Cupcakes at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown

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      ‘What do you mean?’ Sam’s eyes widen.

      ‘What do you think it did to Mum? She was devastated. It was the stress of it all that made the multiple sclerosis develop so rapidly and cause complications. That’s why she died prematurely and I ended up in care …’ I say, in a wobbly voice, an image of Mum in the hospital bed flashing inside my head. Sam steps forward and gives me another hug.

      ‘Georgie I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that you still felt that way.’ She gives me a weak smile.

      ‘It’s OK. That’s just the way it is,’ I say, putting on a brave face to cover the hollow feeling inside.

      ‘But it doesn’t have to be. You could forgive him and set yourself free from hating him. It wasn’t your dad’s fault she died.’

      ‘Maybe.’ Silence follows. ‘Anyway, let’s go and enjoy ourselves,’ I say quickly, with a half-smile, desperate to shift the conversational focus.

      ‘OK, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.’ Sam gives my arm a little squeeze and turns to leave. I take a big deep breath, bracing myself to face Tom again.

      Nathan and Tom are sitting at the bar. They’ve already polished off half the bottle of wine. Nathan leaps down from his stool.

      ‘Here you are, lovely lady. Saving it especially for you,’ he says to Sam, and she bounces up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Tom pulls out another stool for me. My tummy flips. I sit down and cross my legs and promptly let out a little yelp. The safety pin must have popped open.

      ‘Hey, are you OK?’ Tom leaps off his stool and places a hand on my arm. His face is full of concern.

      ‘Yes, yes I’m fine,’ I manage to squeak, wincing with agony. I quickly uncross my legs and let out a discreet sigh of relief.

      ‘That was quite some floor show,’ he says, sitting back down and leaning towards me. I grin in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

      ‘Well, I aim to please,’ I say, remembering Sam’s advice to laugh it off. His presence, so close to me, is totally intoxicating, and I’m aware that I feel tingly all over.

      ‘So how long have you been working at Carrington’s?’ he asks, thoughtfully changing the subject. I take a sip of the cold wine and let the taste linger in my mouth. Waiting for me to answer, he smiles attentively – his impeccable manners are very appealing, I must say.

      ‘Since school.’ I swallow, relieved that we’re talking about something else now. ‘I started doing Saturdays and now I work full time in Women’s Accessories and sometimes deputise for James. He’s the floor supervisor and is also in charge of Men’s Accessories and Sportswear.’

      ‘For now.’ Tom says the words quietly, but I know I’m not mistaken. He takes a large swig of his drink and looks away.

      ‘What do you mean?’ I say, a little too quickly.

      ‘Nothing. Look, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ He looks a bit panicky as his eyes drop downwards.

      ‘No, come on. You can’t say something like that and then not expand,’ I say, wanting to know what he knows. I shove my bag down on the bar, cringing at the slapping noise it makes. I don’t want him thinking I’m hysterical.

      ‘It’s nothing, honestly,’ he replies, not giving anything away. His mobile flashes on the bar, signifying the arrival of a text. ‘Sorry,’ he says, tapping out a reply. Irritated by the break in conversation I fiddle with the sequins on my bag, wanting to get back to his comment. If it meant what I think it does, then I have to warn James – at least then he can find another job before he’s pushed out. He places the phone back on the bar.

      ‘Anyway, no wriggling out of it,’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted. ‘Come on. Tell me what you meant by that comment. What do you know?’ Tom scans my face, and for a second his overwhelming beauty distracts me, but I manage to hold the stare, trying not to let his charm get the better of me.

      ‘You’re not going to let it go, are you?’ he says, a flash of concern on his face.

      ‘No. Not when it comes to my friends.’

      ‘OK. I’m sorry, it was insensitive of me, but seeing as it’s you,’ he starts, momentarily making me feel like I’m the only woman in the world, but then I spot a glimmer of something in his eyes before he looks away … like embarrassment, or shame almost, that he’s resorted to schmooze. He clears his throat before continuing. ‘What I meant was that we don’t know what’s going to happen now that Maxine’s arrived. Obviously there’re going to be changes and people might move around. That’s all I meant.’

      ‘So how come you just started working at Carrington’s then? I mean, it seems odd to have someone joining on the same day a consultant is brought in to help us fend off a terminal decline?’ I say, almost thinking aloud – surely he must have done some homework before his interview. Anyone could find out that Carrington’s is struggling.

      ‘Fair point.’ He nods. ‘I was headhunted,’ he says, slowly.

      ‘What for exactly?’ I’m conscious that I’m now practically interrogating him, but I have to find out more.

      ‘Weell,’ he starts slowly, as though he’s buying time to make it up as he goes along. ‘Look, please don’t take this the wrong way,’ he eventually adds, tracing his finger around the rim of a glass. ‘I was recruited a month ago by Walter to sell jewellery.’ His mobile flashes again and he’s saved from saying any more.

      ‘Sorry,’ he mouths, taking the call and heading towards the Gents, leaving me puzzled. My mind races through the options. Why would Walter have brought Tom in? And why did Tom imply that James’s job isn’t safe? What does he know?

      I decide to call it a night and grab my bag from the bar. I don’t fancy sitting here while Tom shows more interest in his phone than talking to me. After making my excuses to Sam, I go in search of a taxi to take me home. I need some time alone to think this all through.

      9

      I’m at the counter of Sam’s café when I feel an arm around my shoulders.

      ‘Mine’s a black coffee and one of those Valentine cakes.’ It’s Eddie, and he’s pointing to a luscious lemon cupcake with an enormous sparkly silver meringue peak on top, and he looks exactly how I feel.

      ‘God, I feel terrible,’ he moans as I add his order to mine (tea and my fave, the delicious red velvet) before handing over my staff discount card. ‘And so would you if you’d been beavering away for that old hag, Maxine,’ Eddie snorts. ‘I reckon she must be at least forty.’ He pulls a face and I laugh.

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