Читать книгу The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime: The perfect feel-good Christmas romance! - Lynsey James - Страница 14

Chapter Five

If there’s one thing that causes an absolute nightmare for a die-hard Scrooge like myself, it has to be shopping for Christmas presents.

Yet that was exactly what I found myself doing the day after my encounter with Christabel. Mum dragged me to Fox’s to pick up some last-minute bits and pieces, which usually meant eight bags of stuff she’d had no intention of buying when she’d first walked in. The store was pretty dead, even for a Saturday, which made my heart sink. Gary’s revelation that the store was losing money was being proved correct.

‘You should really start doing your shopping in August like I do,’ she said as she pottered about a shelf with several crystal ornaments on it. ‘Saves so much time and trouble.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Mum, I’m an out-of-work actress; I don’t have to worry about saving time! If anything, I’ve got too bloody much of it. Talking of which, I bumped into Christabel at the Breakfast Club yesterday.’

Mum whipped her head round to look at me, as though I’d just told her I’d fought an entire pack of hungry crocodiles. ‘Really?! What did she say?’

‘Asked me if I fancied joining the pantomime,’ I replied with a roll of my eyes. ‘I would’ve said no way, but luckily Emily came in with Christabel’s breakfast. She didn’t mention it again after that.’

I watched my mum closely as she pretended to examine a crystal duck. I couldn’t see her face properly, but I knew her well enough to know when she was gearing up to say something important.

‘You know, I could just see you up on that stage wearing a beautiful ball gown and dancing with a handsome prince. You never know, some hunk might be playing Prince Charming!’

The jovial atmosphere vanished as we locked eyes after her light-hearted remark. I knew she was only making a typical motherly comment and I didn’t take offence, but I could tell she felt like she’d said something wrong.

‘Oh, love, I’m sorry. When I said a hunk, I didn’t—’

I put a hand up to stop her and shook my head. ‘Really, Mum, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

Two pops of colour bloomed on her cheeks and she took an even keener interest in the crystal duck than she had before.

‘What do you think about this for Aunt Carole?’ she said, holding it aloft so I could get a good look at it. ‘She’s got a hedgehog and a penguin already; I reckon she’d like this. I-I’ll see what else they’ve got.’

Changing the subject had always been a speciality of hers. She scurried off to peruse the rest of the ornaments before I could reply. Just then, a furious argument erupted nearby. I turned to see Mr Fox arguing with a younger man, who looked to be in his late twenties and was wearing a grey V-neck jumper and a pair of faded jeans. The more I looked at him, I realised that he was the moron who’d shoulder-barged me on my last day at Fox’s.

‘You can’t just turn your back on this, Ethan! You have responsibilities to think about. I won’t be around for ever and I want the family business to stay in the family! You’re my eldest son and it’s about time you started acting like it instead of wasting your time in America.’

The younger man, who I now knew to be called Ethan, rounded on his father, his face contorted with rage. His voice could almost be described as cut-glass, whereas his dad’s was an unmistakable Yorkshire brogue.

‘It may have escaped your notice, Dad, but I have a successful career and a life of my own back in the States! I’m sorry I’m not prepared to drop everything I’ve worked for to come and bail this place out, but what do you expect? And for your information, I’m not wasting my time. My last movie was nominated for a BAFTA, but I don’t suppose you care about that.’

A BAFTA eh? I looked at Ethan again and frowned; his face was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. I hadn’t been to the cinema much since Jamie had died, so I wasn’t up on many of the latest releases.

Ethan didn’t stick around to hear his father’s reply. Instead, he stormed out of the store. Or attempted to at least; he misjudged the revolving door and ended up being smacked in the face with it.

‘Argh! Fucking hell…’ He clutched his nose and I noticed blood spurting out of it and trickling down onto his jumper.

Mr Fox rushed to his side, but Ethan batted him away. The more his dad fussed, the angrier Ethan seemed to get. Another heated argument was going to erupt between them, by the looks of things.

‘Is there a first-aider around?’ I heard Mr Fox shout.

‘Dad, for God’s sake I’m fine!’ Ethan’s voice was thick and his face was now covered in blood.

What happened next came as a complete surprise. My feet started moving in their direction and I found myself walking over to them. I had no idea what the hell I was doing; I had loads of reasons for wanting to fly under the radar. But someone needed help and it looked like I was the only one around to give any.

‘Um…I-I’m a trained first-aider,’ I squeaked. ‘And I-I used to work here, so…’

Mr Fox jerked round to see where the sudden noise had come from and jumped when he saw me.

