The Little Christmas Kitchen (25 page)

Her granny was about to walk away when she paused, turned back and opening the door to the phone box said, ‘It’s lovely to have you here, you know? Just lovely.’ Then she smiled and hurried after Ella’s granddad who’d marched off with the umbrella.

Ella watched them go. A rising sick feeling in her stomach of uncertainty. Lack of control. Of being trapped. The rain claustrophobic in its persistence.

She needed some kind of normality. A touchstone. An anchor that no matter what, never changed.

She picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Hi Max,’ she said, leaning against the glass. ‘It’s your sort-of ex-wife.’

CHAPTER 32

MADDY

Maddy didn’t go home after breakfast. Instead she waved goodbye to her dad – Veronica had already left because her miniature schnauzer had been home alone too long – and headed blindly into London to do some Christmas shopping. If she went back to the apartment, she knew she’d just get nervous about her three o’clock appointment. So, A to Z in her pocket, she decided she wanted to just get lost and see what happened in the two hours before she was meeting with Rollo.

The snow was falling heavier again. The pavements down side streets were thick with white and the roads a mess of carved-up black slush. Maddy tried to stick to the main thoroughfares where the grit had melted the snow and she didn’t have to worry about ruining her shoes.

Following a couple of tourists, she turned a corner into Leicester Square, walked past the cinemas playing Christmas blockbusters and the queues of kids outside M&M World and, glancing at a signpost decided to carry on in the direction of Piccadilly Circus. The flakes kept falling thick and fast as she walked. Shoppers barged past her with big bags up their arms from Hamleys and smaller ones from the Apple Store. Maddy had left a present for her mum back home but she wondered now if she should have got Ella something. They never had before but this year seemed different. And what if her dad asked her to come to his for Christmas? Would she accept? Did she want to spend the day with him and Veronica? She’d presumed it would be the first Christmas she spent alone but, with only a few days to go, it felt suddenly like he would ask her. And she would feel obliged to accept. She’d have to get them presents…

‘Shit.’ She stopped in the middle of the pavement on Regent Street.

‘For Christ’s sake! What’s wrong with people?’ A woman with a buggy barged past her.

‘Sorry.’ Maddy called, distracted, and ducked into Starbucks to get out of everyone’s way. One red cup of peppermint mocha later and she’d decided that presents for her dad and Veronica were a necessity and she would do as the American couple sitting next to her were doing and head to Fortnum and Mason.

‘Will you look at it honey? Will you just look at that window?’ the American wife called out as they stood in front of the infamous Fortnum’s Christmas window display, snow piling up around their feet, covering their jackets, landing cool on their cheeks. Her husband nodded and lifted up his camera to take a shot. They had no idea that Maddy was tagging along with them as she too paused and stared.

Lined with Christmas trees, standing proudly on the awning, the building sparkled. Behind each pane were little vignettes of fairytales, of Sleeping Beauty and the bejewelled red apple falling from her hand, Cinderella and her sparkling glass slipper, Rapunzel and her shimmering locks, Prince Charming waiting in the wings for them all. Maddy took out her phone and was about to take a couple of photos but paused, deciding instead that she would just look. Would take in every detail, every moment and remember it clearer in her mind than any photograph. This would be her trip to London. Her breakfast with her dad, the promise of a meeting with Rollo, her job at
Big Mack’s
, her friends at Ella’s apartment block. This was her Christmas. The snow falling on her face, her hands stuffed deep into her pockets, her toes frozen, the tourists next to her leaning forward and going, ‘Hank is that a little mouse in this one, oh isn’t that so dear. It’s got a little collar and it’s eating jelly fruit. We’ve gotta get some of that jelly fruit. And some jam for Mom, and pate, Moira wants English Breakfast tea. Hank, I’m cold, let’s go inside.’

Maddy watched them in their matching North Face jackets, hers pink, his blue, and then squeezed her eyes shut to bake the image onto her mind so she would never forget them because they had been part of her moment.

