Christmas at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown
much preferring some ancient Latin parchment or whatever, requiring the handler to wear special white gloves just to unravel it because it’s tied up with a big scarlet ribbon made from real human peasant hair dyed with their blood.
‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’ he asks casually, taking a step forward and circling an arm around my waist. I jump back. ‘Hey, what’s the matter?’ He sounds concerned.
‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure, but I can see that you’re upset. What is it?’ He looks puzzled, as if he genuinely has no idea why.
‘Upset? That’s putting it mildly. Did you get my messages?’
‘Yes,’ he replies. I stare, waiting for him to elaborate.
‘And?’ My forehead creases.
‘Oh, when I say I got them, I meant just a few minutes ago. Haven’t had time to listen properly or read the text messages yet, though,’ he explains, picking up a pile of papers from his desk and flicking through them.
‘I see,’ I say tightly, wondering why he’s being so indifferent. I clear my throat. He stops flicking and places the papers back on the desk.
‘Is this about the filming?’ he smiles.
‘Oh, duh! Ten out of ten, genius.’ I fold my arms, wishing I could be cool and calm like him, instead of borderline hysterical. Tom gives me a strange look, kind of a mixture of bafflement and disappointment, and one I haven’t seen on him before.
‘Georgie, why are you being like this? It’s not like you.’ He steps towards me again, hesitates, and places a hand on my arm instead.
‘Are you wearing guyliner?’ I ask, suddenly distracted.
‘Err, I think so.’ He shrugs his shoulders and grins. ‘The production team insisted on trying out some looks for the opening credits … hence the tux.’ He opens his arms to show off the midnight blue dinner suit and crisp white shirt, making him look even more adorable than ever. ‘They’re going with a “Mr Carrington” image, whatever that means.’ His smile widens as he raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
‘That’s nice for you,’ I say, in my best breezy voice.
‘Oh come on, don’t be like this.’
‘Like what?’ I ask, wishing I didn’t sound so much like a sulky teenager.
‘So emotional.’
‘Well I’m sorry if I have emotions, but why didn’t you tell me about the filming? Warn me at least?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Of course you could. You’re the boss, you can do whatever you like.’
‘It’s not quite as … simple as that.’ He glances down at the carpet and my cheeks smart from the implication.
‘Then why don’t you explain it to me then?’
‘Look, I didn’t mean anything malicious by it, but I can’t just … do whatever I like, as you say. Yes, Aunt Camille sold her majority share to me, to keep the store in the family – and with a bit of luck and lots of hard work, we’ll manage to turn it around and keep us all employed for many more years to come. But there’s the board to consider.’ I bite my bottom lip. ‘That’s what doing the show is all about; it’s an incredible opportunity for Carrington’s and we are really lucky to be given the series,’ he says, as though he’s learnt it off by heart from an official statement that somebody prepared earlier for him.
‘So it had nothing to do with your mother and Kelly being friends from Cambridge then?’
‘A little, but Kelly will transform the business and really put us back on the map. Help us fend off this terminal decline.’
‘And make fools of us. Me in particular – did you actually see the show last night?’
‘Not yet. I got caught up on a conference call with a foreign supplier,’ he explains. And I secretly wonder if it might be a blessing in disguise. I’m not sure I want him seeing my embarrassing debut on the TV screen, despite what Eddie says – he’s my friend so he’s bound to be kind about it.
‘Was it any good?’ Tom smiles and raises his eyebrows enthusiastically.
‘No, it blooming wasn’t! It was embarrassing, and they set me up. Annie too. Did you know they were going to edit the film to make us look like totally incompetent and inefficient sales assistants?’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’ He frowns, and then quickly adds, ‘They didn’t show your faces, did they?’
‘Like that makes a difference,’ I say, resisting the urge to slap his beautiful cheek.
‘Well, they wanted to originally, but I stopped it,’ he says, looking pleased with himself. I smart from his indifference and obvious loyalty to Kelly and Zara over me.
‘You could have at least warned me.’
‘I couldn’t. The board voted in favour of signing the NDA with the production company.’ I give him a blank look, hating myself all over again for feeling so out of my depth. ‘Non-disclosure agreement,’ he says, tactfully. ‘So you see, I couldn’t tell you, even if I’d wanted to.’
‘So you wanted to then?’ I ask, my spirits lifting slightly at the prospect of redeeming something from this hideous situation.
‘I know how much you love these reality TV programmes. It was meant to be a surprise,’ he says, deftly avoiding my question. He looks away.
‘A surprise? Tom, you humiliated me. You kept a secret and it’s not the first time.’ I bite my lip again.
‘Hang on a minute. I thought you understood about that,’ he says, his voice dropping and his eyes flashing.
‘Oh, I understood plenty. That you didn’t trust me enough to let me know you were Tom Carrington posing as just another sales assistant.’
‘And is it any wonder when you react like this?’ he says, running a hand through his hair.
‘Like what?’ I say, glaring at him.
‘Practically hysterical.’
‘Well, I’m sorry if I’m too hysterical for you now.’ My heart is hammering inside my chest.
‘That’s not what I said.’ Silence follows. Tom clears his throat and turns away from me. ‘I can’t deal with this now, not here.’
‘But I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. We’ve been flirting for months, and now dating. I thought we had something, or did I get it completely wrong?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘So I’m ridiculous now?’
‘Georgie, this is getting us nowhere.
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ An awkward silence follows.
‘So what do we do now?’ It’s Tom who speaks first.
‘I have no idea. Why don’t you decide … seeing as you’re the one in charge,’ I snap.
‘Fine,’ he retaliates, looking really fired up as he paces around the room, flicking his shirtsleeve back to check the time on his watch. ‘If I’m upsetting you so much, then maybe we should just call it a day … ’ He comes to a halt in front of me and stands with his hands on his hips, as if daring me to challenge his decision.
‘Good. I was thinking just the same thing,’ I say, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. I don’t want to split up. I want us to be together. Having fun. Falling in love. Just like other blissfully happy couples. But I do have some pride, and if he isn’t as into me as I thought, which is glaringly obvious given that he’s this quick to suggest