Cupcakes and Christmas: The Carrington’s Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr. Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s (35 page)

Things are going really well between Dad and me now, and Sam asking him to give her away was a huge turning point for us both, like he finally has a real seal of approval.

My ringing mobile interrupts my thoughts. So, on seeing that it’s Eddie, I press the green answer button to talk to him.

‘Baby cakes! Just a quickie.’ He pauses for maximum impact. ‘I have delicious gossip,’ he adds dramatically, to open the conversation. I laugh, typical Eddie, although I have to say he’s calmed down a little since he and Ciaran moved in together.

‘Oh yes?’

‘You’ll never guess who I spotted in Boots selling Z-list celebrity perfumes?’ But before I can hazard a guess he screams in my ear. ‘Only that shovel-carrying troll. Tina!’ I think back to her departure. Remember those diversity awareness forms, the
highly confidential
ones? Well, Tina only went and left them out on her desk one night and didn’t even realise when a kind Samaritan – rumour is it was Lauren – took them for safekeeping and later gave them to Amy with an anonymous Post-it note explanation on. Tina was disciplined over it, which she took great offence at, and ended up leaving in a huff when her demands for the ‘real culprit who grassed her up’ be sacked instead, fell on deaf ears.

The upside of the whole sorry affair was that Lauren passed her NVQ exams, got promoted, and now works properly alongside Doris and Suzanne in the cash office while Jack plays happily in the new Carrington’s crèche. One of the first things Tom did when he took over was organise a staff questionnaire, asking what single change would make the most difference to everyone. Accessible and affordable childcare was the answer. Which is hardly surprising given that the majority of Carrington’s employees are women. Mrs Grace said it was a miracle, and something she never envisaged witnessing in her lifetime, before launching into a long story about how her Terry had a wooden beer crate for a crib because everyone just had to make do back then.

‘Poor Tina. Well I actually feel sorry for her,’ I say. ‘It’s a bit of a slap down from calling yourself the accounts manager,’ I remind him, before draining the last of my cocktail.

‘Oh
purlease
. Cry me a fucking river. That girl is pure poison. No it serves her right.’ He sniffs. ‘And what about the prom queen?’

‘Oh God, what about her?’ I say, not wanting to be reminded of all that. Eddie draws in a big breath to create maximum impact.

‘I heard she’s been deported!’

‘Wh
at do you mean,
deported
?’ I snort.

‘Back to Alabama, or wherever it is she comes from. Melissa told me.’ Eddie drops his voice. ‘OK, this is strictly confidential. Mel could lose her job at the prison. Swear on your life.’

‘I swear.’

‘Apparently, Maxine was caught trying to flog stolen goods – a ruby necklace belonging to that Russian oligarch, you know, the one with the waterbed.’ I laugh. Trust Eddie to remember the embellishment. ‘Can you believe it?’ Oh my actual God. So she didn’t even give the necklace back, she kept it for herself. No wonder she was so desperate to launch herself across the desk to grab her stuff before Camille had it all bagged up. It was probably in the drawer the whole time. ‘Anyway enough of her, I want to hear about you. What are you wearing to the pre-wedding meal?’

‘
Weell
, it’s a one-off. A lovely floral maxi dress. And I made it myself,’ I say, proudly.

‘SHUT UUUP you did!’ Eddie squeals, and I laugh out loud. ‘Are you serious? I know you’ve been busy executing your master plan, but hey, where did you learn to sew?’

‘I taught myself, using Mum’s old sewing machine,’ I explain, smiling as I recall the many disasters at the start before I got the hang of it. He’s right about my master plan. Oh, I forgot to say, that hefty 125 per cent mortgage? Well, the fixed rate ended, so with the rent from my new flatmate covering the now vastly reduced monthly payments, and my pay rise, of course, I was able to come to an agreement with my debtors to let me pay off the debts more slowly. And learning how to dramatically reduce my overheads has made a huge difference too. You know, they have magazines in libraries these days, and I cook with produce from a little allotment I managed to find up near Mulberry Common. I also sold some shoes and clothes on eBay and used the money to pay off the jeweller and clear the shortfall on the car loan, so I could return the car. Of course I had to keep the Gina sandals because they hold so many memories for me. I smile, as I glance down at them, twinkling like jewelled stars on my feet. I love to sunbathe in them because … well, just because I can.

