Christmas at Tiffany's (26 page)

‘Well, it’s just occurred to me that maybe . . .’ he cried, as his amusement took a proper hold . . . ‘All this talk about maidens and padlocks! I hope to God he’s not going to follow this up with a chastity belt!’

‘So what did you get?’ Cassie asked. Luke’s pyjamas were hanging loosely off her shoulders and she had her hands around a mug of wake-me-gently-I’m-not-a-morning-person tea. This was the problem with Skype. You had to be dressed for it.

‘Well, Arch was
very
naughty,’ Suzy beamed. ‘I told him not to spend too much money on me,’ she said loudly, before leaning in to the screen and whispering: ‘You were right – the Post-its worked a treat!’

She was dressed in a new cream Temperley dress with gold embroidery and butterfly sleeves. It was half past two in the afternoon in London and the telly was on mute behind her as they waited for the Queen’s Speech. In the background, Cassie kept getting flashes of the Sallyford Christmas – Lacey wafting through the room looking delectable in a pink chiffon tea-dress, Hattie arranging the flowers on the dining table, Henry clattering around with bottles, a purple paper crown skew-whiff on his head, and Archie intermittently popping his head round the doorway, red-faced and brandishing carving weapons.

‘How about you?’

‘Well, Kelly and I did our presents practically at dawn this morning – she’s spending the day with Brett’s folks so they can go through the wedding plans together – and would you believe it? We ended up giving each other the
same
Louis Vuitton scarf!’

‘No!’

‘Oh yeah.’

‘You’ve become clones,’ Suzy teased.

‘Well, wasn’t that the point?’ Cassie quipped. ‘I guess it means I qualify as a fully-fledged Manhattanite now.’

‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ Suzy said, shaking her head. ‘Just you wait till I get you in London. We’ll soon have you out of black and into prints!’

‘And eating carbs, I hope.’

‘Defo! Hang on – what?’ she asked, turning round to someone behind her. ‘Oh, right.’ She turned back, a grimace on her face. ‘Archie’s having a fit in the kitchen. Something about the turkey fighting back. I’m gonna have to go.’

‘Sure. Well, Happy Christmas to you – and the family!’ She said the last bit a little louder, hoping to attract Henry’s attention, but he had gone out of the room. She desperately wanted to thank him for the necklace – even if it was faulty, it was still a remarkably generous present – but she felt awkward, for some reason, doing it in front of Lacey.

Hattie coo-eed from across the room. ‘Bye, Cassie darling! Come and see me when you’re back in Old Blighty! And well done you for not taking any nonsense from that errant husband of yours. Such a silly tosser cheating on a precious girl like you.’

‘Mother!’ Suzy hissed. ‘It’s hardly the time . . . Anyway, she’s got a boyfriend! She’s very happy.’ She turned back, rolling her eyes apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

Cassie shook her head. ‘No worries.’ The doorbell buzzed. ‘I think that’s Luke arriving now. I’ll catch you before I leave for . . . you know.’ Bas and Luke weren’t the only ones struggling to say the P-word now.

She opened the door for him, snaking her arms around his neck as his hands locked casually around her waist and he kissed her deeply. She’d left him shortly after the present opening, having promised to spend the evening with Kelly.

‘Merry Christmas, Cass,’ he said, his voice hoarse as he looked at her, still mussed up from sleeping. ‘I wish I’d caught a picture of you waking this morning,’ he sighed, skimming his hand over her hair.

‘Well, it wasn’t a pretty sight, I can assure you. Kelly and I drank far too much mulled wine.’

‘It’s the most beautiful sight,’ he countered, kissing her again. ‘How’s Suzy?’

‘Oh, revelling in her cunningness.’

‘Revelling in what?’ he grinned

Cassie giggled, slapping him. ‘Filthy boy.’

He began unbuttoning her – his – pyjama top, which slid easily off her shoulder.

‘Oi! This is supposed to be a family broadcast, you know!’

Cassie jumped, startled. What?

‘Over here!’

She looked down at the laptop. Skype was still running.

