Never Can Say Goodbye (31 page)

Jared, still in his favoured purple, but now with something in scarlet and embellished with baubles wrapped turbanlike round
his head, making him look like a gay Carmen Miranda, was salsaing round the frock rails.

The two women didn’t seem to notice, and were soon rattling through the dresses with cries of appreciation.

‘Happy Christmas, dear heart,’ Jared cried, frolicking across the shop towards her. ‘And I must say you look absolutely ravishing
in that emerald green. Ravishing.’

‘Thanks,’ Frankie hissed, ‘and please go away while I’ve got customers – and what are you wearing on your head?’

‘It’s my Christmas bonnet.’ Jared struck a pose. ‘Bev said we had to wear party hats, so I made my own. It’s from a nineteen
nineties frock – I hope you don’t mind.’

‘No, not really, as long as you’re happy, but, please, keep out of sight. They don’t seem to be able to see you but—’

‘Underdeveloped sensory perception.’ Jared pouted. ‘So much of it about these days. No one uses all their
lobes
any more, poppet. So sad.’

‘Yes, whatever – Oh, look, more customers. Go away!’

‘Will do, sweet thing.’ Jared blew her a kiss and disappeared.

The two original women, both clutching several frocks, had dived into a fitting room, and three more eager last-minute frock-shoppers
took their place.

For a moment Frankie was sorry that she’d given Cherish Christmas Eve off. It had seemed pointless for Cherish to come in,
she’d thought, on a day when she was closing early anyway, and surely everyone in the world would be thinking of anything
other than buying dresses.

But it seemed not.

Making sure that Cherish realised her days off would be paid for, and handing her a small wrapped present – a pretty diary
and notebook set with a rather nice pen because Cherish seemed like the sort of person who wrote things down a lot – the previous
day, Frankie had been touched when Cherish had kissed her and, with tears in her eyes, had thanked her profusely for letting
her work in the shop.

Then she’d handed Frankie a beautifully wrapped-in-robins-and-holly box. ‘Just a small token, dear. Have a lovely Christmas.’

‘You too.’ Frankie had taken the box which smelled strongly of bath cubes. ‘And thank you very much for this. I’ll keep it
until Christmas morning. Thank you for all your help, I honestly couldn’t have managed without you. I’ll see you on the twenty-eighth.’

‘You will dear. You will.’ And Cherish had practically scampered from the shop.

‘We’ll take these.’ The women had just emerged from the fitting room. ‘They’re perfect, love. Perfect. We’d heard about your
shop from a friend and thought it couldn’t be as good as she said, but it is.’

‘Thank you.’ Frankie laughed, then she stopped.

Ernie, looking anguished, was standing at the end of the counter, pointing at the frocks.

Frankie, horrified, looked down at Achsah’s wedding dress, then at the customer. ‘Oh, I’m really sorry, you can’t have this
one.’

‘Why on earth not?’ The woman looked annoyed. ‘It fits like a dream. It’s exactly what I was looking for.’

Ernie had his hands over his face in abject misery.

‘Because, er, it’s already promised to someone.’ Frankie pulled it across the counter. ‘I’m really sorry, it shouldn’t even
be on the rails.’

‘But I want it,’ the woman insisted, pulling it back again. ‘I’ve searched high and low for something like this.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Frankie grabbed the frock and exchanged appalled looks with Ernie. ‘I should have, um, put a sold ticket on
it, or put it in the back room or something.’

‘Yes, you should,’ the woman snapped, tugging Achsah’s dress back again. ‘What sort of shop is this? A frock shop where you
can’t buy the frocks? Just when I was thinking I’d become a regular customer. No, it’s got to be this one.’

‘Sorry,’ Frankie said firmly, pulling the frock back across the counter in a sort of tug of war, ‘but it honestly isn’t for
sale. Please, go and have a look for something else. Choose another dress, and you can have it for half price.’

‘Can’t grumble at that,’ the second woman said grudgingly. ‘Go on, Rose. Go and try that bright pink one on again.’

‘I don’t want bright pink.’ Rose frowned mutinously. Frankie almost expected her to stamp her foot or roll on the floor having
a leg-kicking tantrum at any moment. ‘I want that one.’

Frankie sighed. ‘I do apologise. Look, I’m delighted that
you’ve found dresses you like, and obviously I want you to come back again – please, try the pink one again, and if you like
it, you can have it.’

