Cupcakes and Christmas: The Carrington’s Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr. Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s (64 page)

We’ve arrived at a service area in the basement of the hotel. Enormous metal cage laundry trollies line the walls of the long corridor in front of us.

‘This way.’ Tom looks charged as he strides towards a door at the far end and I have to jog to keep up with him. He pushes the door open and leads me down a flight of stairs to a narrow underground tunnel of exposed brick. It’s dimly lit and smells damp. I hesitate, fear and excitement surging through me. ‘It’s OK. I know the way.’ He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes locking with mine. He grips my hand tighter. I nod and follow behind as he navigates us through the junctions and around the corners, running along lengths of tunnel until eventually we come to a steel door. My heart pounds as he taps a number into the security pad before pushing hard with his shoulder, forcing the door open. We step though into a carpeted lift with a metal cage door. A Tiffany wall lamp flickers into life.

Carrington’s!
We’re inside Carrington’s. I bet we’ve just come through one of the tunnels that Dirty Harry used to visit the showgirls – the Mulberry Grand Hotel is almost as old as Carrington’s, so it makes sense. Or maybe it was the tunnel that Mrs Grace told me about, where the staff and their families took shelter during the Blitz? Either way, it’s magical. It’s like being a part of Carrington’s history.

As the lift rises, we stand in silence, side by side, with me listening to the drumming beat of my heart and praying that the lift breaks down so we end up having to stay the night in here, together. One last time. Because Tom might not have sent that horrible message, but he still wanted to split up, that day in his office. For all I know he could be seeing Valentina; just because she wasn’t at the party tonight doesn’t mean they’re not together, especially after Zara’s antics. It all makes sense now – his white-jodhpured hero moment on the moonlit Corsican beach with her, and then their steamy hot-tub scene in Lapland. I shudder and brace myself. Maybe this is his way of letting me down gently. We’re going to his office so he can feel business-like and detached, away from the crowds. Maybe he thinks I’ll make a scene and this is his best chance of damage limitation. I saw the way he avoided me earlier; didn’t want to be associated with the crazy cow lying in the field.

Eventually the lift judders to a halt and Tom flings back the metal concertina grille. He taps on another security pad and leads me through a door. A sudden gust of invigorating cold air billows all around us as Tom starts climbing up a long narrow flight of steps. I quickly follow behind. And we’re outside. I can see the Christmas lights of Mulberry-On-Sea twinkling all around us and it looks magical. Breathtaking.

‘Close your eyes,’ Tom says. I do as I’m told, relishing the thrill of this utterly exquisite secret adventure, and I might as well make the most of this time with him – it could be the last we have together. I can feel Tom’s hands on my face making sure I don’t peep. I shiver with the sensation of his warm body up close against my back. ‘Take five steps forward.’ He turns me around and whispers into my ear, his breath hot on my cold skin. ‘Now you can open them.’ And I do. The circular ice rink glistens before me, bathed in a golden glow from the giant neon Carrington’s sign high above us. I gasp. It’s incredible. Amazing. Like something out of a fairytale.

After pulling off his jacket, Tom swings it around my shoulders and leads me over to the wooden skate-hire booth, deftly flipping the padlock free and opening the door.

‘What are you doing? Kelly will go mad if we break in,’ I say, the feeling of danger and excitement making my voice sound all breathy.

‘Well, it
is
my store. I can do what I like,’ he smiles, quickly kicking off his shoes. ‘What size?’ He glances at my feet. ‘Mmm, a five I reckon.’ He gestures for my heels. I quickly slip them off and pull on the skates. He flicks a switch and a swingy Rat Pack song starts playing. ‘And we need heat, it’s freezing up here,’ he says, selecting another switch and helping himself to a couple of padded body warmers from a coat stand in the corner behind the till. He puts one on and hands the other to me. ‘That should do it.’ I leave my clutch on the bench and turn to see. Around the rink’s perimeter are a trillion tiny halogen heat lamps studded into the safety wall, twinkling and looking utterly beautiful.

On the ice, and Tom is a pro, or so it seems. He leads me into the centre and twirls me around and around before gliding us to a halt. We’re standing opposite each other, with me clinging to his arm, hoping I manage to stay upright.

‘Now we can talk,’ he says.

‘Oh, I see.’ I raise an eyebrow and try to ignore the knot forming in my stomach.

‘Which is what we should have done, the last time we were together.’

