Читать книгу The Perfect Christmas - Kate Forster, Kate Forster - Страница 6

Maggie Hall pushed open the door of her home, trying to balance the shopping bags from her trip into Beverly Hills. She could hear her husband, Will, bellowing from the study, the deep voice that had made him famous, along with his handsome face, was telling someone that he needed two rooms at a hotel.

Maggie dropped the bags of Christmas presents by the decorated fir tree in the foyer. The top of the tree nearly reached the second floor of the high ceilings, its gold star at the summit, perched at a peculiar angle.

The tree had been decorated by a ‘Holiday Consultant’, hired by Will, even though she had said she wanted something smaller, more personal, for their little family.

Elliot, her stepson, came out of the kitchen and rolled his eyes at Maggie. ‘Dad’s been yelling for at least ten minutes,’ he said.

Maggie reached out and pushed some of his dark hair away from the teenager’s eyes.

‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked.

Elliot looked down and scuffed his bare feet on the marble floor. ‘Same as ever, but not too bad.’

Maggie nodded and glanced at the tree.

Of all the things she wanted for Elliot this Christmas she wouldn’t give him any broken promises. Waiting on the donor list for a new heart wasn’t for the faint-hearted, she thought, not registering her unintended pun.

Every time the phone rang, she held her breath, wondering if someone else’s tragedy would be Elliot’s miracle.

‘Who is he yelling at?’ she asked as she moved towards the door of the study.

‘Zoe,’ Elliot said and went to the bags, trying to peek into them.

‘Step away from the bags,’ she threatened playfully as Will came into the foyer.

‘Hi,’ she said politely.

They had had a huge fight before she left the house, about Elliot of course, it was always about Elliot.

Will was always trying to control his son with his health, social life, what he ate and when he slept.

She knew she didn’t have to be Doctor Phil to understand that this was his way of trying to control the illness, but it meant that Elliot was given no freedom, not even to see his friends for a weekend away, which was the topic of their argument.

‘Elliot and I are going to Mexico for Christmas,’ he said, walking past her and ignoring her greeting.

‘What? Why?’ asked Maggie. ‘I don’t want to spend Christmas in Mexico.’

‘I didn’t ask if you did,’ said Will, as he opened the refrigerator door. Their housekeeper, Dolores, stepped into the kitchen and fled at the sight of Will, not that Maggie blamed her one little bit.

‘You’re planning on spending Christmas without me?’ she asked, trying to understand.

‘I think we need some time apart,’ he said, taking a bottle of water and opening it forcefully, small drops spilling onto the floor.

‘It was just a fight, Will, we should be together.’

Will took a long sip and then put the water on the bench.

‘I want to spend some time with my son,’ he said, staring daggers at her.

Our son, she wanted to remind him. She had been Elliot’s stepmother for eight years and she was more of a mother than his own biological mother had been, abandoning him for a guru in India when Elliot was diagnosed with a rare heart disease.

Maggie felt tears well in her eyes. ‘I don’t think you mean that, I think you’re just trying to hurt me,’ she said calmly.

‘I don’t care what you think. I’m going to Mexico early, before the shoot, to spend some time with El, and he will stay with me while I shoot the film.’

‘But that’s for six weeks, he can’t be away for six weeks,’ she cried.

‘Why not? I’ve spoken to his doctors, they said he was fine to fly and I can take all his equipment with us. It’s not a backwater.’

‘But what about me? What about my Christmas?’ she said, feeling a teardrop fall, joining the spills of water on the floor.

‘I don’t give a crap about your Christmas, Maggie, you need to think about what I want and what Elliot wants for a change.’

Maggie turned to ask Elliot but he, like the housekeeper, had scurried away from Will’s firing line.

‘He doesn’t want to spend it in Mexico, having you control every single aspect of his day.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Will as he moved towards the door. ‘We’re leaving tonight.’

Maggie watched him leave the room, knowing it was useless to try and change his mind. Then she took a dishcloth from the sink and wiped up the watery mess he had left between them on the floor.