‘Have it?’ Rose looked doubtful. ‘For free?’

‘For free,’ Frankie agreed. ‘It’s the least I can do to rectify my mistake.’

‘OK,’ Rose said, finally mollified, and with a last lingering look at Achsah’s cream shantung frock, headed for the rails
again.

Ernie, beaming again, watched happily as Frankie placed Achsah’s frock carefully behind the counter.

‘Don’t worry about her,’ Rose’s companion said, handing over her own dress of choice. ‘She looked much better in the pink,
anyway. And I love this shop. It’s a cornucopia of delights.’

Frankie laughed in relief as she packed the hour-glass peach satin cocktail frock. ‘Thank you. I might have that as my slogan
in future.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Bev muttered in Frankie’s ear. ‘It sounds like a box of chocs.’

Frankie frowned. Bev was again perched on the counter, still in the snood, but with strands of tinsel wrapped round it now,
and had red and gold baubles dangling from her ears making her look very Bet Lynch.

Frankie made frantic flapping ‘go away’ motions with her hands. Bev just laughed and swung her legs. Fortunately, the customer,
unable to see her, took no notice at all.

‘Yes –’ Rose, also clearly not seeing either Ernie or Bev, emerged from the fitting room carrying a magenta frock, and nodded
at Frankie ‘– it’ll do nicely. Mind, I still preferred the cream, but then again, this one for free is a much better bargain.
OK, love, your mistake has turned into a nice little early
Christmas present for me. I’m happy, and yes, I will be back again.’

Frankie and Ernie exchanged delighted – and very thankful – glances.

By two o’clock, Frankie turned the shop sign to
CLOSED
. She’d returned Achsah’s wedding dress to the rails because Ernie preferred it to be there, had sold another half a dozen
dresses, the sky had darkened dramatically outside as the wind began to roar, and the ghosts had started their Christmas celebrations.

‘What the hell are they doing?’ Dexter tried hard to shut the door behind him. ‘God, that wind has got up suddenly. No, seriously,
what are they doing?’

‘Having a Christmas party.’ Frankie laughed. ‘Although I did ask them not to start until I left, but it seemed to fall on
deaf ears.’

Dexter watched Bev and Jared cavorting round the floor, humming along with Jonah Lewie and his cavalry on the sound system,
obviously not knowing the words, their headgear wobbling wildly, and Gertie and Ruby playing some sort of noisy clapping game
with each other.

Ernie was leaning against the 1950s rails by Achsah’s returned frock, looking on, sad-faced.

‘Ernie can’t do as much as they can,’ Frankie explained. ‘And he’s feeling even more left out.’

‘Poor bloke.’ Dexter sighed. ‘We really will have to find some way of sorting him out as soon as Christmas is out of the way.
So, are you all ready for the grand escape to your family?’

‘Yep.’ Frankie nodded as she tidied away the last of the carrier bags. ‘Lilly left for Protaras yesterday, I’ve loaded up
my car and locked up the house and closed the shop, because I don’t
think I’ll have any more customers now. Especially as it looks as though we’re going to have some sort of storm. What about
you? Been busy today?’

‘Surprisingly, yes.’ Dexter leaned against the counter. ‘I bought a batch of forced flowers – red tulips mainly – which I
don’t like because they’re not natural –’

Frankie giggled. ‘Now you sound like a
real
horticulturalist.’

‘Actually –’ he looked at her ‘– I’m beginning to feel like one. Anyway, these flowers had the edges of their petals dipped
in some sort of glue and then sprinkled with glitter. I bought five dozen on the off chance, and they’ve all sold out. And
I’ve sold two last-minute Christmas trees as well. So, I’m more or less done, too. I’m closing up now.’

The Christmas track had changed to George Michael being nostalgic about last Christmas. Bev, Jared, Ruby and Gertie were swaying
blissfully with their eyes closed.

‘Oh God, last Christmas –’ Dexter pulled a face ‘– don’t remind me.’

‘Bad one?’

‘The worst.’ He shrugged. ‘Which means this one can only be an improvement. Anyway, I just wanted to wish you, well, whatever
you want from the festivities.’

‘Thanks, you too. Oh, have you had the Ray-and-Rita card from Mykonos?’

Dexter grinned. ‘I have. All bright blue Mediterranean sea and sky, and acres of white sand, not to mention the taverna all
flower-decked and laid-back – pretty cruel of them, I reckon.’