Inside, the shop it was warm and bustling. Beautifully colour coordinated Christmas trees almost touched the ceiling and great piles of turquoise boxes of champagne and truffles, and wicker hampers stamped with F&M bursting with festive treats lined the way. Maddy was suddenly too hot in her coat, jostled by over-eager shoppers and overwhelmed by all the choice. She wanted to get over to the chocolate counter and maybe pick out some truffles for her dad but the queue snaked back across the shop and she couldn’t push her way through. Pulling off her hat, she felt sweat trickle down her back and the roasting heat made her start to feel nauseous. The person in front of her turned and their backpack knocked over a stack of biscuits but they didn’t stop to pick them up. Maddy bent down to collect up as many as she could but people’s feet were kicking the packets out of her reach. Finally a sales assistant appeared to help and glared at her as if it was her fault.

Maddy wanted to be back outside looking in. The promise so much better than the reality. Grabbing a ceramic pot of Stilton and a miniature hamper of jams she headed to the till, then changed her mind about the jams and got some tea. Veronica seemed more Lapsang Souchong than strawberry jam. And when she was finally back out on Piccadilly, her turquoise carrier bag of presents in her hand, she took a big gulp of ice cold air and turned back to the lovely windows to take another snap with her memory.

‘Maddy, great, so pleased you could make it.’ Rollo was sitting behind a big glass desk when his secretary showed her in. ‘Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, vodka? Line of coke? Kidding, sorry, just kidding.’ He held up his hands and guffawed at his own wit.

Maddy shook her head. ‘No thanks I’m fine.’

‘Really? We have good coffee.’ Rollo stood up, shrugged on his suit jacket that hung on the back of his chair and walked round to lean against his desk. When Maddy shook her head again, he said, ‘Well I could murder one. Can’t start the morning or the afternoon without caffeine.’

His secretary had waited by the door to hear if Maddy wanted a beverage and gave a quick nod before leaving to show she’d taken Rollo’s order.

‘So–’ he said, seemingly patting down his jacket for cigarettes. ‘You can sing?’

Maddy nodded.

The address on the card had been in Kensington. Looking on the map she had thought she could walk there but half way she was so exhausted and so cold that she’d got in a black cab and spent the rest of Veronica’s fifty pounds. Now she was standing in the plushest office she’d ever been in. On the top floor of a vast art deco building, the inside had been gutted of all original features and the white walls projected with a different primary colour. As she’d stepped out of the lift and into reception the floor had lit up blue and the red walls changed to yellow. Television screens played videos on a loop of pop bands she’d vaguely heard of and winners of TV talent competitions smiling in awe as ticker tape burst from the sky. The receptionist had barely spoken to her when she’d said she had a meeting with Rollo, just stood up and implied that Maddy follow her clip-clop Jimmy Choo heels down the corridor to Rollo’s office, watching as the squares beneath her feet changed colour.

As they reached Rollo’s office his secretary had plucked Maddy’s snow-covered coat and damp Fortnum’s bag from her hand and handed it to a young boy who looked like he was on work experience. Maddy had watched him walk off with her stuff, half apologising for its wetness and half wondering where the hell it was going.

‘Good. I’m looking for a singer.’ Rollo said, voice muffled as he took a couple of puffs on his e-cigarette.

Maddy shook her head. ‘Oh I didn’t– I just came to ask some questions. Get some advice.’

‘I’m sure you did.’ Rollo nodded, then strode over to the door where his secretary was coming in with a mug of coffee. ‘Thanks honey.’ he said, wrapping one hand around the cup and taking a slug. ‘Is everyone downstairs?’

‘Yes, they’re waiting.’ The secretary handed him a file and an iPad and left.

‘You want some advice?’ Rollo asked, taking another great gulp of coffee. ‘Do everything I ask and smile a lot. That gap-toothed thing you have going on is good – very Georgia May Jagger. Come on.’ He stood waiting, cup in one hand, file under his arm, holding the door open with his elbow.

‘Where are we going?’ Maddy frowned, feeling like the situation was going out of her control.

‘Downstairs.’ Rollo laughed. ‘Come on, move it.’

When she heard the office door click shut behind her, Maddy thought about backing up down the corridor and fleeing in the lift. Even if it meant leaving her Fortnum’s stuff. Rollo was on the phone, marching ahead. His hair was freshly gelled and he smelt citrusy, like a Calvin Klein aftershave. As she trotted after him trying to keep up she wondered if he’d been to the gym since breakfast. There was probably one in the building. She glanced behind her and saw meetings going on in huge glass walled offices. All around people in beautiful clothes were tapping away at iMacs and laughing while they stood drinking coffee in takeaway cups at each other’s desks. Geek-chic interns were rushing about with piles of papers while barking orders down mobiles. There were people everywhere, all confident, all stunning, all impeccably turned out. A girl sashayed past in skinny jeans that nipped in tight at the waist and an oversized kaleidoscopic print shirt slipping off one shoulder. Skin the colour of butterscotch and make-up perfectly invisible. Maddy wished she hadn’t stood so long in the snow or walked so far in her shoes. She wasn’t used to feeling so out of place. At home she was carefree, confident, easy but here she was intimidated, nervous, embarrassed of her appearance and daunted – by both Rollo and whatever it was he was leading her into.

