Cupcakes At Carrington's Part 12

'Yep, down the side of the store by the car park. I only got a glimpse as I was going past on the bus, but it looked very pa.s.sionate; he had his back against a wall and she was practically licking his colon. Lucky cow, what I wouldn't do for a bit of him.' I ponder on the information for a moment. So, Maxine is playing me then. She must be backing Tom. 'And that's not all. I overheard her doing the phone s.e.x thing on the BlackBerry again. All panty and flirty she was before realising her door was ajar. Never seen her move so fast when I popped my head around the door on purpose just to wind her up. Anyway, watch your back with them.'

'Mmm. Will do, and thanks for the tip-off.' I wonder if James knows about it. I make a mental note to ask him next time we're alone. 'Thanks for letting me know,' I finish.

I decide to try and avoid Tom from now on. I don't see why I should put in all the hard work while he sits around whispering into the phone waiting for Maxine to sack me. It's obviously her he's chatting to. He may be drop-dead gorgeous with impeccable manners, but it's not enough to overlook the fact he can't be trusted. I feel disproportionately upset by how this makes me feel, but quickly push the thoughts away and try to concentrate on what Eddie is saying instead.

'No problem, that's what friends are for.'

Eddie leaves and my mobile vibrates inside my pocket. Seeing it's James, I duck out into the corridor for some privacy.

'Just a quick call.' His voice sounds distant, as if he's in a tunnel.

'You OK, you sound like you've fallen down a drain?' I say, instantly wishing I'd thought of something slightly less prosaic to say.

'Yes, I'm fine. I'm in the Gents upstairs only place I could think of for some privacy. Just about to go in to my weekly meeting with Maxine.' His voice sounds rushed.

'Oh, good luck.'

'Thanks. How are you getting on with her?' he asks, sounding genuinely interested, as though he has all the time in the world for me.

'Honestly. I'm not sure,' I say, wondering whether I should elaborate, but probably best to wait until he isn't in such a rush.

'Yeah, she can be a bit like that.' I smart momentarily at the familiarity in his voice. 'Anyway, I was just calling to see if you fancy dinner on Sat.u.r.day. I could pick you up around eightish?'

'Yes, I'd love to.'

'Great. Let's catch up properly then.' And before I have a chance to thank him for the flowers, there's a click and I realise he's ended the call.

Lunchtime in the canteen, and everyone's talking about the team-building event. It's in Brighton and we have to arrive the night before to be certain of an early start, which makes it a whole lot more exciting seeing as James will be there too. And we're staying overnight in a hotel. It was going to be a B&B but Sam said Caroline from the salon told her she'd overheard Camille on the phone putting her Gucci-clad foot down and insisting on doing things properly, and that Carrington's may be facing a decline but a reputation for providing quality must still be maintained.

Melissa, our st.u.r.dy plain-clothes store detective, appears to have taken on the role of events organiser and is asking everyone for a bust size. She's come up with some whacky idea of renting a room at Lucky Voice for a karaoke session on the Sat.u.r.day night and making it into a bit of a stag do for Ciaran. Any excuse for a bit of debauchery, especially since she found out Tina won't be there to spoil the fun for everyone. Melissa's cousin owns a printing shop and has even offered to make up special T-shirts for us all.

'Georgie ... just in time. What bust size shall I get you. Extra tight?' She casts a roving eye at my chest. Instinctively I cross my arms.

'In your dreams. I'll be wearing my own clothes,' I retaliate, and the others all laugh. Melissa then turns her attentions on Arnie, a warehouse guy from Sweden.

'Arnie,' Melissa starts, full of exaggerated bonhomie, 'let me guess ... 6XL for you?'

'Aren't you getting me confused with the size of your head?' he retorts.

I relax into the atmosphere, which feels just like it used to be before Maxine turned up. We're all laughing everybody that is, except Tom. He's still whispering into his phone. He looks up and around at us all and then carries on talking. I feel uncomfortable. Maybe he's spying for Maxine.

I glance up just in time to see Tina standing by the soup urn. She has a strange expression on her face and is busy scribbling something down in a red notebook. I wonder how long she's been standing there, and my paranoia increases. She might also be spying for Maxine! Nothing would surprise me any more. I shiver with unease.

21.

After trawling through my wardrobe several times over I've decided on a b.u.t.terfly print Zara maxi dress that I bought in last summer's sale, together with the Gina sandals from Sam. Glancing at the clock on the shelf, I see that I've got plenty of time to finish getting ready before James arrives.

My stomach growls, but I try and ignore it. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast well, apart from some sushi and a KitKat, in an attempt to look as slim as possible for this evening. Just as I contemplate foraging in the kitchen for a small snack, the phone rings.

'Only me.' Sam's voice sounds full of happiness. 'All set for this evening?' she asks, brightly.

'Think so, just make-up to do, and then I'll be ready,' I say. I walk out onto the balcony and settle down on my comfy sun lounger. I've got plenty of time for a chat.