***

Pulling up at the front of a quietly stylish house, with the night lighting showing off the lush tropical plants, Maggie dialed a number from her car.

‘Zo, it’s me, let me in, I’m out the front,’ she said, trying to steady her voice.

The sound of the automatic garage door started and, as it lifted, Maggie inched her car towards the house’s sanctuary.

When she was finally inside, parked next to Zoe’s BMW, and the door was safely down behind her, she let out a long breath of relief.

The sound of tapping on the glass window made her jump.

‘God, woman, I’m already on my last nerve,’ she said as she got out of the car.

Zoe smiled, ‘You’re always on your last nerve,’ she said, ‘You’re the most impatient person I know.’

Maggie hugged her best friend and manager.

‘What’s up?’ asked Zoe as they walked inside the house.

‘I haven’t seen you in ages.’

‘I know, I know,’ sighed Maggie. ‘Things at home have been horrible. I haven’t seen you, I haven’t seen anyone.’

Zoe walked into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine.

‘Espresso?’ she asked.

‘If I have any more adrenalin in my system, I’m going to go through the roof,’ Maggie said as she draped herself over Zoe’s sofa and put a pillow over her face. ‘I’m so goddamned angry!’

‘What’s happened?’ asked Zoe.

Maggie pulled the pillow away and sat up, ‘Will. And don’t tell me you don’t know, I heard him yelling at you today,’ she moaned.

Zoe sat on the chair opposite her friend.

‘How is Elliot?’

Maggie felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘He’s sick and he needs his mother but she’s in India, chanting in an ashram and, as Will reminded me when I walked out, I’m only his stepmother and they don’t count for shit.’

‘He can be a cruel bastard sometimes.’

‘Not having Christmas with Elliot makes me want to cry,’ Maggie sighed as Zoe reached out and rubbed her leg.

‘Elliot knows how much you love him,’ she said.

‘And that’s what makes Will’s cruelty so harsh. He knows I love Elliot like my own.’

Silence filled Zoe’s living room.

‘I wish I could have told him to organize his own stupid trip to Mexico but he’s my client, I have to do what he asks even if it hurts my friend.’

Maggie nodded and then grabbed Zoe’s hands with hers.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a crappy friend,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you in, what? Two months? It’s just been diabolical in my world. I haven’t had anything good to say, so I’ve stayed away. I don’t think we’re going to make it. I don’t think I want to be married to him anymore. Do you think I’m being weak?’

Zoe squeezed her hands in return.

‘Of all the things you are, Mags, weak isn’t one of them. You’re the bravest and most loving person I know,’ she said and Maggie knew she meant it. In a town of false promises and empty compliments, Maggie could always rely on her oldest friend to tell the truth.

‘What are you doing this Christmas?’ asked Maggie forlornly. She was now wearing the pillow as a hat and Zoe laughed as she looked at her friend.

‘I have a few parties I’ve been invited to and a couple of clients have invited me to their Christmas lunches,’ said Zoe vaguely and Maggie frowned.

‘Weren’t you going to come to ours?’

Zoe paused, ‘Honestly? I couldn’t bear the tension in your house, I mean, Will isn’t the most congenial of hosts.’

Maggie closed her eyes, ‘You wanna try living there.’

She put the pillow over her face again for a moment, before sitting up as though waking from a nightmare.

‘I have an idea.’

‘God help me,’ said Zoe.

‘No, seriously, it’s a good one,’ Maggie was now on the edge of her seat. ‘How about we go to London and escape from all this madness?’

‘Your madness,’ Zoe reminded her. ‘I have plans to drink champagne and talk business over roasted turkey with power players who are wearing paper hats.’

Maggie was now out of her seat, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa.

‘No, that’s a terrible idea. You’re always working. Even when you think you’re relaxing, you’re working. I need to get away so I can think straight about what to do with my marriage, and you need to get away and remember how not to work for a while.’