‘Good for you, honey. You really have set yourself free.’

‘Thanks,’ I reply, relishing how great it feels.

‘Anyway, glad you’re OK. Enjoy the meal. Give that cupcake queen a squeeze from me and tell her we can’t wait to see her on Saturday. Our flight arrives on Friday and it’s going to be fabulous standing on the Italian hillside in the glittering sun, witnessing her wedding ceremony, flooded with scent from the local lemon grove. Sooo romantic … Oh, hang on, Ciaran has just arrived home and is blowing you a kiss.’

‘Ahh, blow one back from me,’ I say, delighted they’re still so happy together.

‘Will do, sweetie. Chat more tomoz. Mwah, mwah, sending you cupcakes and puppies and all things lovely.’ The line goes dead.

Shaking my head and smiling to myself, I flip over and lie on my front. Turning my face to the side, I close my eyes to soak up the last of the now setting sun. A magnificent smudge of orange and gold stretched across the horizon.

I can hear footsteps again – closer this time, much closer. They stop. I open my left eye and see the figure standing right beside me now. And then I realise who it is. And I can’t believe it. I’m stunned. I open my mouth but words won’t come out. I throw myself up into a sitting position. Balancing a cocktail tray in his right hand, he offers me a drink with the other. Parma Violet. Instantly I know Sam has had a hand in this guest appearance – as Queen of Hearts, she never could resist playing Cupid.

‘Thanks. But, err, what are you doing here?’ I manage, barely able to believe my own eyes.

‘I came to see you. Sam invited me … you don’t mind, do you, only I never did get an answer.’

Tom is standing over me, the sun dazzling like a giant halo all around him. He’s wearing just a pair of aviator shades and fitted black Daniel Craig-style trunks. A little squeal of delight screams out inside me. His tanned body is magnificent, muscular and solid, and his chest hair is the darkest black, trickling down and underneath the waistband of his trunks.

‘An answer to what?’ I just about manage to squeak.

‘Will you be my Valentine?’

But before I can respond he bends down, places the tray on the floor and brings his free hand around the back of my head and up under my hair, pulling my lips to his. My whole body tingles with desire. The feeling is incredible as the fireworks reignite and explode all over again. He pulls away, but I’m not letting him go this time, so I reach my hands around his back and down to his firm backside. ‘One on each cheek’, that’s what Sam said.

Tom laughs and brings his hands up to tickle me.

‘So you really are a cheeky cow,’ he breathes into my ear before nuzzling the side of my neck.

‘Hey, you were the one who went undercover. Now, I think that’s very cheeky indeed. Tell me, why did you do
that exactly?’ I grin and raise an eyebrow. That little-boy look
from the crazy golf course darts across his face, making my heart melt.

‘Georgie, I wanted you right from the very first moment I saw you in the club. Laughing as you rolled around on the floor and then interrogating me at the bar. I couldn’t get you out of my head after that … just like I said in your Valentine’s card.’

Valentine’s card? What’s he going on about? And then I remember. The crimson envelope under my front door. Ahh, so it was from him. How romantic. I smile.

‘But why did you keep your position a secret?’

‘I had to. I started off wanting to see Carrington’s from the inside, but that all went a bit pear-shaped when I met you.’ He grins and shakes his head. ‘Then all I wanted to do was to get to know you and see if you might be interested in the real me. Without everything else getting in the way. My family background,’ he says quietly, and looks away. ‘And then there was James, I thought there was something going on between you two …’ His voice trails off.

I think of James. We met up, shortly after that day in Maxine’s office, and he told me he’d had time to think and realised he was still in love with Rebecca. He asked if we could go back to being just friends. I’m so pleased things are back to normal between us. Lovely, kind James.

‘It was nothing serious,’ I say, gently pushing his chin back to see into his eyes.

‘Where are those cheeky cow knickers? I think you need to put them on right now, Madam.’ He tries to tickle me again, but I’m too quick for him.

‘Come on. You might as well get it over with,’ I say, trying to keep a straight face.