'What underwear have you got on?' she demands, and I burst into laughter at her directness.

'Well, if you must know, Sam, I'm not wearing any yet. I'm still in my dressing gown,' I say, keeping my voice down so the neighbours don't hear.

'It's important to have good underwear on tonight,' she says, sounding all serious and mumsy.

'Yes, yes I know.'

'Why don't you wear that gorgeous black lace set?' I don't reply straight away, I'm too busy mulling over the implication and, amid the still-lingering doubts, I feel a tingle of antic.i.p.ation about a repeat performance with James.

'Mmm ... maybe. How's Nathan?' I ask, changing the subject and crossing my fingers that it's still going well. You never know with Sam.

'Oh Georgie, he's such a treat. And I think I actually might be in love with him. For real.' Her voice soars as she tells me.

'Sam that's fantastic. What about him, has he said anything?' I tread carefully, wary of putting my foot in it. Sam isn't suspicious of men like I've been since the break-up with Brett, but then Alfie has never let her down. And Sam always falls head over heels in love very quickly, although she's been caught out a few times over the years because of it.

'Oh, he's already told me he loves me,' she replies, airily, and then adds, 'which is why I'm making him wait. I'm not taking any chances this time around.'

'So you managed to offload that other guy then. Justin, wasn't it?' I say, casting my mind back.

'Oh yes, he was actually quite sweet about it when I eventually told him I wasn't interested. G.o.d, that seems like ages ago now.'

'Well that's fantastic. I'm so pleased for you. You deserve to find your one, your real one.'

'Maybe I'll tell him while we're away. I can't wait,' she exclaims. I think of the team-building do, and the heady feeling I had when James told me he'd called the hotel and asked them to put us in adjoining rooms.

'Changing the topic completely, Nathan b.u.mped into Tom a few evenings ago at the squash club. Anyway, Nathan asked him how the new job was going but he didn't say much about it. Only that there's a woman he likes.'

I knew it.

'So that confirms it then.' I was right all along.

'What do you mean?'

'It's Maxine. They've got some ruse going on,' I say, neatly fitting the jigsaw together.

'Are you sure?'

'Eddie even saw them together. Actually snogging!' I feel slightly sick as I tell her this. Maybe I should have eaten more today; it's no wonder I feel weird.

'Nooo,' she replies, dramatically.

'Yep. But then when his name came up during my one-to-one with her, she commented that he's an "unknown ent.i.ty". Made out like she didn't even know him. To cover her tracks, I guess.'

'How sneaky is that?' Sam says, indignantly.

'Totally,' I reply, craning my neck to keep an eye on the clock in the lounge. An hour has rushed by. 'Anyway, Sam, I must finish getting ready. He'll be here soon.'

'Oh yes, off you go. Call me as soon as you can. And remember, the black lace. He won't be able to keep his hands off you,' Sam advises before hanging up.

I'm checking myself again in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. The dress accentuates my curvy figure nicely and the new eyeliner in plum really brings out the turquoise of my eyes. I've even managed to get my hair looking really big. I check my false eyelashes again. Perfect! They're all velvety and fluttery. I add another slick of Benefit minty fresh California Kissin' lip gloss, which on inspection of my teeth, really does make them look extra white. A spritz of Cavalli from a tester bottle that Scarlett in Celebrity Perfumes gave me, and I'm ready and waiting for him. I lean into the mirror and, pursing my lips, I close my eyes just enough so I can peek through the lashes to see what James will see when he kisses me. I feel like a teenager again.

The sudden chime of the doorbell makes me jump and I shoot back from the mirror as though I've been caught out. He's here, and he's early. I rush to the hallway, and then pause beside the hall table. Taking a deep breath, I wait a second until my heart slows down.

I open the door and instantly the welcoming smile slips from my face. James is standing in front of me wearing scruffy old jeans and a washed-out old sweatshirt.

'I'm not stopping,' he barks. His eyes are flashing.

'James, what is it?' Something terrible has happened. G.o.d, I hope n.o.body has died.

'Dinner is cancelled.' He glowers at me and I instantly realise that no one is dead. He's raging angry ... and it's with me.

'What do you mean? Look, why don't you come in?' I stand aside. He barges past me and strides off into the lounge. I hurry after him. When I get into the room, he's standing beside the fireplace, his fists clenching and unclenching. 'James, please tell me what's going on.'

'Why don't you tell me?' His voice is tight. He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair and I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Swallowing, I taste blood, metallic against the mint of the lip gloss.

'James, I don't know what you're talking about.' For a brief moment, his face softens, but then quickly clouds over again.

'I'll spell it out for you, shall I?' he says, sarcastically. Then he moves away from the fireplace and, standing opposite me, I see his eyes are glimmering with rage. 'I thought I could trust you,' he shouts, his face glowering down at mine.

'You can.' I try to sound calm as I rack my brain searching for a clue as to what's happened.

'Well, I used to think so, but it turns out that you're just like the rest of them.' The insinuation is sickening.