Maggie was warming to her own idea with each word.

‘Think about it. In London we can roam around all their gorgeous high streets or whatever they call them, drink ourselves to oblivion in shadowy pubs, buy lovely things for ourselves and each other, look at the Christmas lights, watch the snow fall. Be generally English and cultured and immerse ourselves in the place.’

Zoe was laughing. ‘You’ve watched The Holiday too many times.’

Maggie got up and looked out of the window into the flood-lit garden. ‘No. Well, maybe. But I just want to do something different. God knows, what I’m doing now isn’t working.’ She turned round, feeling her eyes fill with tears. ‘We are each other’s family, Zoe, we don’t have anyone else; no parents, no siblings, only us. If we don’t celebrate our friendship then we don’t deserve each other.’

Zoe nodded slowly, ‘But why England?’

Maggie shrugged, ‘I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s full of tradition and here it’s just about business. You know, last Christmas Will took a production meeting with Jeff Beerman after Christmas lunch. ’

Zoe shook her head. ‘Jeff’s Jewish, so Christmas isn’t his thing and he’s a studio head who is a workaholic, but Will should have known better.’

‘I know, right?’ Maggie was sitting down again, holding the pillow to her chest. ‘Can we go? Will you come? Please?’

‘You sound about twelve,’ said Zoe good-naturedly.

‘Then I can’t go to London alone, I will need a chaperone,’ said Maggie with a smile and Zoe shook her head.

‘Okay, little Miss Christmas, let’s go to London.’

***

Over the years of Zoe Greene pushing Maggie Hall to the heights of Hollywood, Maggie had learned that almost everyone was ambitious, that most people in LA would sell their grandmothers for a good deal and that true friendship was rarer than an actress over forty without Botox.

Maggie was brave, Zoe was smart and somehow they were the perfect balance. Zoe could hear Maggie in the next room, talking to her assistant on the phone. Maggie made a point of not using Zoe as a PA, but as a business manager.

No doubt Maggie would have them on a plane in a heartbeat and Zoe would be whisked away to the land of pints and pubs, and Maggie would spend the entire trip practicing her cockney accent.

Zoe had so much work to do this Christmas. There were new clients with careers that needed careful guidance, existing clients who needed her advice in all areas of their life, and there was her busy office to keep running. A trip to London wasn’t something she had time for but Maggie was hard to say no to and, sometimes, friendship came before work.

If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she had avoided Maggie as much as Maggie had avoided the world for the past few months.

Being the manager of both Will and Maggie had the potential to create a conflict of interest and, with a separation on the cards, she had tried to stay out of the whole matter.

But Maggie needed her and she couldn’t bear the thought of her spending Christmas alone in their huge house.

For years Zoe had indulged Maggie and her whims. Not because she was her biggest client, a well-loved movie star who commanded millions of dollars per picture, but because she’d saved her from the worst experience in her life and, for that, she would always be grateful.

‘We’re all sorted,’ Maggie exclaimed in her worst Eliza Doolittle accent, ‘We’re going to Ol’ Blighty.’

‘I’m not going anywhere if you talk like that, you sound deranged,’ Zoe said, putting her feet on the coffee table.

‘Spoilsport,’ said Maggie cheerfully. ‘We leave tomorrow, first class. I’ve booked us a suite at The Dorchester.’

‘Jesus, you don’t give a woman much notice,’ said Zoe, thinking of everything she would have to pack for the cold weather, and the work she would have to load onto her laptop to make sure she was ready to return to the office up to date and ahead of the rest.

‘If you don’t remember it, you can buy it there,’ said Maggie with a sweep of her arms, ‘It’s London, the best city in the world to shop at Christmas time.’

***

The trip to London was the best thing she had ever thought of, she decided as she and Zoe boarded the plane. Will and Elliot had left by the time she returned from Zoe’s house, her presents for them both were still in the shopping bags by the Christmas tree.

The hurt was somewhat eased by the first-class lounge, she told Zoe as she sipped her glass of Dom Pérignon.