‘Oh yes, well, er, see what you can do for him then. There’s a first-aid kit in the canteen.’

Ethan rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Dad, you’re making a fuss over nothing. I’m—’

He took his hands away from his nose and instantly regretted it. Blood gushed everywhere and made an already bad situation even worse.

I cleared my throat, took a tissue out of my bag and handed it to Ethan. ‘Come on then, let’s get you patched up.’

We headed to the staff canteen, which was nestled in the leftmost pocket of the store. Rather than the usual cold, clinical atmosphere with peeling tiles and a microwave that didn’t work, Fox’s had made the effort to make their canteen as nice as possible. There was a pair of comfy, squishy brown leather sofas in the corner, a flat screen TV, a round table that didn’t wobble every five minutes and two huge American-style fridges for people to store their lunches in. Plus, a microwave that actually worked.

Ethan took a seat on one of the sofas while I fetched the first-aid kit. He kept his head dipped low, the now blood-soaked tissue pressed to it, and let out low groans of pain as I searched for the little green box. Eventually, I found it hiding behind the tea and coffee canisters.

‘Here it is!’ I yanked it out and brought it over to him, feeling more than a little squeamish at the thought of mopping up so much blood. ‘You’ll be back to normal in no time.’

I hoped I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt. My brain was currently screaming, what the hell have you got yourself into this time? and cursing me for offering my help in the first place. This wasn’t like me; I hated putting myself out there and having the spotlight on me. Yet that was what I’d done, thanks to my big mouth.

He mumbled something about getting a move on because he had stuff to do, before yelping in pain when he moved the wrong way.

‘Serves you right, ungrateful git,’ I muttered under my breath as I pulled on a pair of latex gloves before rooting round the box for some antiseptic wipes. When his eyes darted in my direction, I did the best fake smile I could. A couple of minutes and this would all be over. Then I could go back to being Anonymous Alice: the one who never got in anybody’s way, the one who kept herself to herself.

‘This might sting a bit,’ I said, ripping open one of the wipes, ‘but it’ll stop it from getting infected.’

Ethan gently prised his hands away from his face and allowed me to clean his bloody nose. When it stung, his hands flew up to protect his face.

‘OWWWW! Bloody hell, that hurts!’

I sighed and batted his hands away. ‘You know, the more you keep doing that the longer it’s going to take me to clean it and the more it’s going to hurt. Christ, you’re such a drama queen.’

Ethan didn’t say anything and sulked instead, a thunderous look clouding his features.

‘You know, this is quite funny really,’ I said with a grin. ‘You shoulder-barged me the other day and now I get to clean up your nose because you walked into a door!’

‘I’m sorry about the other day, but please forgive me if I don’t laugh right now.’ He gave a dry chuckle and his mouth twitched into a half-smile. ‘OWWW! Are you nearly finished with that?!’

‘Just about. God, anyone would think you’d never been smacked in the face by a revolving door before!’

I gave him a smile and he did his best to return it. ‘I have to admit…OWWW JESUS CHRIST…this is a first for me! Oh God, there’s not a scratch is there? Please don’t tell me there’s a scratch!’

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. ‘There’s a tiny scratch, but you can barely see it. Anyway, just keep still for a second while I finish cleaning it, then I’ll put a plaster on.’

His huge blue eyes widened with fear. ‘No, no, no you can’t put a plaster on my nose! I’ve got a really important audition today. I can’t go in looking like I’ve been in a fight.’

‘Well unfortunately you fought the revolving door and the door won.’ I chuckled and ripped open a plaster to put over the scratch he’d earned himself. ‘I’m sure the casting people will understand. If not, their loss and someone else can advertise their toothpaste or whatever.’

Ethan let out a hollow chuckle and ran his hands through his thick wavy brown hair. ‘It’s not an ad for toothpaste, it’s… It’s an audition to see if this luxury fashion house is going to make me the face of its menswear brand. They’re deciding between me and this other bloke and thanks to the revolving door, I think I’ve just handed it to him on a plate.’

I looked at him for a second. He definitely looked like the model type: angular, chiselled cheekbones and expressive eyes. I could just imagine him gracing billboards all over the world.

‘Oh I don’t know about that; this other guy might take a sudden allergic reaction to something and show up to the audition with a face the colour of rhubarb. Then you’ll have it in the bag!’ I stuck the plaster over the scratch and patted it down. I had to laugh; it was quite noticeable and made him look a bit ridiculous.

I was struck by how easy it was to talk to him. For the last three years, I’d barely spoken to anybody. Joining Fox’s and talking to the kids who came to the grotto every day had been my biggest steps into the outside world for so long.