'What do mean? I hope you're not suggesting that I'm like Rebecca.'

'Don't bring her into it,' he says, defensively, and far too quickly. So, he still holds a candle for her then. So, I was right ... he does need more time.

'Please, just tell me what's happened.' I can hear my own heart beating.

'Like you don't know. You've been playing me all along, probably thinking that you'll just reel me in and steal my job from under me ... and grab yourself a nice Valentine's Day present too, while you're at it. Was that your little plan?' he says, sarcastically. I've never seen him like this before. The silence that follows is excruciating.

'James, that's not true. You were the one who asked me out, remember?' I say, softly, in a vain attempt to try and unravel what's happened.

'Yeah, like a fool, don't remind me.'

I feel the anger rising inside me now, and I can't help retaliating. 'Well I'm sorry if the memory is so ghastly for you,' I reply, my voice trembling. Then I notice his shoulders drop and his face changes.

'Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Georgie, I can't do this. Us. I'm sorry ... it's just too soon,' he says, calming down. He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to leave.

A sudden inexplicable sense of relief rushes through me, but I still want to know what I'm supposed to have done wrong.

'James, you can't just storm in here making accusations and then waltz right out again. I know it must be hard getting divorced but ...' I reach out to grab his arm and catch the back of his sweatshirt instead. He stops and turns towards me, a look of utter contempt on his face.

'You have no idea! Now get your thieving hands off me.' I stare at him, the tears stinging my cheeks. Thieving! The word is like a knife stabbing into my stomach. 'Just like your father.' I reel backwards in shock. I grab hold of the hall table as if it's an emergency buoy. James reaches out and touches my arm and I'm sure I spot a brief flicker of concern dart through his eyes, but it evaporates before I can be sure.

'But I thought you understood ...' My voice is low, a whisper almost.

'Why, because I kept your little secret? Like a fool.' He looks away, s.n.a.t.c.hing his hand back.

'So what is it exactly that I'm supposed to have stolen, James?' My voice sounds cold now, masking the churn of emotions that are swirling around inside me. He reaches for the lock on the front door and pulls it open. He turns to face me.

'Malikov. Ring any bells?' My hand flies to my throat. Oh G.o.d. The necklace. He knows. Malikov must have gone back on his request for privacy and told him.

'James, please. I can explain,' I say, the words barely audible.

'Georgie, you know the rules,' he adds, suddenly sounding all businesslike and distant. My body is trembling, with fear of his anger and of losing everything I've worked so hard for.

'I know,' I murmur, hanging my head in shame.

'Whaat? Did you think you'd just keep all of the commission for yourself and I wouldn't find out?' There's a silence as I drag myself up to speed. So this isn't about the necklace, after all.

'G.o.d, is that what this is all about? James, I'm sorry, I meant to tell you that Malikov had bought more bags,' I say, desperate for him to see that he's got it all wrong. Hoping I can salvage something. Make it good between us again.

'So why didn't you then? He was my customer originally, what happened to us sharing the sales commission?' Silence follows.

'I tried to ...' I pause, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable. I contemplate telling him everything. I search his eyes. They're full of rage, mixed with disgust, and I have my answer. I know that I can't risk it. 'Before we went for that drink, remember? And you said you didn't want to talk about work and with everything going on ...' As the words come out I know they sound lame and I feel like a pathetic idiot. I should have made d.a.m.n sure I remembered so he could have claimed his half of the commission. I hate myself.

'Don't make me laugh. Malikov won't even take my calls any more,' he says, sounding sarcastic again. He shakes his head at me and a wave of nausea washes through me.

'But I can fix it. All you need to do is add half to your sales sheet,' I plead. It's not worth falling out with him over it, but he interrupts.

'G.o.d, you are so clueless. Maxine has already made me aware of what a fantastic customer experience you're giving Malikov. No, it's too late for that. We're finished.'

Something inside me snaps.

'But it's OK for you to gossip behind my back with your ex-girlfriend, Maxine,' I snipe, not really thinking or caring what I say. 'Don't tell me that you didn't know she'd bring up my personal business and quite possibly use it to get rid of me?'

'Is that what you really think?' shaking his head at me in disbelief. But before I can answer, he's gone.

The door bounces back against the frame before slamming shut and I sink down into a heap behind it. I feel wretched. I just wish everything could go back to how it was pre-Maxine. I haven't slept properly for ages, and the constant feeling of paranoia is like a cancer spreading through every part of me. I was so stupid to think that selling the necklace to clear my debts would mean getting a proper night's sleep. The insomnia is worse now than ever.

I manage to drag myself up and into the bedroom. My nails catch as I pull at the dress, and a ripping sound resonates around the room. I hurl the dress across the floor and kick off the Gina shoes, which slam against the mirror. I tear at my underwear; the giggly phone call with Sam seems an age ago. I feel numb. So much for letting myself dream of actually having a date for the wedding. At this rate, I'm going to end up a lonely old bag with just cats for company.