‘I’m going to enjoy this little vacation,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘I’ve worked hard and I’m going to do it in style. This whole week is on me, Zo, and don’t even think of arguing. I’m not the second highest-paid actress in the world right now for nothing.’

‘I’m not even going to argue with you,’ said Zoe, laughing as she clinked glasses with Maggie.

‘You know,’ Maggie whispered leaning forward, ‘I like being rich.’

Zoe snorted champagne and started to laugh and cough simultaneously.

‘I’m serious. I’ve been poor, actually, what’s below poor? Well, I’ve been that and now I’m not, and it’s a much better place to be.’

Zoe nodded with mutual understanding. ‘As Grammy used to say, “Being poor ain’t never did nobody any favours”.’

Zoe’s phone rang and she picked it up and looked at the screen.

‘I thought you were on holiday,’ complained Maggie.

‘I am, as soon as the plane takes off,’ said Zoe as she answered the call and immediately launched into negotiations about a film deal.

Maggie sat back and sipped her champagne, taking in the luxurious lounge. She recognized a few faces but they ignored her, as she did them. Celebrity and wealth gave you a little privacy, at least in a place like the first-class lounge; nearly everyone wanted to be left alone and to enjoy the experience.

Zoe finished her call and pulled her laptop from her tote bag.

‘Are you serious?’ asked Maggie, eyeing the laptop as though it was the enemy.

‘One email, I promise,’ said Zoe as she opened the lid and then started rapid-fire typing.

‘Excuse me, Ms Hall, Ms Greene, your flight is now boarding,’ said an attendant who was as well groomed as any supermodel Maggie had ever seen.

‘Let’s hustle, Miss Worky Workalot,’ Maggie said as she drained the champagne and picked up her handbag.

Zoe snapped the lid shut and sighed. ‘I’ll finish it on the plane,’ she said as she followed Maggie and the stewardess to the boarding area and then onto the plane.

Flying was something Maggie adored. She loved the order and the little meal trays and the opportunity to watch films or TV shows she would never otherwise indulge in. But flying first class was something else again.

‘Your suite is here,’ said the stewardess. ‘And yours is across the aisle,’ she gestured to Zoe.

Maggie clapped her hands and passed her coat to the stewardess. ‘Do you mind hanging this up for me?’

The stewardess nodded politely.

Maggie leaned into her and whispered conspiratorially, ‘You know, I always get so excited when I fly first, I never, ever take it for granted. When I was a kid, I really wanted your job; it’s so glamorous.’

The stewardess beamed, ‘I’m more than happy to swap jobs now,’ she giggled as she went to hang up Maggie’s coat.

‘God, everyone loves you,’ Zoe said as she sank into her chair.

‘Except Will,’ said Maggie, a cloud coming over her.

Zoe looked up from the computer. ‘None of that, you told me you were going to enjoy yourself.’

Maggie nodded as she accepted a glass of champagne from a silver tray that a steward was offering. ‘Yes, you’re right, excuse my moment of attending my pity party for one, I’m back now,’ she said firmly.

‘Good,’ said Zoe, taking a glass for herself and raising it to Maggie.

‘To London.’

‘To London,’ said Maggie in return, absolutely determined to enjoy herself.

***

The terminal at Heathrow was manic and Maggie felt overwhelmed at the sight of so many people and the paparazzi training their lenses on her.

‘I thought we might have avoided this,’ muttered Maggie as she pushed her luggage on a trolley and considered putting on her sunglasses to stop being blinded by the camera flashes.

‘Fat chance,’ said Zoe. ‘Sadly, I think the media here are more relentless than the ones back home. The airline staff tip off the media as to who is on their flights.’

‘Bastards!’ hissed Maggie.

The yelling and questions came at her like bullets.

‘Why aren’t you spending Christmas with Will?’

‘Have you left Will?’

‘Are you having an affair?’

‘Are you and Zoe lesbians?’