‘Well, here’s hoping!’ Ethan said with a lopsided grin. He paused for a moment and turned to look at me. ‘Forgive me if this makes me sound like a complete prick, but… Do you know who I am?’

I frowned. ‘Um, no. Should I?’

He let out a deep, throaty chuckle and his face turned crimson. ‘Erm, I don’t know really! Do you know the name Ethan Fox?’

‘It rings a bell, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it. Sorry!’ I began to feel a little embarrassed myself, like “Ethan Fox” was a name I definitely should know.

‘Did you see the latest Pride and Prejudice remake at the cinema?’ he asked.

‘Nope, I don’t get to the cinema a lot. Were you in it?’

Ethan’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. ‘You could say that! I was Mr Darcy.’

Suddenly, a light bulb pinged on in my head. ‘That’s where I’ve heard your name! I heard some of the old dears at the Breakfast Club I go to talking about how fit you looked climbing out of the pond with your shirt on.’

He threw his head into his hands and laughed. ‘I think that scene’s going to follow me wherever I go! Tell them next time you see them that the pond was bloody freezing! Anyway, now that you know my name, why not tell me yours?’

I froze and felt my blood run cold in my veins. Talking to this guy for a few minutes while I patched him up was one thing, swapping things like names was quite another. Especially since he was apparently quite a famous actor.

‘Oh you don’t want to know my name really! Just forget about it.’

I got up and Ethan followed suit. ‘Come on, I can’t let you clean me up after I lose a fight with a revolving door without knowing your name!’

I blushed and busied myself with putting the first-aid equipment back where I’d found it. ‘Why would a guy who’s been in the latest Pride and Prejudice remake want to know my name? I haven’t been in any remakes, Jane Austen or otherwise.’

He folded his arms as he watched me buzz about the little kitchen area. I was trying to find something else to occupy my mind. ‘Strangely enough, that’s not on my list of criteria for wanting to get to know someone!’

‘And putting a plaster on your nose when a revolving door smacks you in the face is on the list, is it?’

‘Nope,’ said Ethan, ‘but I’m willing to add it if it means you’ll tell me your name.’

‘Fine,’ I said when no rebuttals immediately sprang to mind. ‘My name’s Alice. Alice Woods.’

I reluctantly stuck a hand out for him to shake. He clasped it in his bear claw for a moment then let it go.

‘Well, it was lovely meeting you, Alice Woods. Tell me, do you patch up clumsy actors with an appalling sense of spatial awareness very often? Because you’ve done a really good job on me!’

I giggled and mumbled out a reply that even I couldn’t understand. By the look on Ethan’s face, neither could he.

‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,’ he said, taking a couple of steps towards me.

‘I-I…I said no, not that I’m aware of. I usually fly under everyone’s radar, so I don’t find myself rubbing shoulders with actors very often.’

‘I find it hard to believe that you could fly under anyone’s radar.’ Ethan’s mouth dropped open as he realised what he’d just said and he took a great interest in the kitchen floor tiles. ‘S-sorry…didn’t mean it to come out like that… Unfortunately, I have to go and spectacularly fail my audition for this menswear campaign! Thanks for all your help.’

He smiled at me then walked out of the canteen. I watched his great hulking frame descend the metal staircase. For a supposedly famous actor, he’d been refreshingly down-to-earth, I thought. I made my own way down and was just in time to see Ethan head out through the revolving door – he approached it with a bit more care this time – to a sea of awaiting paparazzi. I heard the clamour of voices as they threw questions at him and the clicking of their huge cameras as they followed him down the street.

Mum came rushing up to me, still holding that crystal duck she liked so much. The grin on her face was wider than I’d seen it in a long time.

‘Do you know who that was?!’ Her voice trembled with barely contained glee.

‘Yeah,’ I said with a shrug, ‘he said his name was Ethan Fox.’

Her eyes widened and she began jumping up and down on the spot, almost dropping her precious crystal duck.

‘Oh my God, I loved him in that superhero film he did! Who did he play again, the one who can fly? Fancy getting to do first aid on a Hollywood megastar! What was he like? The tabloids say he’s a complete womaniser, but he doesn’t look like one to me. Trust me, a mum knows these things.’

I found myself smiling, although I wasn’t entirely sure why. Probably because my mum was one of the only middle-aged women who knew him from a superhero film instead of his Pride and Prejudice reboot.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘he actually wasn’t that bad.’

‘I don’t suppose he is.’ My mum paused and grinned. ‘Since he’s got you to smile for the first time in ages.’