Cupcakes at Carrington’s - Alexandra Brown

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not sure I can.’ Wincing, I lean forward and put the bottle down on a low table. Sam has the same idea and leans over too. The sudden shift in the weight on the cushion propels me forward and I’m launched mercilessly onto the little dance floor. The drink flies out of my hand, shoots up and splatters all over my face. I attempt to get up but just can’t bend enough. The floor is really slippery so I end up writhing around like an amateur contortionist. I try again to scrabble up onto my feet.

      Sam meanwhile has managed to get up and is now bent over in hysterics as she tries to pull me up. Her laughter is infectious, which just makes it worse as I beg her to stop. Within seconds, one of the models appears. He’s towering over me with a look of utter disgust on his pinched face.

      ‘Would you like some assistance?’ he drawls in an effeminate Aussie voice that completely belies his physical appearance. Feeling mortified, I shoo him away and manage to control myself a bit, but then start panicking. Tom is going to come back any second.

      ‘This is all your fault, plying me with cocktails. Get me up before I pee all over the place,’ I bellow over the music in Sam’s direction. I reach up to grab Sam’s hand and instantly feel like dying. Tom is standing right behind her. A quizzical grin smoulders across his chiselled face, and tucked in the crook of his beautiful elbow is an ice bucket. Four glasses are clutched in his left hand, and I wish I could just crawl away and evaporate somewhere quietly. It’s Nathan who moves forward from behind Tom, Sam, and the small crowd that’s now gathered around me. Bending down he scoops me up into a fireman’s lift over his shoulder and carries me over to the Ladies. I can see everybody staring and I feel hot with embarrassment.

      ‘There you go.’ Nathan lets me down.

      ‘Oh my God. Are you OK?’ Sam says. Her face is covered in concern as she elbows her way through from behind Nathan’s broad back. We push through the chrome door into the Ladies. ‘What’s that on your back?’ Sam asks worriedly, as she spins me around to inspect the bulge.

      ‘The bloody suit; the poppers have ripped off.’

      ‘Thank God it’s only that,’ she breathes. ‘For a moment I thought you’d broken something or an organ had popped out even,’ she says, dramatically. ‘Here.’ She rifles in her gold clutch and pulls out a massive safety pin. ‘For emergency purposes. It’ll have to do,’ she adds, after I look back at her with horror. Quickly realising that she’s right, I rush into a cubicle and sort myself out.

      Back out by the washbasins, I survey the damage. Mostly superficial, fortunately, despite my impromptu shimmy across the dance floor. With a wet hand towel, I dab the mascara lines away and then reapply some face powder, carefully blending as I go. Another coat of mascara and fresh lipstick and I’m ready. I take a deep breath, push my hair behind my ears and turn to Sam.

      ‘Come here,’ she says kindly, and I step forward. She puts her arms around me. ‘Will you be OK?’

      ‘I think so. Did you see the look on his face?’ I reply, cringing at the memory.

      ‘Yes, but you just hold your head up high and work it, baby. He’s reeeem,’ she says in her TOWIE accent to make me smile. ‘Go grab him.’

      ‘Hardly, after that pantomime performance.’

      ‘Oh so what.’ Sam shakes her hair back. ‘Men love a girl with a sense of humour, so just laugh it off. You look a billion dollars.’

      ‘Thanks, Sam. You’re a true friend, do you know that?’ I say, perking up and giving her a quick hug.

      ‘Well, I do my best. When I haven’t got my foot in my mouth of course,’ she grins, and then adds, ‘Georgie, look I’m really sorry about the other day, your dad and all. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

      ‘I know you didn’t,’ I say, patting her arm. ‘It’s forgotten,’ I finish, magnanimously, glad that we’ve cleared the air.

      ‘Actually, I was wondering …’ She peers at me.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘Err, I just wondered whether you’d spoken to him recently?’ she adds, nervously. I hesitate for a second.

      ‘Strange you should ask, because I slipped up and answered the phone …’ I reply, feeling uncomfortable. Sam gives me a look as though she’s unsure whether to say anything else. ‘Tell me?’ I prompt.

      ‘Oh nothing, I …’

      ‘Come on, please just say it.’

      ‘If you’re sure?’ she says warily.

      ‘Yes I’m sure. Now will you please just get on with it?’ I smile encouragingly.

      ‘Well, I was just thinking that it’s such a shame that you two can’t sort things out. Alfie means the world to me, he’s all I have, and I couldn’t bear it if he and I fell out,’ she says, sounding panicky. She looks away.

      ‘It’s OK, you’ve got me too, and Nathan … he seems really smitten, maybe he really is your “one”,’ I say, gently touching her arm, knowing how upset she gets about the prospect of being all alone. She looks back and manages a little smile.

      ‘But what if something happened to your dad? And you hadn’t resolved this? He made mistakes, I know, and you helped him out, there’s no denying that, but do you really want to punish him forever?’ I ponder on what she’s said, and for a moment I waver – maybe she has a point.

      ‘But it’s not that simple,’ I tell her.

      ‘What do you mean?’ Sam’s eyes widen.

      ‘What do you think it did to Mum? She was devastated. It was the stress of it all that made the multiple sclerosis develop so rapidly and cause complications. That’s why she died prematurely and I ended up in care …’ I say, in a wobbly voice, an image of Mum in the hospital bed flashing inside my head. Sam steps forward and gives me another hug.

      ‘Georgie I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that you still felt that way.’ She gives me a weak smile.

      ‘It’s OK. That’s just the way it is,’ I say, putting on a brave face to cover the hollow feeling inside.

      ‘But it doesn’t have to be. You could forgive him and set yourself free from hating him. It wasn’t your dad’s fault she died.’

      ‘Maybe.’ Silence follows. ‘Anyway, let’s go and enjoy ourselves,’ I say quickly, with a half-smile, desperate to shift the conversational focus.

      ‘OK, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.’ Sam gives my arm a little squeeze and turns to leave. I take a big deep breath, bracing myself to face Tom again.

      Nathan and Tom are sitting at the bar. They’ve already polished off half the bottle of wine. Nathan leaps down from his stool.

      ‘Here you are, lovely lady. Saving it especially for you,’ he says to Sam, and she bounces up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Tom pulls out another stool for me. My tummy flips. I sit down and cross my legs and promptly let out a little yelp. The safety pin must have popped open.

      ‘Hey, are you OK?’ Tom leaps off his stool and places a hand on my arm. His face is full of concern.

      ‘Yes, yes I’m fine,’ I manage to squeak, wincing with agony. I quickly uncross my legs and let out a discreet sigh of relief.

      ‘That was quite some floor show,’ he says, sitting back down and leaning towards me. I grin in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

      ‘Well, I aim to please,’ I say, remembering Sam’s advice to laugh it off. His presence, so close to me, is totally intoxicating, and I’m aware that I feel tingly all over.

      ‘So how long have you been working at Carrington’s?’ he asks, thoughtfully changing the subject. I take a sip of the cold wine and let the taste linger in my mouth. Waiting for me to answer, he smiles attentively –

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