‘Oh my God!’ she said, clutching her top to her and running over. ‘I thought I’d disconnected.’

Henry shrugged. ‘Clearly not.’

‘No.’

A silence stretched out over the width of the choppy Atlantic, as she struggled to cover herself up.

‘I . . . I wanted to speak to you anyway,’ she said, managing a smile. ‘To thank you for this.’ She fingered the padlock that she had managed to secure to the chain by looping it through the safety chain. She hoped he wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t his fault that it was faulty. ‘I absolutely love it. But it’s far, far too generous, Henry. You
really
shouldn’t have.’

‘Henry?’ Luke said coming up behind her. ‘This is him, then?’ he asked rudely, peering at the screen.

Cassie winced. She’d felt awkward at the prospect of thanking him in front of Lacey. It hadn’t crossed her mind that it would be worse in front of Luke.

The two men squared up online, displaying jutting jaws and narrowed eyes and manly nods.

‘Luke Laidlaw, Cassie’s boyfriend.’ He said the word with a certain defiance. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘Henry Sallyford,’ Henry muttered with as much dignity as he could whilst wearing a purple paper crown.

‘We’re having a ball with your list, aren’t we, Cass?’ Luke said, placing a proprietorial hand on Cassie’s shoulder. She nodded, though what she really wanted to do was kick him in the shins. He was behaving like a jerk. ‘Yeah . . . went to the library yesterday, then on to Tiffany’s. Got my mother’s present sorted too, so thanks for that.’

‘Great,’ Henry said, and Cassie could tell from his face how furious he was to have his list – itself a gift with all the experiences and treasures it gave her – bandied about like some YouTube link.

The stilted three-way conversation lapsed into crackling silence again.

‘Well, better go. Lunch is on the table . . . Happy Christmas and all that jazz,’ Henry said finally.

‘Yeah, you too, Henry. Give my best to Lacey.’

He looked at her, and nodded briefly. Then the screen turned to snow.

‘Well, that went well,’ Luke said, straightening up and walking away. ‘Good to put a face to the list at last.’

‘Yes,’ Cassie murmured, feeling upset by the conversation. Henry had clearly gone to a lot of trouble setting up her New York Christmas surprises, and her thanks in return had been clumsy and graceless. She wished the past five minutes had never happened.

She wandered in to the bedroom, buttoning up her pyjama top. Luke was in there, two black boxes – one little, one large – next to him on the bed. ‘Don’t say those are for me,’ she gasped, wondering whether yesterday’s trip had prompted some kind of psychotic box envy.

‘Well, they’re not for Kelly. Come on. Open them.’ He threw himself back on the bed, his ankles crossed, arms behind his head, a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

She clapped her hands, her discomfort forgotten, and ran across the room to pull off the lids. Inside the smallest was a pair of black leather gloves, lined in cashmere and trimmed with rabbit fur.

‘The fur’s a by-product,’ he said quickly, checking her reaction. ‘I wasn’t sure of your take on that.’

She stroked them gently. ‘Luke, I have skinned and stewed more rabbits than you would care to know,’ she quipped, sliding them over her hands.

‘Really?’ He gazed at her as she held her hands up like a Beaton model. ‘Your other life sounds . . . so different from all this,’ he said. He sat up and leaned in towards her, like a child trying to get his mother’s attention. ‘Do you think we would have liked each other if we’d met in those surroundings instead?’

Cassie grimaced. ‘Probably not. You’d have thought I was a terrible square.’

He laughed at her old-fashioned choice of words – a clue that she had indeed once been a terrible square. ‘And what would you have thought about me? That I was sleazy?’

She pulled a glove off and threw it at him. ‘Give it a rest will you! God, you’ll never let me hear the end of it. One lousy comment and I have to pay for it for . . .’

‘For the rest of all time? Yes!’ he said, springing up and cupping her face in his hands. They kissed, and for a few moments forgot about the boxes between them.

‘Come on then,’ he said, pulling away reluctantly. ‘You’d better open this before I decide we skip Christmas lunch altogether.’

Cassie raised an eyebrow. ‘Bas would have something to say about that. He’d come over brandishing red-hot straightening irons.’

