The Perfect Christmas. Kate Forster
not going anywhere if you talk like that, you sound deranged,’ Zoe said, putting her feet on the coffee table.
‘Spoilsport,’ said Maggie cheerfully. ‘We leave tomorrow, first class. I’ve booked us a suite at The Dorchester.’
‘Jesus, you don’t give a woman much notice,’ said Zoe, thinking of everything she would have to pack for the cold weather, and the work she would have to load onto her laptop to make sure she was ready to return to the office up to date and ahead of the rest.
‘If you don’t remember it, you can buy it there,’ said Maggie with a sweep of her arms, ‘It’s London, the best city in the world to shop at Christmas time.’
***
The trip to London was the best thing she had ever thought of, she decided as she and Zoe boarded the plane. Will and Elliot had left by the time she returned from Zoe’s house, her presents for them both were still in the shopping bags by the Christmas tree.
The hurt was somewhat eased by the first-class lounge, she told Zoe as she sipped her glass of Dom Pérignon.
‘I’m going to enjoy this little vacation,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘I’ve worked hard and I’m going to do it in style. This whole week is on me, Zo, and don’t even think of arguing. I’m not the second highest-paid actress in the world right now for nothing.’
‘I’m not even going to argue with you,’ said Zoe, laughing as she clinked glasses with Maggie.
‘You know,’ Maggie whispered leaning forward, ‘I like being rich.’
Zoe snorted champagne and started to laugh and cough simultaneously.
‘I’m serious. I’ve been poor, actually, what’s below poor? Well, I’ve been that and now I’m not, and it’s a much better place to be.’
Zoe nodded with mutual understanding. ‘As Grammy used to say, “Being poor ain’t never did nobody any favours”.’
Zoe’s phone rang and she picked it up and looked at the screen.
‘I thought you were on holiday,’ complained Maggie.
‘I am, as soon as the plane takes off,’ said Zoe as she answered the call and immediately launched into negotiations about a film deal.
Maggie sat back and sipped her champagne, taking in the luxurious lounge. She recognized a few faces but they ignored her, as she did them. Celebrity and wealth gave you a little privacy, at least in a place like the first-class lounge; nearly everyone wanted to be left alone and to enjoy the experience.
Zoe finished her call and pulled her laptop from her tote bag.
‘Are you serious?’ asked Maggie, eyeing the laptop as though it was the enemy.
‘One email, I promise,’ said Zoe as she opened the lid and then started rapid-fire typing.
‘Excuse me, Ms Hall, Ms Greene, your flight is now boarding,’ said an attendant who was as well groomed as any supermodel Maggie had ever seen.
‘Let’s hustle, Miss Worky Workalot,’ Maggie said as she drained the champagne and picked up her handbag.
Zoe snapped the lid shut and sighed. ‘I’ll finish it on the plane,’ she said as she followed Maggie and the stewardess to the boarding area and then onto the plane.
Flying was something Maggie adored. She loved the order and the little meal trays and the opportunity to watch films or TV shows she would never otherwise indulge in. But flying first class was something else again.
‘Your suite is here,’ said the stewardess. ‘And yours is across the aisle,’ she gestured to Zoe.
Maggie clapped her hands and passed her coat to the stewardess. ‘Do you mind hanging this up for me?’
The stewardess nodded politely.
Maggie leaned into her and whispered conspiratorially, ‘You know, I always get so excited when I fly first, I never, ever take it for granted. When I was a kid, I really wanted your job; it’s so glamorous.’
The stewardess beamed, ‘I’m more than happy to swap jobs now,’ she giggled as she went to hang up Maggie’s coat.
‘God, everyone loves you,’ Zoe said as she sank into her chair.
‘Except Will,’ said Maggie, a cloud coming over her.
Zoe looked up from the computer. ‘None of that, you told me you were going to enjoy yourself.’
Maggie nodded as she accepted a glass of champagne from a silver tray that a steward was offering. ‘Yes, you’re right, excuse my moment of attending my pity party for one, I’m back now,’ she said firmly.
‘Good,’ said Zoe, taking a glass for herself and raising it to Maggie.
‘To London.’
‘To London,’ said Maggie in return, absolutely determined to enjoy herself.
***
The terminal at Heathrow was manic and Maggie felt overwhelmed at the sight of so many people and the paparazzi training their lenses on her.
‘I thought we might have avoided this,’ muttered Maggie as she pushed her luggage on a trolley and considered putting on her sunglasses to stop being blinded by the camera flashes.
‘Fat chance,’ said Zoe. ‘Sadly, I think the media here are more relentless than the ones back home. The airline staff tip off the media as to who is on their flights.’
‘Bastards!’ hissed Maggie.
The yelling and questions came at her like bullets.
‘Why aren’t you spending Christmas with Will?’
‘Have you left Will?’
‘Are you having an affair?’
‘Are you and Zoe lesbians?’
Maggie started to laugh as they got to the waiting car, sent from the hotel, and she and Zoe slipped inside onto the leather seats.
‘If I was a lesbian, I’d totally buy you a drink,’ she said to Zoe.
‘And if I was a lesbian, I’d dump your sorry ass, I don’t date actresses,’ quipped Zoe.
As the car pulled away, leaving the flashing cameras in the distance, Maggie leaned back on her seat.
‘That was stressful,’ she sighed.
Zoe was flicking through her phone, then typing furiously.
‘Don’t worry, Victoria Beckham or the Jolie-Pitts will land and you’ll be all but forgotten.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ said Maggie half-jokingly as Zoe typed and swiped and sighed at whatever was on her screen.
Maggie watched her for a while. ‘You’re a shit life partner, you’re married to your work, not me,’ she said jokingly.
Zoe shrugged, ‘This is why I’m alone, there isn’t a man in LA who can keep up or put up with my pace.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I hear you.’
The car drove into the city centre and Maggie watched the evening lights start to flicker on, the Christmas lights twinkling and people hurrying home from work in the encroaching darkness.
‘God, I love this city,’ she said to herself. Maggie had spent some time in London, usually on a press junket and once filming, but never just for her own pleasure.
Driving over the Westminster Bridge, Big Ben struck six and Maggie thought she might cry with happiness.
‘Now all I need is Peter and the Darling children to fly over us and I will be in heaven,’ she said as she turned to Zoe.
But Zoe was