Miracle on Regent Street (60 page)

I shake my head in disbelief and try to turn away but Joel grasps hold of my arms.

‘It’s true, you have to believe me. I even asked some members of staff about you. I described you exactly, the length and colour of your hair, your cute outfit of trousers and white
shirt, right down to your skin tone.’

‘Like ET?’ I reply, thinking about my brothers’ nickname for me, and Joel looks at me strangely. ‘In the film,’ I mutter. ‘When he’s all pale and
ill.’

‘No,’ he shakes his head emphatically. ‘Like a perfect blanket of snow.’ I swipe my hand across my eyes; the cold is obviously making them water or something. ‘I
was so happy when I bumped into you that day in Menswear, even though you did look different to how I remembered, more polished and stylish somehow . . .’

I think back to the structured, sparkly Florence Gainsbourg top and smile ruefully to myself. I look at Joel and then back at the store windows. Part of me feels overwhelmed by what Joel has
just told me. It was me he wanted all along, not Carly, but the truth is nothing has changed. Not really.

‘Thank you, Joel,’ I say politely. ‘I appreciate you telling me all this but the truth is our relationship couldn’t ever have gone anywhere. You want Hardy’s to
close and I care about this place too much to be with someone who wants that.’ I smile and go to turn away. ‘It’s been fun getting to know—’

‘NO!’ Joel shakes his head in frustration and grabs my arm to turn me round. ‘That’s just it! I don’t want Hardy’s to close! I never have done. I just
didn’t feel like I could ever tell you what I was trying to do for the place because you kept saying how much you loved Rumors!’

I look at him in disbelief and Joel exhales slowly so his breath weaves towards me like cigarette smoke. He loosens his grip on my arm and brushes his other hand over his mouth and chin, and his
stubble crackles like scrunched-up wrapping paper as he tries to explain.

‘The truth is I
was
briefed to look into buying out Hardy’s site to be Rumors’ flagship London store. That’s why I was sent over here initially.’ I fold my
arms and stare at him, and he quickly adds: ‘But then Rupert showed me round the store, and the more I visited the place, the more I fell in love with it. It reminded me so much of
Parker’s but I also realized that Hardy’s couldn’t carry on as it was. Just like my store, it was stuck in a time warp, but Rupert and I couldn’t work out what we could do
and we were resigned to the fact that I’d just have to do my job and buy the site for Rumors.’ He pauses. ‘Then the makeovers started happening.’ He looks at me
meaningfully. ‘They were so inspired it gave me an idea of how I could save the store without upsetting the company I work for. I didn’t tell Rupert as he was under so much pressure
from his father to sell up, as the family has got into huge amounts of debt. They were going to lose their ancestral home in Gloucestershire and Sebastian Hardy saw selling the store as the only
way to stop that. Poor Rupert was torn: lose his beloved home farm or lose his great-grandfather’s store. So I set about trying to persuade my company that Hardy’s could be big again. I
told my company that in the run-up to Christmas the store could see a massive turnaround. But we needed to give it a chance. They agreed to wait and I told Rupert he had until the 26th of December
to force the profits up, and that if he failed the store would close. I gave him completely unrealistic sales targets, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to reach them, but hoping I knew him
well enough to know that he’d have a damn good go. I didn’t tell him that if the profits
did
see even a small increase, and if he could prove that over time he could better them,
I’d negotiated with my company that, instead of just buying the site for their flagship store, they would invest in Hardy’s to give it the finance that it needed to reinvent itself. It
would be owned by my company – thereby saving Rupert’s ancestral home – but the store would keep its name, the staff would keep their jobs and Rupert would keep his place on the
board as CEO to help maintain Hardy’s core values and keep the family name going.’

I know my mouth has dropped open unattractively but I can’t close it.

Joel smiles at me and takes a step closer. ‘My bosses needed some convincing, but they have been so pleased with all the press attention that has come with its makeover and they’ve
grown to love that Hardy’s is exactly like the traditional British stores we Americans always hope to find over here: small, traditional, homely and welcoming, with core values that can still
hold true today. That is what makes Hardy’s different and I know it’s what will make it successful again. Particularly now it’s found its unique identity.’ He grabs my hands
and pulls me close to him and suddenly the crowd melts away. ‘What I’m saying is, Carly – I mean, Evie – ‘Hardy’s
isn’t
going to close. Not
now.’

I gasp and throw my arms around Joel, sobbing with relief and joy at what he has just told me. ‘Oh my God, Joel, thank you, thank you so much,’ I sniff, and pull back to look at him
apologetically. ‘You saved Hardy’s.’

He shrugs modestly. ‘No, the Secret Elves did that. I just wish I could have told you all this earlier.’ He pauses and takes my hand, stroking it softly with his thumb. ‘We
messed up a bit, didn’t we?’ he says, and I nod sadly. ‘Do you think we can try again?’ he says, studying my face before cupping it and tilting it towards his with his other
hand. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an unmistakable duck-egg-blue box, offering it to me. I fleetingly think of my first window display for Menswear, the man in the trilby
proffering the Tiffany’s box, and wonder if this is what they mean by life imitating art.

‘I came here today because I wanted to give you this,’ Joel murmurs. ‘I bought it the day I called you from Selfridges and have been carrying it around ever since. I was
already crazy about you then.’

I look at Joel in utter disbelief as I take the Tiffany’s box and, with shaking fingers, I slowly open it. Inside is a beautiful, glittering platinum, white enamel and diamond ice skater
charm. I blink and look into Joel’s smoulderingly intense eyes, and for a moment I think that maybe we can make this work. I mean, this, him, well, it’s all perfect. It’s what any
girl would want. The romantic declarations, the expensive gifts . . .

