Christmas in the Snow (18 page)

‘Allegra Fisher, Isobel Watson and Ferdy,’ Allegra said.

‘Would you prefer to go into one of the consulting suites? It’s more private in there, and there are changing areas too?’

‘We’re not buying for ourselves, so we don’t need to try things on,’ Allegra said. ‘And frankly, I’m not sure any of us want to be locked in a confined space
with him when he’s this hungry.’

‘Oh yes. Quite.’ Tanya looked across at Ferdy in alarm, before opening her iPad and quickly taking some personal details from Allegra to find her account. ‘So then, what is it
you’re looking for today?’ Tanya asked, directing the question to Allegra, the bearer of the black card.

‘My sister needs a jacket for her husband.’

‘Something khaki – you know, military style – but nothing too . . . tricksy,’ Isobel said, going into freestyle as she started doing side lunges. Ferdy seemed a lot
happier with that lateral motion – maybe because it brought him to within swiping distance of the lamps. ‘No braiding or badges. No hood.’

‘I know
exactly
what you’re after,’ Tanya said confidently, her head moving left and right to maintain eye contact.

‘And it must have lots of pockets – you know, like big enough to get a nappy in.’

‘Oh, uh . . .’

Isobel gave her a desperate look, realizing she’d lost their connection. ‘Do you have kids?’

Tanya shook her head.

‘No,’ Isobel sighed, feeling ridiculous and misunderstood.

‘Um, what size is he, your husband?’

‘Medium.’

‘Do you happen to have a photo of him?’

‘Totally,’ Isobel said, stopping the lunges and immediately beginning to scan the photos on her phone for the most flattering picture. Lloyd wasn’t, in Allegra’s opinion,
very photogenic and seemed to have a special skill of blinking at the exact point the shutter closed. Ferdy began to munter again and Isobel resumed quick heel raises.

Please, not star jumps, Allegra thought to herself, her arms and legs crossed. ‘While Isobel’s doing that, we need something for our mother too. We were thinking maybe . . .’
Allegra automatically looked to Isobel for help – she was the designated present-buyer in the family – but she was engrossed in their photos from Turkey and trying to find one that
didn’t make Lloyd’s tummy look too big. ‘Well, she feels the cold, so maybe something in cashmere or sheepskin.’

‘Does she enjoy going on walks? Is she a gardener?’

‘She enjoys walking in the garden,’ Allegra said more quietly, aware she was making her mother sound like a Victorian lady of leisure.

‘How old is she?’

‘Sixty-six.’ Too young to be where she was.

‘I see. And her colouring, build . . . ?’

‘Grey hair, dark brown eyes, medium height, slim build. Classic style – roll-neck jumpers and twinsets, pastel colours. A regular fourteen now.’

‘OK, good. Well, I can think of a fair few things that you may like.’

‘Here’s one!’ Isobel cried, leaping enthusiastically over to the sofa where Tanya was sitting. Lloyd was scrambling, bare-chested, over some rocks, and from the angle all you
could really see of him were his shoulders and arms (he must have been holding his tummy in), but his eyes looked nice.

‘Oh, he’s so handsome!’ Tanya said, bonding with Isobel, the less fearsome sister. ‘I have just the thing for him.’ She looked back at Allegra. ‘And is that
everything on your list?’

Allegra turned to her sister. ‘Do you need some stocking-fillers?’

‘Legs!’ Isobel wailed, throwing her arms up behind her and trying to cover Ferdy’s ears.

‘Iz, he’s ten months old. I don’t think Santa’s secret is out
just
yet.’

Tanya laughed confidingly and rose. ‘Strictly speaking, we don’t cover childrenswear or toys up here, but let me see what I can do. I’ve ordered the refreshments to be brought
up to you, so they should be here any moment. My colleague Mary is in the adjoining suite, so if you need anything at all while I’m gone, please do knock. She’s in the blue suite, just
there.’

She pointed to a closed door with a number ‘8’ on it. ‘And there are plenty of magazines at your disposal. Our iPads are set to our designers’ collections if you’re
interested.’

‘Ooooh yes,’ Isobel said interestedly, leaning forward to retrieve one from a low table, so that Ferdy almost slid out of the backpack head first.

‘Whoa!’ Allegra cried, lunging forward to stop him as Tanya looked on, open-mouthed in horror. ‘Steady there, buster.’ She helped right him, his bawls growing louder by
the minute – almost jumping back as she saw that his nose needed a wipe. ‘Oh, uh, Iz . . . his . . . his nose,’ she grimaced. ‘Gross.’

