Miracle on Regent Street (53 page)

Well, almost.

By 1 a.m. we’re all flagging. Lily has just handed out a round of hot chocolate when a grinning Jan Baptysta comes in with four burly Polish men all dragging an enormous
Norwegian pine, and we all applaud as they lay it on the floor.

‘I had to callsk in some reinforcements,’ explains Jan. ‘Everybody say hello to Alesky, Viktor and Konrad. They havsk been working on a Christmas tree farm in Essex and opened
up late so I could come and choossk one!’

‘It’s HUGE!’ I squeal, clapping my hands excitedly like a seal. ‘Are we going to be able to put it up ourselves?’

‘
Nie
problem, Evie, leave it to us. We haves more reinforcements comings. However, we would be verys grateful for some of that chocolate drink, OK?’

‘Coming right up, Jan!’ Lily says, and scuttles off to her tearoom.

Jan’s arrival is just the lift we all need. The next three hours pass quickly as the tree is hauled into place by the burly Polish men. Then all we have to do is decorate
it, which is a feat involving ladders and assembly lines. It is nearly 5 a.m. by the time we finish, all collapsing on the floor in a tired but happy huddle as we sit and survey our work.

It’s clear to us as we gaze in awed silence that Hardy’s is a store transformed. Gone is the sad, faded, lifeless shop it used to be, and in it’s place is a joyful, glittering
wonderland of bygone Christmases.

‘It looks beautiful,’ breathes Lily tearfully. ‘It reminds me of the good old days,’ and everyone murmurs their agreement.

‘Fingers crossed everyone else thinks so, too,’ I say, and silence descends as we consider the terrible alternative.

‘Of course they will!’ Sam responds – Mr Positive, as ever – and I smile at him gratefully.

‘Thank you, everyone,’ I say, feeling my throat constrict with emotion. ‘You’ve been amazing. Now go and get some rest. I can do the remainder of the clearing up
here.’

Everyone is so exhausted that they don’t even argue; they just throw on their coats and file out of the store. Everyone except Sam, who starts sweeping the rogue pine needles off the
floor.

‘You too, Sam,’ I say. ‘Honestly, I just need to take all these boxes back to the stockroom and sort a few things out.’

‘Don’t be silly, I’m not leaving you now,’ Sam says gruffly, putting down the broom and scooping up an armful of empty boxes. ‘Race you back to the stockroom. Last
one there has to make the tea!’

Friday 16 December

9 Shopping Days Until Christmas

I
open my eyes and rub them, shivering a little despite the blanket that has been thrown carefully over my body. My cheek is wet, presumably
because of the pool of dribble that has escaped from my mouth whilst I was sleeping, and my eyes are sticky from falling asleep with my contacts in. Sam helped me tidy up and put away all the boxes
and then we sat on the sofa, talking about our lives and drinking tea until dawn broke. Or until I fell asleep, I’m not sure which. I vaguely remember leaning my head against Sam’s
shoulder just as he said he had to go and start his deliveries. He must have waited until I was asleep and then put this blanket over me. Part of me can’t help but wish that he’d
stayed. But Sam’s just a friend. He’s with Ella, and besides, I still haven’t spoken to Joel and found out what the hell he has been doing.

Part of me wants to put off confronting him; I don’t need to know that he was using me and that he never liked me at all. As much as things were complicated when I was trying to be Carly,
it also felt like life was finally going my way. And the attention I got from Joel was a big part of that. If it really was all just an act, then I’m back to square one. Back to being me:
invisible, forgettable, me. But then again, maybe it’s better that way. Everything is back to its natural order.

I yawn and throw the blanket over the arm of the sofa, smacking my lips and trying to work out if I can substitute gum for toothpaste and if a strong coffee will overpower my morning breath or
just enable it. I splash water on my face from the sink and pull my hair back into a ponytail, wrapping a thick strand tightly around the elastic band to make it look more finished. My days of
letting myself go have gone, even when I’ve been up all night and have only the prospect of a long day in the stockroom to look forward to. Not for Joel; not for anyone else other than me.
The tea dress I wore to the pub last night has managed to stay remarkably fresh and crease-free, and with a lick of lipstick, a swipe of deodorant and squirt of Chanel No. 5 from my handbag,
I’m just about ready to face the morning. Or at the very least, get through it.

‘Oh my God!’ shouts Carly as she suddenly bounds through the stockroom door, making me jump. ‘You have to come here, now!’ and she runs over, grabs me by the arm and
drags me out into the shop floor.

‘LOOK!’ she gasps, turning in a circle as she takes in the store’s Christmas makeover.

‘Wow!’ I breathe in what I hope is a believably surprised manner.

Carly eyes me suspiciously. ‘How come you didn’t notice it yourself when you came in this morning?’

‘Er, I came in through the delivery doors. Anyway,’ I shoot back, ‘what are you doing here so early. It’s way before your clocking-on time.’

