage … but anything for a quiet life.’
We join the queue for a taxi, and the atmosphere is really friendly and Christmassy, with the Salvation Army choir singing carols beside a twinkling tree. A guy is roasting chestnuts on an outdoor barbecue and shoppers are milling around, all smiley and happy with their festive goodies, giant rolls of snowman-print wrapping paper tucked under their arms alongside Argos bags crammed full of boxes. One man even has an oversized felt reindeer hat with flashing antlers on, entwined in tinsel. Sam huddles in closer to me. It’s freezing and the sky is swirly white – maybe it will snow for Christmas, after all. I place the bags on the pavement and put my arm around her shoulders to keep her warm.
‘Thanks for the invite, but I was hoping to spend it with Dad – with it being our first one together in years,’ I say, through chattering teeth, then immediately feel like kicking myself on forgetting that Alfie won’t be with us this year. And it feels so sad. He was the ultimate life and soul of the party, always turning up laden with gifts for everyone, and he was the perfect host, the perfect dad, making sure our glasses were full and that we all felt happy and carefree, laughing as we listened to tales of his international travels. And he had a knack of making every female he met feel like the only woman in the world. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t think … ’ I quickly add.