‘OK, so then . . . I’ll . . .’ Tanya called over the noise, gesturing that she was going to the lifts and clearly concerned about leaving the trio unattended.

‘Great. Just great,’ Isobel muttered, pulling a stiff hanky from her jeans back pocket and trying to catch hold of Ferdy’s head behind her own, but he was reaching a new
crescendo. ‘Dammit, we can’t afford to wait for lunch to come up. Can you check in my bag? There’s a carton of milk and a bottle in there.’

The noise was growing so loud that Allegra was beginning to feel disoriented and panicky, and she handed it over with trembling hands.

Isobel expertly decanted the contents into a small empty bottle and shook it vigorously like it was a fancy cocktail. Then she sank onto the nearest sofa cushion. ‘Quick! Get him out of
this contraption for me. We’re going to get thrown out if he keeps this up.’

It was true – they were. Even unlimited credit came with some provisos. If all these other suites were occupied . . .

Allegra fiddled with the straps and hoisted the distressed child clear, trying to make sure his foot didn’t connect with Isobel’s head. ‘Here, just let me give it to him. You
must have tinnitus from him screaming next to your ear like that.’

Allegra leaned back as far as she dared and, grabbing the bottle, settled back with Ferdy in her arms, his little hands patting the sides rhythmically as he immediately began to glug. His eyes
closed as he drank and both women revelled in the sudden, loud peace, just as a door – door 8 – opened and a stern-looking woman stepped out.

‘Tanya?’ she asked, grim-faced and tight-lipped.

Isobel stopped flicking through American
Vogue
and turned on her seat to face her. ‘Tanya’s gone down to the shop floor,’ she said brightly. ‘She said she
wouldn’t be long.’

The woman looked at Isobel as though surprised she had responded, before catching sight of Ferdy hungrily drinking the milk. It was clear he was – or had been – the source of her
displeasure. ‘I see. Thank you.’ And she disappeared into room 8 again.

Isobel turned back and pulled a face. ‘Oops. She looked pissed off.’

‘Maybe this wasn’t one of my better ideas,’ Allegra murmured, looking down at Ferdy, who – now clean-faced and silent – had the cheek to look angelic.
‘They’re trying to sell thousands of pounds’ worth of clothes and Ferdy here’s on a one-man mission to blow the walls down.’

‘He’ll be OK now,’ Isobel said, gazing at her son adoringly for a moment, before quickly picking up one of the iPads. ‘I wonder if they’ve got Isabel Marant on
here.’

Somewhere down the corridor could be heard the sound of a fire door being opened and, shortly afterwards, footsteps on the wooden floor. Allegra looked up as two assistants set down trays
– one piled high with cloud-soft finger sandwiches, chopped fruit, juice and a strawberry mousse, and on the other, some olives, crisps and two fizzing glasses of champagne.

Both sisters eyed the glasses hungrily. If ever champagne had been earned, shopping in Selfridges two Fridays before Christmas with a teething, hungry baby in tow qualified them for a free
flute.

‘Cheers!’ Isobel beamed, handing Allegra her glass, and they each took a sip, but Allegra didn’t warm to the taste. Her body wasn’t receptive to more alcohol so soon
after the martinis, and besides, what did she have to celebrate?

Her mind wandered back to the night before as a silent but insistent buzz in her pocket made her stiffen suddenly, and she awkwardly shifted position, trying to free her phone from her jeans.
Ferdy didn’t protest. His tummy was filling nicely and so long as nothing came between him and the milk, peace was assured. She clicked on the screen and, seeing the name on it, instantly
pocketed the phone again with a scowl, just as door 8 opened once more and the grumpy woman who’d been looking for Tanya emerged. She walked past Isobel and Allegra like they weren’t
there, even though Isobel – who was mid-bite of a sandwich – had politely half turned in her seat. Allegra’s eyes followed the woman as she marched officiously across the floor
– her arms laden with black and red ski kit – towards a desk in the next section. Setting down the clothes on a nearby chair, she began typing away at the keyboard, frowning as she
peered at the screen, all the while looking very important.

A man came out of room 8, buttoning the jacket on his suit and glancing across at them as he briskly walked towards the saleswoman. He stopped abruptly.

‘Fisher? What the hell are
you
doing here?’

Isobel’s eyes widened at hearing her sister being referred to by her surname.

