Miracle on Regent Street (59 page)

Carly doesn’t answer; she just stares defiantly at me, then Lily, and then the rest of Hardy’s workforce as we wait anxiously for her response, knowing that her decision could make
or break us all.

A
n hour later and I am outside the store, on Lily’s orders. She can be very bossy when she wants to be. I’m wrapped up snugly to fight
the chill but I barely need my layers as I’m feeling so warmed by the sight of the crowds of people who are gathered outside. There are literally hundreds of people here waiting for
Hardy’s to open this morning. I can hardly believe it. The store has been decked with sparkling lights and greenery all around the outside of the door and windows. This must have been
Jan’s doing – I hadn’t even thought of decorating the outside. There is a wonderful atmosphere as we all wait expectantly for the windows to be revealed and the store’s
front doors to open.

A group of carol singers have gathered here by the front door and are singing a rousing version of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’
.
Even the roasted chestnut guy from Oxford Street
has spotted a selling opportunity and set up his barrow on the pavement outside, and the sweet, nutty aroma is currently weaving its festive scent around us.

I would feel utterly overjoyed with the events of the last half an hour and all this incredible Christmas spirit were it not for the copy of the newspaper that I am clutching in my hand.
I’ve only just had time to read it since Sam handed it to me this morning. Alongside the wonderful story about all of Hardy’s secret makeovers to stop its imminent takeover by a big
American retail conglomerate, there is a picture and a small profile of Joel, who is accredited as being the CFO of Rumors, the company who will be taking over Hardy’s site. It is all the
confirmation I need that Joel was lying to me all along. I have no desire to see him or listen to his excuses any more. It’s over. I glance at his picture again and feel a fresh wave of
disappointment.

‘That’s a terrible shot of me,’ a voice murmurs in my ear.

I turn round and am shocked to see Joel himself, in the flesh, looking as devastatingly handsome as always. He smiles at me and I immediately turn my back on him and face Hardy’s.

‘Hey, won’t you just talk to me – or at least let me explain . . . ?’ Joel pleads. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I shrug it off.

‘What’s to explain?’ I say sharply. ‘You lied to me. Now, if you don’t mind, something’s happening.’

As the hands on Hardy’s clock reach ten o’clock the crowd’s noise dissipates to a quiet, excited murmur and I am surprised to see Rupert appearing out of the front door,
locking it carefully behind him again. He puts his hands up and I see that they are shaking a little. I crane my neck and rise up on tiptoe so I can see better, but all I can think about is
Joel’s breath on my neck behind me.

‘Welcome to Hardy’s grand reopening . . .’ Rupert announces nervously.

‘I thought you knew I was working for Rumors,’ Joel mutters in my ear, and I can’t help but turn round to contradict him.

‘How? You never said. In fact, you implied you were
friends
with Rupert. I thought you were on our side! If I’d known you were trying to close Hardy’s all this time
I’d—’

‘You’d what?’ Joel says, gazing intently at me.

‘I’d never have gone out with you.’

‘But,’ he says, ‘you said you thought Rumors was the future of retail. I thought you welcomed the takeover.’

I feel a flash of guilt but ignore it. He’s the one at fault here. Not me. ‘It’s a future that I certainly don’t want to be a part of,’ I reply primly and turn back
round. ‘Now please, Joel, I’m trying to listen to Rupert.’

Rupert has relaxed into his role as store Master of Ceremonies and he now has the crowd in the palm of his hand.

‘My family has been overwhelmed by the support you’ve shown the store and we want to thank all the customers for your loyalty over the years,’ he says, his voice ringing out
proudly over the crowd’s noise. ‘There have been big changes afoot at Hardy’s, many that I didn’t know about, thanks to the Secret Elves who have been working hard to save
the store . . .’ The crowd cheers and Rupert beams brightly.

‘I don’t understand.’ Joel is still talking to me, even though I’m trying to ignore him and focus on Rupert. ‘You always said that Rumors was your kind of store,
that Hardy’s was outdated and—’

‘Well,’ I interrupt sharply before he repeats any more of my ridiculous ‘Carly’ comments, ‘maybe I haven’t been entirely honest with you either.’

Joel looks confused. ‘What do you mean, Carly? I don’t understand.’

‘I’m not Carly, that’s the point, OK?’ I sigh wearily, tired of having to explain myself again.

Joel looks at me like I’ve just sprouted another head.

‘Joel, the truth is my name isn’t Carly. Never was. And I’m not Hardy’s personal shopper-turned-assistant manager, I’m just the stockroom girl.’ He looks
astonished and I hold out my hand. ‘I’m Evie, pleased to meet you.’ I bob a curtsy and feel an inappropriate tornado of laughter whirl up inside me and out. ‘Wooh, I feel
better now I’ve told you that!’ I laugh nervously.

Someone in front of me turns round and shushes me. I look down, embarrassed, and then back at Joel, who is standing with his arms folded, thick dark eyebrows raised and knotted, waiting for me
to continue. I sigh and take a deep breath.

‘The first time we met, you confused me for someone else, someone pretty and appealing and fun and talented, and so I just went along with it. Carly is a good friend of mine and I’ve
always wanted to be like her. She dates hot men, like you, and I guess I thought, why not? Why not pretend to be her? It won’t
hurt
anyone. Besides, I never thought you’d
actually call . . .’

