‘But that was then, hun,’ Sam says, gently.
‘And now is now – which explains why he’s ignoring you,’ Eddie butts in, wagging a pointed finger in the air.
‘Eddie!’ Sam snaps.
‘Sorry, was just saying … ’ He shrugs his shoulders.
‘Well don’t.’ She glares at him.
‘Oh, I’m only joking. Georgie knows I adore her and, well, if I’m totes honest, then I’m cross – how dare Tom do this to her and then swan off?’ Eddie grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘Push it out of your mind, babycakes. You know how easily you jump to conclusions – she’s probably a production assistant and ugly as hell, with a Cyclops eye and a snaggle tooth. Maybe Tom was on the loo or something.’ He grimaces. ‘Tell you what, let’s watch the show and then you can see for yourself. They might show him scouring the Champs-Elysées looking for gorgeous handbags for you to sell. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ Eddie pats the back of my hand as if he’s placating a toddler.
‘Yes, maybe,’ I manage, calming down a bit. He’s right, the sexy-sounding woman could be anyone, and I mustn’t judge all men by my ex’s, Brett’s, standards. I take my phone back from Sam and surreptitiously swipe through to the world clock app. It’s ten p.m. here, which means it’s eleven p.m. in Paris – surely Tom wouldn’t be filming this late in the evening? The thought lingers as Eddie presses play on the remote control, and Kelly comes back onto the screen.
The first half of the show is mainly Kelly talking about her years of experience serving customers in the fashion and retail business, with clips of old film footage from the Sixties of her strolling down Carnaby Street in London, dressed in a mini dress and long white vinyl boots on her way to work in a trendy boutique with freaky-looking mannequins in the bay window. And now she’s talking about Carrington’s staff, introducing each of us as if we’re celebrities.
‘Remember to look out for the gorgeous Georgie Hart who runs Women’s Accessories; she’ll also be sharing her fashion and beauty tips next week in Closer magazine.’ Wow, how nice of her, and I find myself smiling, despite still feeling disgruntled over the French woman answering Tom’s mobile, and the very real possibility that Kelly may change Carrington’s beyond recognition – and not necessarily in a good way. Eddie and Sam give me a round of applause. ‘And Eddie, the boss’s BA. What can I say? He’s a natural star. Born for this.’ Eddie glows as he beams at Sam and me.
‘See! I told you she adores me,’ Eddie says. ‘You too Georgie.’ And maybe he has a point. I glance at the bulging goody bag nestling under my little silver Christmas tree (I couldn’t wait to put it up) which arrived from a PR company. It’s crammed full of lotions and potions for me to try out and talk about in the column. Hannah said not to worry if I can’t be bothered to actually test the products and then write about them, as she’ll get one of KCTV’s people to do it for me. But I can not wait to dive in. I’ve already had a peep and saw a Jo Malone candle in a new gingerbread Christmassy scent, a beautifully fragrant Soap & Glory strawberry body scrub, there’s even a full-size pot of that new CC cream that everyone is raving about – it costs a fortune and they gave it to me for free! I really could get used to this celebrity lifestyle, especially as ASOS are couriering a selection of accessories for me to try out and write about too.
Next up on screen is Zara, donning her floppy hat, which is pretty pointless, given that all of the Carrington’s staff know who she is now. She does a spiel about having identified several areas of Carrington’s customer service that ‘need work’ – flaming cheek. And now I’m on the screen, with the poker-face woman going on about the scratch on the crocodile skin bag, and I don’t believe it. The voiceover guy is wittering on about me just not getting it. Not getting what? Sam tuts. Eddie is up and pacing around now, and I’ve got my face half hidden behind the cushion. I don’t look too bad, my hair and make-up is fab, and the DVF suit nicely accentuates my curves. That old adage of the camera adding on ten pounds doesn’t seem true, as I still look fairly slim – not as slim as Annie, of course, she’s tiny, but not too bad, even if I do say so myself.
Zara is back now and is saying that I should have offered the woman a substantial discount to compensate for the scratch, and that’s why I lost the sale! Unbelievable. If she was half the retail expert that she thinks she is, then she would have familiarised herself with Carrington’s pricing policy – if there’s any kind of hesitation over the quality of the bag, then we always offer another unopened one from the stockroom, which I did. Every decent sales assistant knows that knocking money off the high-end bags just depreciates their value and perceived specialness. It’s a basic. I take a big gulp of buck’s fizz. At least they cut the ladder incident – something to be grateful for, I suppose.
After the ad break, they show me dealing with the complaint, but have cut out the bit where the actor accuses Annie of having used the bag, and also my ‘Zara’ comment. And now Kelly is talking about the new pet spa, and how it’s already boosting revenue for Carrington’s. Eddie is silent, he’s actually got his palms pressed together in a kind of meditative state as we watch him appear on the screen, and he looks fantastic. Really suave, and sort of … illuminated. He’s got a ton of make-up on and has the ‘tits and teeth’ thing going on too, with his shoulders back and an enormous gleaming white smile fixed into place, and the camera really loves him. It’s amazing. It’s as if he was born to it. He’s parading around the spa now, pretending to be looking for a mate for Pussy – introducing all the dogs by name and telling the viewers about each one’s personality. Trixie the poodle loves cuddles. Albert the puppy mutt likes lots of exercise. And oh my God – Eddie is looking directly into the camera now, adopting Kelly’s pointy finger pose and asking the viewers to go online after the show to vote for their favourite friend for Pussy. He’s just like a pro.
‘Genius, Eddie. Well done,’ I cheer, feeling relieved that my bit is over. I’m made up for him. ‘Are you OK?’ He has actual tears in his eyes and I’ve never seen Eddie cry before. Never.
‘Oh it’s nothing. Stupid queen,’ he says, quickly brushing the tears away with the back of his hand before topping up his glass with more buck’s fizz.
‘Wow. Think I’d better call Claire, first thing tomorrow.’ Sam smiles. ‘A star is born! Don’t forget us two when you’re lounging by an infinity pool somewhere exotic with your pool boy bringing you piña colada spritzers.’ She gives him a nudge with her foot.
‘Oooh yes, now wouldn’t that be fabulous? Eddie says, perking up. ‘Say it again,’ he insists, pulling his mirror out to preen some more, and we all laugh.
Turning back to the TV, my smile instantly freezes. Tom is on the screen. He’s wearing the midnight blue Mr Carrington tuxedo, which frames a crisp white shirt, the collar of which is undone to reveal a teaser of his black-curly-haired and very firm tanned chest that has just the right hint of sheen. His dark curly hair is gelled back and he has a shadow of stubble on his chin. His cheeky smile is in place and his eyes are twinkling. My stomach flips and my pulse quickens; he looks utterly gorgeous, as always, and all my doubts about him melt in an instance. It’s as if everything that’s happened between us is irrelevant, silly and inconsequential. I just want to touch him and feel his arms around me, talk to him, share a joke, inhale his delicious chocolatey scent and let him tickle me all over. Oh God, I miss him so much. And I don’t think I realised just how much, until now. Silence follows.
‘Cor! He scrubs up well.’ It’s Eddie who breaks the moment. Sam squeezes my hand tighter as we watch Tom’s scene unfold. He’s being shown around the actual House of Dior! Oh my God. I’m riveted to the screen. I’d love to go there. The bags are divine, and now he’s being shown the exquisite Granville in cruise blue, named after the fashion designer’s home town. I wonder if this means we’ll be stocking Dior bags – my pulse races at the prospect.
The