‘I hoped it would remind you of our first date and convince you to come home with me to Pennsylvania. Carl— I mean, Evie,’ he laughs in embarrassment. ‘Please say we can
try again.’

I look down at the charm and a misty frost descends over my eyes. I think about the past few weeks, the wonderful times I’ve had with Joel, the breathtaking dates, the dinners, afternoon
teas and nights in fancy hotels. Maybe a girl like me
can
end up with a guy like Joel. But then I shake my head and, as if in a snow globe, a crazy chaos of confused emotions whirl into a
frenzy again, and a different picture – and person – pops into my head.

‘Come with me, Evie,’ he pleads, stroking his thumb across my jaw. I close my eyes and open them again.

‘I . . . I,’ I mumble as the snow clouds part in my head and I realize that for the first time in my life, I actually know exactly what I want. Sam. I may not be able to have him,
but I know now that Joel isn’t the guy for me. This, all of this, it’s too much. Tiffany’s. Claridge’s. America. I’m just Evie, the stockroom girl. And you know what?
I’m proud of that.

I hand him back the box and smile through my tears. ‘I’m sorry, Joel, it’s beautiful but I can’t accept this. I think, despite what you say, you want me to be someone
I’m not. If not Carly, then maybe your ex.’ I look up through my eyelashes and Joel shakes his head. But his eyes reveal more. I know that he isn’t seeing me standing here now,
he’s seeing the lost love, the girl he left behind in Pennsylvania. I’m just an illusion to him, as invisible to him as to almost everyone else. Suddenly a thought occurs to me.

‘What was your ex-girlfriend’s name?’ I ask him gently. ‘Joel?’

He looks away and puts his hands in his pockets. A gentle breeze blows through his hair and lifts it slightly. ‘Carleen – Carly,’ he says, and the name is almost lost in the
gust of air.

I nod and squeeze his arm. It all makes sense now.

Suddenly the crowd starts chanting my name. ‘
EV-IE EV-IE EV-IE
. . .’

Joel looks at me and smiles sorrowfully. ‘It wasn’t just about her, you know, you have to believe me. You really are wonderful. They all know it too.’ And he gently turns me
round to face the store. In the main window, Lily, Felix and the gang are now holding up a big, hand-written sign that says, ‘Where’s our Christmas Evie?’ and I cover my mouth
with my gloved hand to stifle a half-cry half-laugh. Joel gives me a gentle little push. ‘I think they want you . . . Evie,’ he says.

I turn to smile at him. ‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out,’ I say.

‘It’s OK,’ Joel sighs. ‘I think I can see where your heart really lies. And mine, too.’

I throw my arms round him and squeeze with all my might. ‘Good luck, Joel,’ I whisper, then turn and push my way through the jostling crowd and slip inside the store.

As I walk into the beauty department all of Hardy’s workforce turn from their frozen positions inside the store’s windows and gesture towards me with their hands. I laugh and clamber
up into the window, and they all start cheering and applauding. I take my place in the middle of the elves, and Lily and Felix come and kiss me on each cheek and lift my hands up in the air.

Outside flashbulbs pop and the crowd continues to chant my name. I wave shyly, feeling utterly overcome by it all. Only Sam, who is standing next to me remains silent. He stares straight ahead,
his kind, handsome face utterly impassive. I turn and look out the window too, and I see Joel standing in the centre of the crowd, looking like some suave movie star. He lifts his hand and waves at
me and then I look at Sam again whose lips remain in a thin, tight line.

‘Is that him?’ he says quietly. ‘Is that the guy?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, and then there is a beat before I speak again. ‘The guy who made me realize where I want to be and who I want to be with.’ I look back out at the crowd,
but Joel has disappeared. ‘You,’ I whisper softly.

Sam turns away and I worry that I’ve gone too far, said too much. I see Felix smile at Sam encouragingly as he hands him a small, plain brown box that has been decorated with a garland of
threaded cranberries. I look up at Sam quizzically as he passes it silently to me and I open it.

‘It’s handmade,’ Sam says shyly as I lift out the snow globe. ‘By Jan. He carved the figures himself. And the building. I asked him to make it when we did the window
display.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I gasp. ‘I had no idea he was so talented.’ I look up at him. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘I think all these people would say the same of you,’ Sam says with a smile, beckoning to the staff, and to Rupert and Sharon, who are standing in front of the window and applauding
me. I swallow back another tear and take a closer look at the snow globe. Inside is a perfect replica of Hardy’s façade. And in front of it are two figures, kissing. One has long brown
hair, indistinguishable to most but if you were to just look closely . . .

‘I don’t have a girlfriend, you know,’ Sam murmurs, and he turns me to face him. ‘There is someone . . . but . . . I just didn’t explain myself very well . .
.’ He looks at me with his soft brown eyes. He pauses and I shake the snow globe in front of us both so that tiny flecks of white soar up and then fall softly around the kissing couple.
‘It’s only ever been you, Evie,’ Sam says, and then he is tilting me in his arms and I’m laughing and his lips are on mine and he is kissing me in front of the crowd
outside, in front of my friends in here and in front of the most important person of all: Hardy’s.

The End. Or Almost . . .

Sunday 1 January

357 Shopping Days Until Christmas

‘T
EEVEEEE, TEEEEVEEEE!’ Lola and Raffy are tugging at my coat sleeves, desperate to get to the top of the hill so they can try out
their brand-new sledge.