‘You know what they say,’ Carly says flippantly, ‘the early bird catches the worm and all that. Actually, I was hoping to catch the Secret Santa but it looks like they’ve
been and gone already. I’m going to have to be more cunning.’

She narrows her eyes thoughtfully and I start to walk back towards the stockroom. I really don’t want to get into this conversation with her again.

‘Hey, don’t go!’ Carly calls, ‘I still haven’t shown you this . . .’

I turn round and see Carly holding up a copy of the
Metro
, open at page 3 and with ‘Hardy’s Christmas Miracle’ as a headline.

‘It looks like Hardy’s is still getting more positive press despite the takeover,’ she says, and I grab it excitedly from her and scan through it.

‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ she says, looking over my shoulder. ‘Maybe Hardy’s won’t be sold after all? I mean, Rupert is bound to use this in our
defence.’

I look up at her curiously. ‘I thought you wanted Rumors to take Hardy’s over? You said you’d much prefer to work for a more modern store that was cooler, more fashion forward
. . .’

Carly shrugs and brushes her hands over the vintage silk blouse she’s wearing today. Weirdly, it looks like something I’d wear. ‘A girl can be wrong. I mean, there’s
plenty of stores like that in London, but there’s not one like Hardy’s, is there? I realize now how short-sighted I was being. Besides, Rupert has been good to me. I’ve made
friends here . . . I’ve lost a few too, but I’m hoping I can get them back.’ She gives my arm a squeeze. ‘Your advice really helped me, you know,’ she says softly.
‘I always knew you were a great listener, but you’re really worth listening to as well, you know.’

I swallow back a gulp and smile gratefully at Carly as my phone buzzes in my hand. ‘Home’ flashes up on the screen and I mouth, ‘Got to take this,’ to Carly and head back
to the stockroom.

‘Hello?’

‘Evie?’ says a barely recognizable voice. ‘Where are you?’ The phone sounds muffled, like the person is holding their hand over it.

‘Delilah? Is that you?’

‘Yes,’ she sobs, and her voice sounds muffled again. ‘Where are you?’ she repeats.

‘I’m at work. Are you OK?’

‘Noooo!’ she wails desperately, her voice taking on a manic tone. ‘Will didn’t come home last night, nor did you, I tried calling Mum but she didn’t answer. I
don’t know what to do . . . my marriage, it’s over. I know it.’ She is crying inconsolably now.

‘Hey, shhhh,’ I say, feeling my stomach constrict with concern.

Delilah sounds on the edge. I know I need to go to her, but I don’t know how I can get away. Sharon is taking a dim view of sick days in this week before Christmas and I honestly think
that leaving here now could cost me my job. But what about my sister?

‘Listen, Delilah, stay calm. I’m sure there’s some explanation for Will not coming home. Where are the kids?’

‘They’re at nursery,’ she sniffs.

‘OK, I’m going to try and get away as soon as I can. I’ll meet you at home, all right? Are you going to be OK till then?’

Delilah doesn’t answer.

‘Delilah,’ I press urgently, ‘I said will you be OK till then?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replies quietly, ‘I just don’t know,’ and she rings off.

I immediately call Mum on her mobile.

‘Hello, Grace Taylor speaking, how may I help you?’ Mum’s prim voice answers as if she is an office receptionist.

‘Mum, it’s me,’ I say quickly.

‘Darl—’

‘It’s Delilah, Mum,’ I interrupt. ‘She’s in a bad way. I’m really worried about her.’ And I relay our conversation.

‘Oh, my poor girl,’ Mum moans. ‘I was so worried something like this would happen. Will told me they haven’t seen her all week at work. He’s really worried about
her. He said he was going to talk to you but maybe he hasn’t had a chance to—’

‘Mum,’ I interrupt. I can’t bear her portrayal of Will as the perfect, concerned husband any longer. ‘There’s something you should know. Will’s been having an
affair. Delilah suspects something but I overheard him on the phone. Oh, Mum, what are we going to do?’

Mum makes soothing noises and tells me not to worry. But I can’t help it. I’ve abandoned my sister in her time of need. I’ve been so preoccupied. For the past few weeks
I’ve listened to everyone in the store, I’ve thrown the rest of my energy into saving Hardy’s but I haven’t once stopped to listen to my own sister when she was crying out
to me for help.

‘Oh God, she sounded awful,’ I sob, and Mum consoles me, but I can tell she’s struggling to hold it together too.

‘I’m going back home now,’ I say determinedly through my tears.

‘But you’re at work, darling,’ Mum says. ‘I’ll go. I’ll just throw my stuff in a bag, hop on a train and I’ll be there in three hours.’

‘Do that anyway, Mum,’ I say, ‘but in the meantime I’m going straight home. Sod the store and my job. Delilah needs me.’

And I put down the phone, aware that for the first time in a long while I’m doing the right thing.