‘But you didn’t have time,’ I say, gripping his arm tighter as my skates wobble on the slippery ice.

‘Well, I have time now,’ he replies, not missing a beat, and graciously forgetting that I had said the same.

‘So what’s changed then?’ I say, searching his eyes.

‘Well, what I really meant that day in my office was that I couldn’t talk right then, but before I could explain why, you had gone.’ I study his face.

‘But you didn’t come after me.’ I quiz, and my forehead creases.

‘I couldn’t. I had Kelly herding me towards a car waiting to take me to the airport, and Zara suggesting I let you cool off and … ’ His voice trails off.

‘But you must have known Zara had her own agenda, that she was after you. I saw the way she was all over you that day in your office.’

‘Not exactly.’ He glances away.

‘What do you mean,
not exactly?
’ I venture, immediately wondering if I really want to know.

‘Just that it, well, it happens all the time,’ he shrugs, and looks a bit embarrassed.

‘What does?’ I ask quietly.

‘Nothing.’ He shakes his head. ‘Forget I said anything. Come on, let’s look at the stars,’ he adds to change the subject.

‘But you can’t say something like that and then not carry on.’ He avoids my gaze by looking up at the sky.

‘OK. What I meant is that I’m used to it, I suppose,’ he starts, slowly. ‘But I’ve become immune. Women flirt … ’ he says, before quickly adding, ‘it doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Well I don’t. I wouldn’t dream of pawing a man like Zara does,’ I sniff. ‘And Kelly, she was just as bad – doing her cougar act all over you.’ He smiles softly.

‘And that’s why you’re like no other woman I’ve ever known before,’ he says softly.

‘I’m not?’ I grin and raise an eyebrow.

‘Most definitely not. Look, I don’t want to talk about other women, so can we drop this and talk about us?’ And the way he says ‘us’ – so intimately – makes my heart lift and my guard lower. He moves in a little closer.

‘Sure. But for the record, when I first saw myself on TV looking ridiculous … well, I felt really betrayed, as if I what we had together meant nothing much at all to you.’

‘I understand that now.’ He pauses to study my face for a moment. ‘Georgie, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the show.’ He tilts his head to one side. ‘I should have put my foot down and explained to the board, or I could have just told you anyway, and then sworn you to secrecy.’

‘And I wouldn’t have said a word, I really wouldn’t have.’

‘I guess I just got swept away with it all, trying to do what was best for Carrington’s without even thinking about what was best for me, or for us.’ He smiles, making his beautiful face look younger, boyish and even more irresistible.

‘Well, I’m sorry too. You couldn’t tell me – I understand that. I overreacted. I got … ’ My voice falters.

‘Got what?’ he asks, gently lifting my chin.

‘Scared I guess.’ I look away.

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know, because … ’ I clutch onto his elbow with both hands, determined to stay upright, but unable to say the words out loud. That I love him. That I was petrified of getting hurt again, like I have been so many times in the past.

‘Please don’t be scared. I can’t promise that I won’t get something wrong or that I’ll never hurt you ever again, but I can make a damn good effort to try not to … if you’ll let me?’ he says tenderly, his beautiful brown eyes searching mine. ‘I really missed you. When I was away from you, it felt like forever at times.’ And I know exactly what he means. These last weeks have felt like a lifetime to me. My heart melts and I really want to kiss him, and for everything to be good between us again. To forget everything that’s happened. Everything I’ve seen on the television screen in my shoebox flat.

‘But it’s not as easy as that,’ I say.

‘Yes it is. Unless you don’t want to … or perhaps you’ve moved on. Things are different now, I understand that. You’re a celebrity, you’re in demand. I saw the magazines. The PR things. The stunning picture of you in that ‘girls we’d most like to date’ chart in some blokes’ magazine.’ He smiles wryly. Wow! I didn’t know about that. Momentarily, I allow myself to feel really chuffed and ponder on how things have turned around. When I first met Tom, I felt ordinary, and that he was out of my league. Now it seems that’s not the case at all.

‘But what about Valentina?’ I ask, as my mind rakes through all of the emotions I’ve encountered while he was away. I can’t just ignore them and fall back into his arms and ultimately his bed, no matter how much I want him.

‘Valentina? What’s she got to do with this?’ His forehead creases.