‘Me too. And did you get the industrial-sized box of baklava to go with it?’

‘Oh, yes. I ate them all in one sitting and wished I hadn’t.’

Frankie giggled. ‘I managed to make them last for two, but
I still felt pretty sick afterwards. I’m glad Ray and Rita are happy, though. It must be lovely to be living your dream.’

‘Not many people manage that, do they?’

‘Sadly, no. Er, so, when are you opening up again?’

‘The day after Boxing Day. You?’

Doing mental cartwheels of absolute joy, Frankie tried to rein in her smile. ‘Oh, er, the same, actually. I know Rita used
to be really busy in the run up to the New Year.’

‘I’m not sure if I’ll have any customers, to be honest. But anything will be better than sitting in the lonely bedsit between
Christmas and New Year thinking about everyone else having a roaring time. Oh, hell, please change that record.’

Frankie, feeling very guilty about being delighted that Dexter would be home alone after all, was relieved when George’s sad
memories were automatically replaced by Paul McCartney having a wonderful Christmastime.

Bev and Jared started prancing again. Ruby and Gertie clapped their hands and shrieked a lot.

‘Madness.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘And poor Ernie is still just on the periphery of everything.’

‘So our New Year resolution is to get Ernie and Achsah reunited.’ Dexter grinned. ‘Which will make a change from giving up
unhealthy food and beer and taking up jogging. Anyway, I’ll let you get on, and I’ll see you in a few days. Oh, and I wanted
to give you this.’

Frankie stared down at the small silver-wrapped box.

‘Oh no … I mean, thank you … but I haven’t bought you a present. I mean … well, I didn’t think … ’

‘It’s not much, honestly. I just saw them and thought of you. If you hate them you can give them to your kid sister or your
mum.’

‘I won’t hate it, er, them,’ Frankie said, knowing that even if the silver box contained something totally hideous she’d absolutely
adore it or them for the rest of her life. ‘Thank you so much. It’s really kind of you.’

‘And, because I’m something of a traditionalist, there’s this as well.’ Dexter smiled at her as he produced a tiny sprig of
mistletoe from his pocket then held it above her head. ‘Happy Christmas, Frankie.’

As his lips brushed hers in the gentlest of kisses, the ghosts all clapped their hands in delight, and outside the first snowflakes
started to tumble from the pewter sky.

It was still dark when Cherish woke on Christmas morning, but there was something about the air of stillness and the strange
pale shadows across her bedroom ceiling that made her blink in excitement.

The snow, which had started falling yesterday afternoon and carried on intermittently all evening, must have settled.

It was going to be a white Christmas.

And, Cherish thought delightedly, sitting up in bed and pulling her covers more closely round her, she had a Christmas stocking
at the foot of the bed to open. Obviously, because she’d put it there herself the previous night, this wasn’t any huge surprise,
but the contents would be. Oh, what a lovely idea this had been.

She and Brian had exchanged their stockings solemnly yesterday afternoon over a pot of tea and hot mince pies in Patsy’s Pantry
just as the snow had started to fall. And they’d promised faithfully not to peek at their contents until Christmas morning.

Brian, Cherish thought, had seemed even more excited than she was – if that were possible.

She peered at her alarm clock. Seven already. Not too early for a cup of tea. Then she’d bring it back to bed, and open her
stocking. After pulling on her camel dressing gown and sliding her feet into her sensible slippers, she couldn’t resist squeezing
the stocking just to hear the blissful rattle and rustle of the paper inside.

She giggled to herself, suddenly filled with childlike joy, then crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains.

‘Oh, how wonderful.’

The snow had stopped falling overnight and was probably two inches deep, covering everywhere in a glittering pristine white
mantle. It was bone-chillingly cold, with a hard frost, so the snow had frozen like icing sugar. Perfect, Cherish thought.
Just enough snow to make it a proper white Christmas, but not enough to stop her going to Brian’s bungalow later, or returning
to work after Boxing Day.

She couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Cherish practically skipped into the kitchen, quickly made her tea and hurried back to bed.

The stocking, red felt with a jolly Santa appliquéd on the front, was quite small, but fat with tiny presents.

Cherish placed her teacup on her bedside table, switched on the lamp, pulled the stocking towards her and opened the first
present with much crackling of reindeer wrapping.

‘Oh!’ Cherish felt the tears prickle her eyes. ‘Oh, Brian, how clever you are.’