‘OK,’ he clears his throat. ‘I deliberately seduced you over a game of crazy golf, which was totally shameless of me given my secret position.’ We both burst out laughing. ‘And I loved every minute of it,’ he whispers suggestively into my ear, making my whole body burn with longing.

Of course, since Tom revealed his true position, we’ve seen each other at work and chatted over a cupcake or two on a few occasions, and every time, the sparks have been there and the connection so intense it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. We even arranged a proper dinner date, but he had to cancel. Tom has to travel a lot, meeting suppliers and sourcing new lines, as he’s determined to restore Carrington’s to its former glory, so there never seems to have been the right moment for us. Sam has been badgering me for weeks now to make a proper move on him, but he’s the boss. He owns Carrington’s, and he’s seriously wealthy, but really, I can’t hold that against him now, can I? And he has come all this way to find me.

I pull away from his sexy embrace, to contemplate while I scan the view. The scene is fantastic. A gorgeous sunset. Tom. My secret Valentine. A perfect moment.

To be continued …

What was the inspiration for Carrington’s department store?

I’ve always loved department stores, there’s just something so magical and euphoric about them, so when I met my husband and found out that his family used to own a department store in Ireland, I was beyond excited and my father-in-law was very generous in sharing his childhood memories of visiting the store. The other inspiration was Hannington’s department store in Brighton where I grew up. I have fabulous memories of going there with my Nan, the smell of newness, the bright lights, the cage lift, the polite staff with their receipt pads – I loved everything about it, and of course, nothing bad ever happens inside a department store. Truefact.

Have you always wanted to become a writer?

Yes, as a child I loved reading and writing, it was an escape, a solace, and English Language and English Literature were the only subjects that interested me at school, which is probably why they were the only two exams I managed to pass. But I assumed writing was for other people – brainy, glamorous people who lived in London, which is probably why I ran away to London as soon as I left school. I soon realised this was a fantasy though, and quickly got myself a proper job. It took me twenty years to make my dream of writing all day, as well as all night, come true.

What was your worst job before becoming a writer?

Working in a bank, I was only nineteen – naïve and shy, and the manager would tap my bottom with his umbrella whenever I bent over to put the cash boxes into the safe. He was about a hundred years old and a total caricature with his pinstripe suit and bowler hat. I’ve had some fantastic jobs too though – switchboard operator in an old-fashioned telephone exchange where I got to listen in on famous people having conversations, a highpoint for a nosey writer like me. I loved being an usherette in a 1920s theatre and also working for a retired drag queen in his T-shirt printing kiosk on Brighton Pier.

What does your typical writing day look like?

I’m a complete routine addict, but also incredibly lucky in that my husband works from home too, so he takes our daughter to nursery, which means I can be at my desk by eight. I have a little ritual of lighting a candle and spraying the ‘books’ perfume
¹
on my wrists, and then I write until she comes home, with a half-hour break for lunch and a catch up on Twitter, Facebook and the
Daily Mail
sidebar – I’m addicted to that too. If I’m nearing a deadline then I’ll write at night, but never at weekends – that’s thinking and family time. I also force myself to exercise regularly as sitting down for hours on end isn’t good for my backside.

Do you put anything of yourself into Georgie?

Absolutely, especially the relationship with her dad, and her tendency to put two and two together and come up with five trillion. I’m a complete drama queen, but then there’s part of me in Sam and Eddie too. Sam is my fun, Pollyanna side and a fantastic cheerleader, and Eddie – well, he’s the naughty bit in me, the part that might think the outrageous things he says, but wouldn’t dare say them out loud, unless I was chatting to my husband or very best friends.

Do you plan to write any more books about Carrington’s?

Yes – there are currently three books planned in the Carrington’s series, the second,
Christmas at Carrington’s
, is coming soon and continues Georgie’s story when she becomes a reluctant reality TV star.

What would be your desert island books?

Can I take a Kindle? There are so many books that I go back to time and time again, if I had to whittle it down, then it would be anything by Jackie Collins and Harold Robbins,
Valley of the Dolls
by Jacqueline Susann, the
Shopaholic
series by Sophie Kinsella, the
Malory Towers
series by Enid Blyton and the
Tales of the City
series by Armistead Maupin.