‘Down here.’ Rollo summoned her with a wave of his hand.

They took the lift down to the basement. Rollo was on the phone the whole time. He said things like, ‘I’ll take the jet,’ and ‘Maybe but I think a helicopter wouldn’t work.’ He ended the call with, ‘Money’s no object, just get it done,’ smiled at Maddy and then marched out into what looked like a car park.

‘Rollo!’ a girl with a clipboard shouted. ‘Over here.’

Rollo got out his e-cigarette and the iPad as he walked over to where a group of people were sitting in fold out directors’ chairs, ushering Maddy forward in front of him. The basement was all concrete. One of the walls was spray-painted with Banksy-esque stencil graffiti, another had a curtain strung up and scaffolding, guys in hard-hats were working on some set construction. The group they were walking towards were positioned in front a makeshift stage, a lighting rig suspended from more scaffolding and the floor was made up of scratched black boxes with big gaffer tape crosses on them. Either side of the stage were huge speakers and a scaffold platform from which a girl was securing black drapes as a backdrop. Just before they reached the others, a guy in black jumped on the stage and did a thumbs up to someone at the back of the room. Music blasted out, deafening French rap that made the whole place thump and Maddy almost cover her ears.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Rollo shouted. ‘Why are they testing with that shit?’

The guy on stage was grinning as the room vibrated. ‘You no like?’

‘I no fucking like.’ Rollo shook his head and the guy signalled for the music to cut.

‘You’re such a killjoy, Rollo.’

‘Yeah and I pay your salary. Now bugger off.’ Rollo rolled his eyes and then summoned over a geeky looking intern to get him a macchiato.

The group lounging in the chairs were looking their way. Most of them looked like they worked for Rollo in some capacity. Three girls however sat slightly to the side. Much younger than the rest and dressed like they’d run wildly through Topshop grabbing whatever they could reach. The blonde of the three had pink shampoo highlights, the other two were brunette, one with alabaster skin and eyes like an alien, the other darker, possibly Spanish or Italian, and so pretty it was almost hurt Maddy’s eyes, like looking at the sun.

‘So I need a fourth.’ Rollo said, nodding towards where the girls sat perched nervously on their chairs. ‘I had a fourth but she’s stuck in New York because no planes are flying because of the snow. It’s bloody annoying and I’m unbelievably pissed off about it.’ The intern appeared with the machiato. ‘Thank you.’ Rollo snapped. ‘So, get up there, let’s hear you.’

‘What, now?’ Maddy didn’t have time to take the shock out of her voice.

Rollo had the takeaway cup up to his lips, ‘Yes now.’ he said before downing the espresso shot.

Glancing round the warehouse-like space she just saw people who were going to hear her. Workmen bashing at scenery, interns huddled together gossiping, the other girls in the group who eyed her suspiciously, all of Rollo’s staff who were waiting – some looking Maddy’s way, others deep in conversation unbothered.

‘What do you want me to sing?’ Maddy stammered.

‘What do you normally sing?’ Rollo raised his eyebrows and spoke as if Maddy was a toddler.

‘Like, folk-y stuff. With my guitar.’ Maddy bit her lip.

‘Clarissa!’ Rollo called out. ‘Have you got a guitar?’

‘Nope. No guitars, Rollo,’ the girl with the clipboard shouted back from where she was pouring a cup of tea from a metal urn on a trolley. ‘That’s totally not the look we’re going for.’

‘Sorry hun, no guitars. This is more like female One Direction.’

Maddy chewed on her fingernail. She wanted to say, ‘
I’m twenty-four, d’you know that?
’ but this was a crazy good opportunity and something most people would kill for.

‘Can’t you just do something by Rhianna or Katy Perry?’ Rollo was scrolling through his emails on his phone, clearly starting to bore of the situation.