Christmas Cracker 3-Book Collection. Lindsey Kelk
Hart. Women’s Accessories,’ I say, sounding like a bit of a plum, but I’m not used to people announcing their name, surname and job description all in one go. ‘And don’t worry about a palette for me, I won’t be needing one. Besides, I have a uniform,’ I smile apologetically, having spotted a man with a little boy hovering near the Chloé display.
‘Don’t be silly. Kelly will want all of you sales assistants to be dressed in Carrington’s clothes. How else can customers see what the store’s merchandise will look like on them? She’s already given Womenswear a makeover, replaced the entire stock with catwalk couture, all the latest fashions, instead of that dowdy, middle-of-the-road merch thing they had going on up there.’ She rolls her eyes up towards the first floor while I wonder if I should mention that our regular customers obviously like the ‘dowdy, middle-of-the-road look’, as we’ve never had any complaints. ‘And you might as well make the most of a free fabulous wardrobe opportunity,’ she says, doing the manic grin again. ‘You’ll probably get to keep most of the clothes, and Kelly’s already told the board about the new rule – Carrington’s staff wear Carrington’s clothes. End of.’
‘I’m sorry, Hannah, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have a customer to serve.’ I gesture in the man’s direction before heading over to greet him.
‘Are you looking for a particular bag?’ I ask, giving the guy a big smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hannah nudge a little closer.
‘Yes please. Something expensive for my wife. A Christmas present. Thought I’d get organised for a change,’ he says in a lovely lilting Irish accent before ruffling the little boy’s jet-black curly hair.
‘Excuse me. Do you know where Father Christmas is?’ The boy looks up at me, his big green eyes all sparkly with anticipation. ‘I’ve got a list. Daddy said I can give it to him.’
‘Well, I think he might be downstairs in his grotto.’ I crouch down so I’m head height with the boy. ‘And a list is a very good idea, how else will he know what you like best?’ I smile. After studying my face for a bit, the boy flings his arms around my neck and gives me an enormous squeeze, practically winding me in the process. I pat his back tentatively, relishing the spontaneous moment of comfort.
‘Hey, Declan, come on now.’ I stand up and the man goes to scoop the boy up into his arms, but he’s too quick and ducks behind the display. ‘Sorry. My wife’s just had a new baby and he’s feeling a little bit left out,’ the man whispers when the boy is out of earshot.
‘Aw, would he like one of these little teddies?’ I ask.
I take one of the fluffy white miniature bears down from the DKNY shelf and give it to the boy when he reappears. One of the brand managers brought in a batch for us to give away free with the purchase of every bag, but I’m sure they can spare one for a cute little boy.
‘Thanks so much,’ the guy says to me before turning to Declan and taking his hand. ‘What do you say to the nice lady?’
‘Thank you.’ Declan giggles and snuggles into the bear, looking really chuffed before pushing it out towards me. ‘He’s called Nice Lady Bear.’ The guy rolls his eyes and laughs, and I can’t help laughing too.
‘How much is this one?’ The man quickly composes himself, and points to a gorgeous dusty pink, top handle Chloé bag with signature gold metalwork.
‘Oh, good choice. This one is a limited edition; we only have two left and I can’t guarantee delivery again this side of Christmas Day.’
‘Is it a popular one, you know … an It bag, or whatever they call them?’ He pushes a hand through his hair as Declan simultaneously bounces Nice Lady Bear in his stomach.
‘Oh yes, it was in Elle magazine last week.’ I take the tag from the inside pocket and show it to him.
‘Blimey, that’s more than I paid for my first car.’ He shakes his head and tweaks Declan’s freckly nose.
‘We have others if this one is a little more than you wanted to spend,’ I say, discreetly. He hesitates for a moment before nodding decisively.
‘I’ll take it. Because she’s worth it.’ He shrugs.
‘Shall we go over to my counter so I can gift-wrap it for you?’ I smile.
After placing the bag in a soft white drawstring dust bag, and cocooning it in a puff of our signature powder-blue tissue, I tie it all up with an enormous navy satin ribbon and hand the guy his credit card back. I stow the bag in a giant gift box, sprinkle in a handful of silver snowflake confetti and close the lid, before carefully sliding it into one of our special Christmas-themed paper carrier bags. I twirl a length of red gingham ribbon around the handles.
‘Thanks a million.’ He takes the bag and hoists Declan up onto his shoulders.
Once they’ve headed off towards the escalator, Hannah darts in front of my face.
‘Cor! Wish I had a husband like that – talk about thoughtful, and great with kids of course. And you are soo gooood. I can see why Kelly’s earmarked you for a starring role. You’re a natural sales woman, no coaching requirements for you!’ she gushes, practically hyperventilating with sheer excitement. I stare at her, wondering if she’s for real.
‘That’s because I am actually a sales woman. It’s my job, in real life,’ I say, stating the obvious.
‘Yes, yes, of course you are, but well … you know what I mean.’ She does a little giggle. ‘Now, Leo wants to check a few things with you and then we’re good to roll. Friday afternoon, the quietest time in store I’ve been told, there’ll be a short briefing, a run-through of the “scenario”. Not too much, natch.’ She giggles again. ‘We want the show to be as authentic as possible.’
‘But I’m not in the show,’ I say, busying myself with updating my sales sheet.
‘Of course you are. You’re going to be a star,’ she says, giving me a blank face, and quite clearly unable to comprehend my reluctance. She’s obviously used to people begging for airtime.
‘Nope, not me.’ I put my sales sheet away and start stacking the ring trays on top of each other in preparation for giving the glass counter a good buffing over. I like everything to look pristine, as there’s nothing worse than a messy point-of-sale area.
‘But you have to be. Kelly wants you. And she always gets what she wants. She’s the boss, she owns the production company, KCTV.’
‘Well, not this time. And she doesn’t own me. Anyway, it’s not the law,’ I say, probably a little too petulantly as I fold my arms to underline the point.
‘It practically is.’ Pursing her lips, Hannah grips the chart tighter and tries to stare me out.
‘What do you mean?’ I cave in first and glance at the floor before looking back at her face which is now a rhubarb-red colour.
‘Check your employment contract. It’s all covered in there. I’ll be back.’ And she marches off, closely followed by Leo, who has to do a gentle jog to keep up with her as he attempts to juggle the sound paraphernalia about his body at the same time.
So it’s true. Hannah was right. I managed to hold out until my lunch break to check. And after waving off regular customers, Mr and Mrs Peabody, who never actually buy anything, they just like to come instore for a chat and to share pictures of their grandchildren who live in California, I’m in Amy’s office with a copy of my employment contract on the desk in front of me.
‘It’s a wonderful opportunity for Carrington’s,’ Amy says, diplomatically. She’s standing next to me, wearing a taupe Ted Baker trouser suit and pointing to sub-section nineteen, clause a hundred trillion, or whatever. It says Carrington’s can use promotional material made within the store,