next. I’ve never encountered a real situation like this before, let alone a pretend one. I scan the crowd, desperately searching for Hannah, but she’s not here. I swallow and inhale hard through my nose, figuring it best to treat him just like any other customer.
‘I’m really sorry, but the bag wasn’t like this when it left the store,’ I say, knowing that I can’t just give him a full refund. It’s an expensive, high-end bag, and it definitely wasn’t like this when he bought it. And the tags have been removed.
‘Well how did it get in this state then?’
‘Err, I’m not sure, perhaps somebody used it,’ I suggest, cringing and wishing I was anywhere but here. My brain seems to have gone all foggy, and why does it have to be so blooming hot in here? I run a finger along the inside of my collar, conscious of the camera just mere centimetres from my face.
‘Are you saying that I’ve used it?’ he asks, staring straight into my eyes.
‘No. No, of course not. Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.’ I can feel my cheeks burning again now. This is horrendous; I’m not normally so feeble with customers, but with the cameras and the production people all around me, I’m like a rabbit caught in the headlights, literally. And I’m sure another light bulb just went on. Suddenly a dazzling circuit of white light surrounds me and I feel panicky. My pulse quickens and my head spins. I place a hand on the counter to steady myself and realise that I’m actually holding my breath.
‘Good, because that would be ridiculous. I’m not in the habit of using ladies’ handbags.’ He glares as a camera moves in for a close-up.
‘Of course. But didn’t you say it was a Christmas gift for your wife? It was gift-wrapped, and now it isn’t?’ I say, quickly pulling myself together. Ha! Wriggle out of that one. Two can play this game, which is exactly what this is, a game; he’s not even a real customer. He’s an actor. I’ve a good mind to shout ‘CUT’ just so we can get this farce over with right away.
‘I wanted to check it before I gave it to my wife. And good job too. She would have been devastated if I’d presented her with a special bag in such an appalling state. Maybe it’s you that used it. Or what about her?’ he says, jabbing a finger at Annie, who drops her jaw in silent protest. A camera immediately glides up close so as not to miss a nanosecond of Annie’s indignation. I open my mouth. I close it, willing my cheeks to stop flaming. I take a deep breath. I’ve had enough of this.
‘Zara, more like.’ But the minute the words come out of my mouth, I want to run away and hide. She already hates me. Silence follows.
‘Cut!’ It’s Leo Afro who breaks the moment. The guy in front of me starts laughing. His shoulders are actually pumping up and down like a cartoon character. He must think the whole thing is hysterical.
‘Nearly had you then,’ he says, winking at me as he pulls off his outdoor coat and wings it at a production assistant. ‘God, it’s boiling in here. I’m Lawrence, by the way.’ He places an elbow on the counter and leans into me. ‘Fancy a drink sometime?’
‘Err. No, not really,’ I say, dragging myself up to speed. Talk about surreal. Everyone starts clapping. I force a smile, but can’t help feeling that I’ve been had, and not in a good way. I take off my jacket and grab one of the Santa’s grotto promotional leaflets from the counter to fan my face, when Hannah appears.
‘Well done. That was amazing. Kelly is thrilled,’ she says, lifting my free hand and pumping it up and down.
‘Really?’ I make big eyes.
‘Deffo, she just called to say that she’s left a little something in the dressing room for you. A thank you for being such a shiny star.’
‘OK. And thank you,’ I say, feeling surprised. ‘But what about the ladder incident and the … ’ Oh where do I start? The whole scene was a complete and utter shambles.
‘No probs. Anyway, must dash, need to get over to the pet spa now for the scene with Eddie.’
‘Sure. Can I see Kelly before I go?’ I ask quickly. With a bit of luck I might manage to persuade her to cut the ladder bit after all.
‘Sorry, she’s already left.’ Hannah shrugs before glancing down at my feet. ‘And don’t forget to drop the Loubs back to the dressing room. They have to stay, I’m afraid.’
Crossing the road into the cul-de-sac, I head towards the retirement complex overlooking Mulberry Common. Two floors of net-curtained, brand-new sheltered housing, where each resident has their own self-contained flat. It’s amazing: there’s a communal lounge with an enormous flatscreen TV, onsite medical centre, a minibus to take the residents down to the supermarket and back – but best of all, Dad has company; he’s not sitting alone in the tired little studio flat on the sink estate where he used to live. The council condemned the block when somebody discovered asbestos, so now he lives here, and he was lucky enough to get a ground-floor flat – so he has a pretty garden and was allowed to bring his black Labrador, Dusty, with him too.
After saying goodbye to Annie and reluctantly returning the Loubs, I collected the present from Kelly, a gorgeous bunch of hand-tied russet and plum-coloured seasonal flowers with a card saying:
I’m going to make you a HUGE star! Love Kelly x
I’m not really sure how I feel about being a star, to be honest. Writing the column is more my thing. And yes, it was pretty exciting walking onto the shop floor and being part of it all, but the thought of seeing how they actually portray me on TV this time is utterly petrifying, especially if the pilot is anything to go by. I’ll be a laughing stock all over again, I’m sure of it. Eddie can’t wait, of course, and sent me a text suggesting he comes over to my flat on Wednesday evening so we can watch the first episode together.
I hoist the flowers further under my arm. Mum would have loved them, which gives me an idea – maybe Dad and I could put them on her grave, it’s still early. I’ll suggest going after lunch before it gets dark. I’m sure Dad will want to. I take the card from the cellophane and stow it inside my handbag, there’s a newsagent’s near the entrance to the cemetery where I can buy another one just for Mum.
Heading up the path, I see Dad coming towards me with Dusty bouncing along beside him, and he looks really well. Sort of sprightly and more energetic than when I last saw him a couple of weeks ago. He’s standing taller, not stooping like before, and I’m sure his hair looks darker and less grey – maybe he’s been at the Just For Men. Well, good for him, it’s nice seeing him garner back some self-respect, and Dusty looks good too, her coat is super-shiny. She wags her tail on recognising me and nuzzles my gloved hand affectionately; I respond by stroking her silky ears.
‘Georgie! It’s so good to see you love, and you’re looking well. Have you changed your hair? It was on your shoulders last time I saw you, it looks much longer now – how can that be in the space of a week or two?’ Dad asks, confusion creasing his forehead as he kisses my cheek and slings an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in close, the spicy fresh scent of his woolly scarf comforting and reminiscent of my childhood, before everything changed and he went to prison. I remember visiting him a couple of times, but it wasn’t the same. In there he just smelt of boiled cabbage and institution. We carry on walking side by side.
‘Hair extensions, Dad,’ I explain.