It took Allegra a couple of moments to respond. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she replied lightly, lifting Ferdy in her arms slightly. Sometimes her ability to mask her shock/upset/
fear/hurt (delete as appropriate) amazed even her. Sam took in the high tea, the scattered magazines, Allegra’s uncharacteristic clothes, the feeding baby in her arms.

He frowned. ‘Not really, no.’

Allegra didn’t reply and simply looked back down at Ferdy, not trusting her voice to carry off an insouciance she didn’t feel. The brutality of last night’s events rushed back
at her with fresh power and she felt the adrenalin spike into her muscles. Everything had, after all, ignited because of him – what he’d whispered to Pierre, what he’d said to
Zhou. If he’d never brought Zhou to the damned party . . . If he’d never moved to London . . . If he’d never been on that plane . . . in that lift . . .

‘I tried calling you all night!’ he said, stepping closer, his eyes moving warily to Isobel before resting on Allegra again.

‘And, funnily enough, I was sleeping.’

‘I doubt that.’

Her eyes snapped to his and immediately away again.

‘You could have returned my calls.’

‘Could I? Why? What is it I owe you exactly?’ Her tone had hardened, flecks of venom glistening in her words. ‘You got what you wanted.’

He was quiet for a few beats and Allegra stared down into Ferdy’s deep blue eyes, which were wide and fixed upon her like she was the sun in his sky.

‘I need to see your last report, what you were working on with Bob this week. We’ll need it for the new pitch.’

What? Her head whipped up again.
That
was his only concern?

‘Fuck. You,’ she said with ominous quiet.

Isobel’s jaw dropped down. She didn’t like bad language to be used in front of Ferds, but something – call it survival instinct – told her now wasn’t the time to
bring it up.

Behind her, Allegra heard the gentle ping of the lift doors, Sam’s eyes raising up as he saw Tanya heading towards them.

‘Enjoy your ski trip,’ she said with withering sarcasm. ‘At least you’ll look the part.’ Her eyes flickered towards the matron ringing up his clothes by the desk as
Tanya rounded the corner with a small wheeled trolley, already impressively stacked with polythene-gloved clothes, and Allegra thought she must have run around the designer floors like it was a
supermarket sweep.

‘Ladies . . .’ Tanya said, smiling first politely at Sam, then more brightly as she took in the finer details of his face. But Sam didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at
Allegra, who, in turn, was again suddenly engrossed in watching Ferdy feed.

‘It’s OK,’ Allegra smiled, looking up at her. ‘He was just leaving.’

Tanya’s face fell as Sam walked off, the tension in his shoulders clear even from behind. She recovered quickly, pushing the rack of clothes towards the sisters, but Isobel wasn’t
interested in jackets for Lloyd right now.

‘Who the hell was
that
?’ Isobel hissed, getting up and collapsing on the same sofa as her sister.

‘A creep I used to work with.’

‘He called you Fisher.’

Allegra looked at her sister and shook her head lightly. If
that
shocked her . . . ‘Yes.’ She looked down at her nephew feeding peacefully in her arms. The milk seemed to
have made him sleepy.

Isobel carried on staring at her. ‘Well, he may be a creep, but he’s a gorgeous creep. You can see that, right?’

Allegra didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

‘You’re sure you couldn’t just . . . overlook the creep bit?’

‘Oh, are you kidding me?’ Allegra snapped. ‘Were you just sitting here or not? Which bit of mutual contempt didn’t you get?’

Isobel frowned quizzically, falling so far back in the cushions that she was practically horizontal. But she knew better than to say another word.

Traffic was heavy along Park Lane, thanks to roadworks outside the Grosvenor, and their taxi driver seemed to be lacking in festive spirit as he cussed at every motorist, biker
and cyclist who tried to get past. Isobel didn’t notice. She was far too busy peering into all the bags bundled by their feet – admiring over and again the bounty of gifts that Allegra
had bought without even glancing at the price tags. With the Christmas shopping sorted and Ferdy sleeping, Allegra should have felt relaxed, but instead she was digging her nails into the palms of
her hand, feeling perilously close to tears.

Her phone buzzed again and she pulled it out of her pocket with a frown.

‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Isobel asked, watching her sister’s expression harden.

Allegra glanced up at her. ‘No.’

‘Your phone’s been going off all day.’

‘My phone is always going off,’ Allegra murmured, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation about it. As much as she’d tried to downplay the shock of bumping into Sam in
Selfridges, the truth was, it had undone her resolve to stay calm and it was harder now to pretend she was fine.