Maggie started to laugh as they got to the waiting car, sent from the hotel, and she and Zoe slipped inside onto the leather seats.

‘If I was a lesbian, I’d totally buy you a drink,’ she said to Zoe.

‘And if I was a lesbian, I’d dump your sorry ass, I don’t date actresses,’ quipped Zoe.

As the car pulled away, leaving the flashing cameras in the distance, Maggie leaned back on her seat.

‘That was stressful,’ she sighed.

Zoe was flicking through her phone, then typing furiously.

‘Don’t worry, Victoria Beckham or the Jolie-Pitts will land and you’ll be all but forgotten.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ said Maggie half-jokingly as Zoe typed and swiped and sighed at whatever was on her screen.

Maggie watched her for a while. ‘You’re a shit life partner, you’re married to your work, not me,’ she said jokingly.

Zoe shrugged, ‘This is why I’m alone, there isn’t a man in LA who can keep up or put up with my pace.’

Maggie nodded. ‘I hear you.’

The car drove into the city centre and Maggie watched the evening lights start to flicker on, the Christmas lights twinkling and people hurrying home from work in the encroaching darkness.

‘God, I love this city,’ she said to herself. Maggie had spent some time in London, usually on a press junket and once filming, but never just for her own pleasure.

Driving over the Westminster Bridge, Big Ben struck six and Maggie thought she might cry with happiness.

‘Now all I need is Peter and the Darling children to fly over us and I will be in heaven,’ she said as she turned to Zoe.

But Zoe was now on the phone and Maggie tried very hard not to be upset.

‘You’re missing it,’ she hissed to Zoe, who waved her hand at her as though she was a fly.

Maggie ignored her and went back to looking at the passing entertainment. So many different people, all looking like they had something to go home to, and Maggie put her hand up against the cold glass of the window.

What did she have to return to after this trip? she wondered.

The car pulled up in front of the hotel and the driver jumped from it as a valet opened the door.

‘Welcome to The Dorchester,’ he said with a polite smile.

‘Hi,’ said Maggie as she shivered in her thin coat. ‘God, it’s freezing! Is it going to snow?’ she asked him.

‘There is snow predicted,’ he said and Maggie grabbed Zoe’s arm.

‘Snow, did you hear that? Snow is predicted.’

‘You hate the snow,’ said Zoe, shaking her head.

‘I hate American snow, I love British snow,’ corrected Maggie, as she stepped inside the hotel.

A young brunette woman in a neat navy suit was smiling at them, her hands clasped in front of her.

‘Good evening, I’m Holly. I’m your personal concierge while you stay with us,’ she said.

Maggie picked up just a hint of nerves in the pretty girl’s voice. ‘Holly? What a perfect Christmas name,’ she said. ‘I’m Maggie and this is Zoe.’

The girl smiled. This time she was clearly less nervous, Maggie noted.

Zoe smiled and shook the girl’s hand. ‘Can you get me a cord adaptor for my laptop?’

‘Of course,’ said Holly and Maggie felt like punching Zoe in the arm.

Holly gestured to a bellboy who had their luggage on a rack in the blink of an eye.

‘Let me take you to your room,’ she said as she led them to a private elevator. ‘What are your plans while you’re in London?’ She pressed a button and swiped the security screen with a tag attached to the inside of her jacket.

‘Shopping, shopping, maybe some sightseeing. I don’t know, what should we do?’ asked Maggie.

‘So this trip is just for pleasure, no business?’ asked Holly.

‘Just pleasure,’ said Maggie firmly and glared at Zoe, who rolled her eyes in retort.

‘Then I can suggest some activities for you,’ said Holly, ‘And I can make all the arrangements.’

‘That sounds fantastic,’ said Maggie as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the suite.

Even Zoe was silent as she took in the elegant surroundings of the room. The plush rugs, the wingbacked chairs, draped curtains, flower-filled vases on almost every surface…

‘We have taken the liberty of upgrading you both, since it’s Christmas and you’re VIP guests.’