‘Ouch.’

She slid the lid off the big box, her eyes as bright as an eight-year-old’s. She gasped as her hands flew up to her mouth. ‘It’s the one I was admiring the other week,’ she whispered, lifting out a navy blue Moncler padded coat. It had been in the window of Barneys.

‘Here, try it on,’ he said, slipping it on over her pyjamas. He pushed her hair back behind her ears and pulled up the hood. A thick swathe of fur encircled her face, Eskimo-style.

‘Oooh, I’ll sleep in it too – on the nights when I’m not with you,’ she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm.

‘There shouldn’t be any of those,’ he murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She looked up and kissed him again. ‘It’s too much. You’re spoiling me.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, pressing the tip of her nose gently. ‘You’re in New York. You’ve got to keep warm.’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘No buts . . . you’re always shivering in that parka. And it’s not going to get any easier over the next few weeks. Wait till February hits. That’s when the fun really starts.’ He kissed her gently. ‘Now, get dressed. I’ll ring Bas and let him know we’re just leaving. You can wear it on the way over there.’

He stroked her chin and winked, padding off towards the living room, pulling his mobile from his back pocket.

Cassie watched him, rooted to the spot.

February?

She pressed her nose to the glass and looked down the twelve storeys to the ground below. Everything had changed overnight and she was as captivated as a child.

‘Honestly, anyone would think you’d never seen snow before,’ Kelly said, shrugging on her coat. She and Brett were seeing in the new year at the Waldorf Astoria, where there was a black-tie ball.

Cassie turned to look at her friend – her flatmate for one more day. She was privately devastated that they were spending this last night apart. It was the end of their adventure; they ought to be together. In fairness, Kelly had tried to persuade her and Luke to come too. And Cassie would have done. It would have been fun to have had one last hurrah all together, spending all night awake with her friends in the city that never sleeps.

But Luke had been adamant he wanted to spend it with her alone. He didn’t want to ‘share’ her with a bunch of strangers, he’d said. And anyway, he hated wearing a ‘penguin suit’.

She cast an admiring eye over Kelly’s dress. It was the same one as Cassie had worn on her last night in Scotland, but in a different colourway – black silk with nude lace inserts. And she was wearing it differently too – knowing, provocative, seductive. Not embarrassed and thinking she was out in her nightie.

‘You look stunning,’ Cassie smiled, shaking her head through teary eyes. ‘Brett’s going to be so proud walking in with you.’

Kelly looked at her sitting huddled by the window, her hand absent-mindedly brushing over the top of her lawn. It had become something of a soothing habit.

‘There’s still time, you know,’ she said, sitting down next to her. ‘I know the Head of Events over there. I could get your name put on the—’

Cassie shook her head. ‘No, it won’t make any difference. Luke’s insistent we spend it together.’

Kelly opened her mouth as if to say something . . . then changed her mind and bit her lip.

‘He’s nuts about you. That’s the problem,’ Kelly said, patting her knee. ‘Who’d have thought it? You come to New York having no idea
at all
about the fashion industry – who’s Oscar de La Renta, Kelly? Who’s the editor of
Vogue
? . . .’ Cassie blanched and Kelly squeezed her knee . . . ‘And yet you end up taming its prodigal son. I didn’t know you had it in you,’ she said fondly. ‘Look, I’ll be back first thing, okay? We’ll have breakfast together at Sant Ambroeus – for old times’ sake.’

‘Sure,’ Cassie said, taking a deep, brave breath.

The buzzer rang. ‘That’ll be Brett. I’m meeting him in the lobby,’ Kelly said, getting up.

‘I’ll walk down with you,’ said Cassie, pulling her new coat from the back of the sofa.

‘Are you going to be all right on your own? I’d offer to take you to Luke’s in our cab, but we’re going in the opposite direction,’ Kelly said apologetically.

‘Don’t worry. I’m going to walk. I love walking in the snow.’

Kelly grimaced. ‘Have you got any suitable boots? You don’t want to wear your leather ones in the snow. They’ll get trashed.’