‘Err, aren’t you two … well, I know she isn’t here tonight, but then it is Christmas, so maybe she wanted to stay in Brazil with her family, or maybe she couldn’t get a visa or something, I don’t know, I just … ’ I shrug awkwardly.

‘Georgie. Please stop talking for a moment.’ And I do. I stand motionless listening to Dean Martin singing ‘Let It Snow’ as I wait for the moment of truth.

‘Valentina is spending Christmas in Rio.’

‘OK.’ I swallow hard and focus on the lyrics – ‘corn for popping … and
the fire slowly dying
’. Oh God.

‘With her girlfriend!’ He shakes his head and gives me a look of sheer exasperation.

‘Her … Oh, I see,’ I mutter, feeling like a complete and utter idiot, but as the realisation of what he’s saying sinks in, my pulse quickens and my heart soars.

‘So it was just a showmance after all,’ I say, relief flooding through me.

‘That’s right, Valentina was only in the show because she happened to be in Corsica at a jewellery convention, and when I took the opportunity of meeting up with her to explain that we wouldn’t be stocking her pieces any more, unfortunately they just don’t sell well in Carrington’s, anyway, KCTV suggested the beach scene – Valentina is a keen horse rider. I thought you knew, I did ask Kelly to mention it, I was conscious of how it might come across, especially after the way things were left between us.’

‘Maybe she forgot,’ I suggest magnanimously. More likely she deliberately wanted me to think Tom had moved on so she could film me out on dates because it’s like Hannah said – ‘viewers love all that’. It was all staged, purely to entertain the viewers. And after tonight’s performance, it’s pretty obvious that Kelly will do anything for the show.

‘Maybe. But you really must stop putting two and two together, it’s not good for you.’
Hmmm. Ain’t that the truth?

‘Well, you can talk. What about ignoring me for weeks, and then not even saying hello when you got here tonight,’ I say, sticking my index finger in the air and instantly regretting it when my right leg slip-slides around for a bit and I end up headbutting his chest before flipping backwards with a speed that could induce whiplash.

‘Whoa. Don’t think you’re ready for the Boléro just yet.’ He helps me to steady myself. ‘You OK?’ I nod. ‘Good. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but like I explained earlier, it was difficult. I was crazy busy all day, and then when I got my phone back and saw that you hadn’t called—’

‘But I had called.’

‘Yes, we know that now. But I didn’t at the time. I assumed that you weren’t interested any more. I always planned on trying to make things right when I got back home. Anyway, you ignored me too.’

‘I did not.’

‘Yes you did. When I get back to Mulberry-On-Sea, I couldn’t bear it any longer and called you, but you didn’t pick up. And then I saw you with another guy, and well … it made sense. I had let you down and you’d moved on … ’ He called! Oh my God. After all that angst, he actually called! But hang on. ‘What call?’ I quickly ask, racking my brains. If he did call, then why didn’t I know? I definitely would have answered it. Most definitely.

‘I can’t remember the exact time, but it was the same night I saw you in the street kissing the other guy.’ He looks away. There’s a short silence. And then I remember. Oh my God. In the bar. The number I didn’t recognise …
because I’d erased him from my phone
. From my life. It was Tom. And to think that I’d longed for him to call me. Yearned even. And then when he did, I ignored him. I mentally kick myself and make a pact to never ever delete his numbers again.

‘So I assumed you had moved on? I knew you’d been on dates with a famous singer. You looked really happy together on the bandstand. Zara showed me the magazine pictures of you two together.’
Hmmm, I bet she did.

‘Well, I thought you had moved on too, with Zara. The voiceover guy even said that you might rekindle love with an old flame.’

‘Did he really?’ Tom says, sounding surprised. ‘I didn’t bother watching any of the film footage; just felt a bit weird seeing myself on TV.’ He shrugs. ‘And she was never an old flame. A friend, more like … or so I thought. We’ve known each other since childhood.’

‘Oh, but I thought you used to be an item,’ I say, remembering the Google picture of them kissing.

‘No, never. Yes, Zara would often be in the same nightclub as me when I did that whole Chelsea scene as a student – not really my thing, and well … I guess she can be a bit enthusiastic at times when it comes to public displays of affection, she was forever catching me off guard,’ he explains modestly. ‘Especially if there’s a pap hanging around. Zara loves featuring in the society pages of
Hello!
magazine and would often lunge in for a kiss on camera. She’s a player, always has been. Everyone in Chelsea knows it.’