The Christmas Bookshop(70)

And she hung up, even as Oke was looking at her, his face hurt and confused, and stalked off, back the way she came.





The shouting crowds of the fair felt irritating now as Carmen pushed her way through them, her head a mess.

Blair was ridiculous. Of course he was. But he was … She felt underneath all the nonsense he was funny and cynical and she couldn’t help finding him attractive. Oke was attractive – of course he was – but Blair was a man of the world, had been everywhere, had met everyone, was famous – and was still texting her. She couldn’t deny it was flattering and appealing and she remembered his cold hand on her waist …

Oke was nice. Definitely nice. But he was seeing someone else anyway; he was just making a habit of acquiring shop girls as he went on.

Oh, but she had liked him. She had liked him a lot. But he belonged to someone else. Story of her life.

But Blair … he had what everyone else had round here. Money and a career and he knew what he was doing and where his life was heading. Okay, he was a doof but … God, it would be nice to have a bit of that. When everyone else in the world (she was still getting very jolly messages from Idra) seemed to have their shit together but poor old Carmen. It was all right to want that, wasn’t it?

Carmen sighed. Christmas was getting to her, she could tell. There was something about the magical pull of this town, the swirl of snowflakes that was sending her – argh – completely mad. She had nearly kissed a near-total stranger.

Mind you.

Her phone kept buzzing.

She allowed herself, just for a moment, to imagine what it would be like: the sun streaming through the hotel bedroom window, the crisp white sheets, the fruit plate. She wasn’t exactly sure what a fruit plate was but it sounded like something she should probably order.

What would it be like being Blair’s girlfriend? Well, he lived in London, but he went to LA for work, and maybe the sun would stream over her face and she’d be in his arms and he’d ask her what she felt like doing that day – pool first, or a walk hand in hand on the beach? Or possibly rollerblading? She frowned as she crossed the road towards the lights at the Caledonian Hotel. She didn’t actually want to go rollerblading at all. This fantasy had got completely out of hand.

‘Hey babe, how’s it going? Are you in the shower?’

‘There’s a snow shower,’ she texted back. ‘Not sure that’s the same thing.’

‘Hey, give me your email. I got something for you.’

Carmen did so, and couldn’t help a bit of her thinking, Goodness, what if it was plane tickets for the next time he went to LA?



The email finally came through.

She looked around the busy shop as her phone pinged. Although, funnily enough, if a month ago she would have said that the only thing she wanted was a famous handsome rich man to whisk her off somewhere sunny, now, as she looked round, she found herself thinking, well, she couldn’t leave the shop in the lurch this close to Christmas. At that moment, Mr McCredie was trying to help a woman who wanted several expensive guides to Edinburgh gift-wrapped and had managed to stick a piece of Sellotape to his whiskers. She went over to help, waiting and wondering what the email was going to be.

At first, it didn’t make any sense; it was an attachment.

‘You do stories in the shop, right? For kids?’

Carmen’s heart sank a little; there was only one way he could have known this and it wasn’t from her.

‘I’m going to do a kids’ Christmas book for next Christmas. Get some decent artist in, takes me five minutes, big picture of me on the front, sorted. Money for nothing.’

She finished. He wanted her to read it out to the children at story time, and for there to be a video of his book in a proper shop to pitch for the publishers.

‘Show the kids loving it. Brilliant.’

It was called The Mindful Christmas. Carmen frowned.

‘Am also pitching it tomorrow for a film series, so get back to me ASAP. Nobody will be interested in January.’



Her heart dropped. Oh for goodness’ sake, Blair. Couldn’t he have pretended for five solid minutes that it was her he wanted, and not something that would only benefit him? She’d gone to bed listening to the children babble about their amazing day down the phone to their father, thinking, Well, stupid Oke might have another girlfriend but hey – a super-famous guy likes me so at least there was that.

But of course there wasn’t.

Carmen sighed.

Although, she supposed, it might help, of course. Push them over the line. Get lots more punters in, generate a bit of publicity. Every little helped.

She messaged Sofia, asking her to announce it on that terrifying mothers’ grapevine she had, and sighed. Maybe it would be a huge success and he’d give interviews announcing, ‘Oh, I couldn’t have done it without my Carmen.’

Maybe.



After lunch, the very tall posh book rep, Ramsay, came in.

‘Hello!’ he said, smiling at Carmen, who was still deep in thought and had been too scared to ask Skylar if she’d heard from Blair the previous evening. ‘Wow, I can’t believe the difference you’ve made to this place!’ He glanced back. Outside were two small boys, gripped in fascination by the train set.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Inset day. I had to bring them – baby Hugh is teething and Zoe is up to her eyeballs. They’ve been an absolute pain in the neck all the way down if that helps.’