‘Thank you!’ said Maggie and Zoe simultaneously.

‘Have you plans for dinner?’ asked Holly. ‘Would you like me to make some recommendations for local restaurants? Or I could organize you some room service? Or make you a reservation at one of the restaurants downstairs?’

Maggie looked at Zoe. ‘I’m hungry, are you? Shall we go downstairs?’

Zoe nodded, ‘Yes, I need a steak and a glass of red.’

‘Let me organize that for you, then I can unpack your luggage if you wish,’ Holly offered.

‘I wish,’ said Zoe. ‘Thank you, that would be great.’

***

Less than ten minutes later, the women were ensconced in a small booth in a corner of The Grill.

Zoe was already nursing a lovely glass of Shiraz and Maggie was having a vodka, lime and soda.

‘Okay, I have to admit, sitting here while our things are being unpacked is very civilized,’ said Zoe.

‘It’s a funny job for a young girl to have, isn’t it?’ Maggie ran her finger around the condensation of the glass.

Zoe shrugged. ‘You mean Holly? I don’t know, maybe she plans to work her way up and become a personal assistant to a royal or something. I’m sure Kate Middleton doesn’t unpack her own bags.’

‘Maybe,’ said Maggie, as she watched the people in the restaurant engrossed in conversation. Well-dressed men and women entered, their faces flushed red from the cold, taking off expensive coats and gloves and ordering decadent meals and bottles of wine.

The hum of conversation and laughter tickled the back of Maggie’s neck. ‘Isn’t it all so gorgeous?’ she asked as she smiled at Zoe.

Zoe laughed. ‘Of course it’s gorgeous. You’re in one of the best hotels in London, watching beautiful people without a care in the world. What’s not gorgeous about that?’

‘Bah humbug,’ said Maggie, as a waiter came to their table.

‘Good evening, have you decided on the menu?’ he asked.

Maggie hadn’t, but handed it back to him.

‘A green salad, some balsamic on the side please,’ she said.

Zoe handed him her menu. ‘Steak, medium rare, fries and a salad,’ she said.

‘I’m jealous,’ said Maggie.

‘Then eat,’ said Zoe, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy everything London has to offer.’

‘Yes, but then it will take weeks to get off London’s offerings in spin classes and juice cleanses.’

Maggie sighed. Being thin wasn’t something that just happened, it required work and discipline and saying no to delicious things like fries and red wine.

They chatted amiably over their meals, Maggie managing to only steal a few fries from Zoe’s plate.

As they wandered back to their suite, they saw Holly behind the front desk, talking to a man in a suit.

‘She’s blushing when she talks to him,’ whispered Maggie.

‘Maybe they’re having an office romance,’ said Zoe, glancing at them and then back to her phone.

‘He’s cute,’ said Maggie as she pulled Zoe by the arm over to the desk.

‘What are you doing?’ whispered Zoe.

But Maggie wasn’t listening.

‘Holly, I just wanted to mention how delicious dinner was and thank you for organizing the table so quickly.’ Maggie leaned on the front desk and put her hand out to the man.

‘Hi, I’m Maggie Hall,’ she said and read his name badge. ‘Jack Frost? You’re the manager? You’re kidding, right?’ she started to laugh as he took her hand.

‘No I’m afraid not, it’s my name,’ he said politely, but Maggie saw a twinkle of humour in his eyes.

‘Holly has done a great job of welcoming us to your beautiful hotel,’ said Maggie as Holly’s blush deepened.

‘That’s excellent,’ said Jack and even Zoe noticed the way he looked at the young woman.

‘Can I do anything for you this evening?’ Holly asked.

Maggie smiled. ‘Maybe you can come and draw a bath for me? I’m jet-lagged, I think.’

‘Of course,’ said Holly.

Maggie and Zoe went on up to their suite.

‘Draw you a bath?’ laughed Zoe as they got into the elevator. ‘Since when do you use the term “draw a bath”, and why can’t you turn on your own taps?’