Joel clenches his jaw and I see it flex under his stubble. I shake my head and force myself to concentrate on what I’m trying to tell him. ‘I was just so sick of having this shitty
job that no one cared about, wearing horrible clothes, being so . . . forgettable. No one could
ever
accuse Carly of being that, so I thought I’d channel her. Dress a bit like her,
talk like her, share her opinions,
be
her, just for a while. But then I started to like you, and it was so much harder than I thought, and you seemed so genuine and real, and I wanted what
we had to be real too . . . but it never was. It never was,’ I repeat sadly, shaking my head. When Joel doesn’t reply I continue resolutely, ‘But none of that matters now because
I know that you weren’t being real either. You pretended to be this sweet, caring guy who loved family-run stores when in actual fact all you wanted to do was destroy a store that you
professed to be so much like your own. You care about money and power and that’s all. No wonder your own store is failing. You’ve got no heart. Which means neither has Parker’s.
Not like this place,’ I finish proudly, just in time to hear Rupert close his speech.

‘ . . . I have been surprised many times over the past few weeks at what my Secret Elves have achieved. And I’ve been told that today they have one more surprise up their sleeves for
us. I don’t know what it is and, to be honest, I’m not sure if it’s going to be enough to save my great-grandfather’s fine, fine store.’ Rupert stops, choked all of a
sudden, and I will him to continue. ‘But what I do know is that these staff, these wonderful people who I am lucky enough to have working for me, have proved that business isn’t all
about money, and shops aren’t all about material goods. I’ve realized that Hardy’s is a community in itself, a home from home, a place to meet and talk and browse. It’s been
my family’s home for a hundred years and I hope that Londoners will agree that it’s been your home too. My great-grandfather wanted this to be a place for you to come and feel warmly
welcomed every single day, whether you purchase anything or not. We lost our way for a few years,’ there is a ripple of agreement from the gathered crowd, ‘but I believe the store has
rediscovered its core, traditional values. And I don’t think there’s another department store in this city that can compete with us.’ He raises his voice as he reaches the climax
of his speech. ‘If you believe in family and hope and friendship and good old-fashioned values, then Hardy’s is the store for you.’

Cheers erupt from the crowd and Rupert looks surprised, then utterly overcome. His cheeks go pink, he swipes his hand across his watery eyes and I see Sharon, who has been standing proudly by
his side the entire time, grasp his hand and squeeze it. Rupert looks at her gratefully and she steps forward, patting her hair and smiling at everyone.

‘So without further ado we’d like to unveil Hardy’s last surprise.’ She steps over to the window and knocks sharply on it. One by one, window by window, the lustrous red
curtains are pulled open slowly like stage curtains. The carol singers start humming a beautifully heartfelt version of ‘White Christmas’and suddenly I forget all about Joel and our
conversation, and I smile and squeal and laugh and start applauding loudly along with the rest of the crowd at the wonderful sight that fills my eyes.

In the windows Lily and Felix have staged wonderful Windmill-esque-inspired tableaux vivants, with all of Hardy’s staff standing motionless in the window – except, thankfully,
they’re fully clothed in Hardy’s vintage staff uniforms. Jane must have shown Lily where I pulled hers from in the stockroom, and found the men’s ones, too: wonderful wartime
green shirts with matching trousers.

In each window they’ve staged different Christmas scenes to match a classic decade: from the 1930s, ’40s, ’50s and ’60s. In the first Bernie and Susan, the Haberdashery
sisters, are perched on armchairs handing each other Christmas presents with festive-coloured green and red balls of yarn at their feet and beautiful Christmas vintage fabric bunting draped round
the 1930s-styled living room and on the Christmas tree. I glance over to the next window along at Carly, who is standing in there next to Iris. She looks at me and winks. Both women are wearing
original wartime Land Girl uniforms. They are frozen mid-march, except Iris’s leg keeps wobbling so she has to put it on the floor. They both have one hand raised to their foreheads in a
salute and the cardboard cutout of the WI women who made the lavender soaps has been placed cleverly behind them so it looks like they’re leading a march. British flags are hung all around
them and the window has been filled with fake snow. On the other side of the store, Jane, Becky and the Beauty girls are dressed in decadent 1950s fashion, wearing jewel-coloured, figure-hugging
gowns, clutching vintage cocktail glasses at a Christmas dance. And in the central, main window there is a brick chimney breast complete with a fake, roaring fire. There is glass of whisky and a
plate of biscuits placed carefully on the mantelpiece, with vintage Christmas cards hung on string all around. Felix, Lily, Sam, Jan Baptysta, Velna and Justyna are all standing either side of a
chimney breast and, hilariously, they are all wearing green elf costumes, complete with curly shoes, tights and little hats. Lily and Felix are also holding up a sign that says: ‘We’re
Hardy’s Christmas Elves’.

I can’t help laughing at the sight of my wonderful friends and then, along with the hundreds of people who are gathered out here on this frosty, December morning six days before Christmas,
we all burst into rapturous applause.

‘It’s pretty impressive, huh?’ Joel says softly.

I’d forgotten all about him. Almost. I nod but don’t reply.

‘You know, uh . . . Evie, is it? I never asked out the wrong girl.’

‘Yes you did,’ I say without turning round. ‘I was wearing the same top as Carly that day, you’d seen her earlier in the store and she told me she was sure you were going
to ask her out. Half an hour later I bumped into you outside the personal shopping department and . . . well, it was an easy mistake to make.’

‘That’s not how I remember it,’ Joel replies. I turn round and look at him questioningly. ‘The week before I met you I had come into the store to meet Rupert. I saw you
then, dashing around the place with armfuls of stock.’ He looks into the distance. ‘You reminded me of my ex-girlfriend actually. It was quite uncanny.’ I feel my stomach tighten
slightly but Joel continues, ‘I wondered who you were and wanted to talk to you but even though I came in every day I didn’t see you again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I mean, there was just something about you that I couldn’t forget . . .’