Our taxi swerves up to the kerb and we bundle into the back seat, wedged either side of all the shopping bags. Sam turns to face me.
‘I know … ’ she starts, her eyes all sparkly. ‘Why don’t you bring him with you? I’d love to see him, and he kind of reminds me a bit of Dad. With him giving me away at the wedding and all.’
‘Aw, that’s really nice. He’ll be thrilled, I’m sure. Although, I think he has a girlfriend,’ I say, slowly. It feels weird saying it out loud.
‘Wow! Good for him, sly old fox.’ Sam claps her hands together, seemingly thrilled to hear of another new romance, quickly followed by, ‘What’s up? Don’t you like her?’
‘No, no, it’s not that, Nancy’s really nice, lovely and warm, and I want to be supportive, but it’s … well, I don’t know. He’s my dad, I suppose.’ I shrug.
‘And he’ll always be your dad,’ Sam says, softly. ‘But he’s a man too. You want him to be happy, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I nod. ‘But what about Mum?’
‘Georgie, she died a very long time ago. And it doesn’t mean he loved her any less. He’s still here and very much alive, and you being happy for him doesn’t diminish your mum’s memory.’
‘But sometimes it seems like only yesterday to me,’ I say, immediately feeling feeble. Sam’s dad died less than a year ago and she seems to be coping far better than I ever did.
‘And you were a child, you cared for her before she went, then you had to live with strangers who didn’t know her or miss her like you did. No wonder it’s still so raw, your whole world shattered and you had to deal with that pretty much on your own … ’ Sam says, as if reading my mind.
‘Some days I just miss her so very much.’
‘Of course you do, and I bet your dad does too. Nancy won’t ever replace your mum – and I bet she’s worried you might be thinking like this. Why don’t you talk to her?’
‘Oh no, I’ve only met her once, I couldn’t.’ I shake my head.
‘Well, talk to your dad then. I bet he’ll put your mind at rest.’
‘But what do you think I should say? I can’t just blurt out, “What about Mum?” I’ll sound like a silly little girl. I’m a grown woman – surely I shouldn’t feel this way, and it’s not just Nancy. It’s almost like I’m jealous that he has someone else in his life. After so many years apart, I want to be the important one. I want all his attention for myself. Do I sound ridiculously immature?’ I bite my bottom lip.
‘Don’t be silly. I was just the same. I always felt put out for a bit whenever Dad had a new girlfriend, but he was a ladies’ man; women flocked to him like moths to a lamp. I got used to it as I got older; in fact, I got quite close to a few of them, as you know.’
‘Yes, Ava. I remember her. Wasn’t she at your wedding?’
‘That’s right. And I truly believe she loved Dad. She adored him, made him happy and that made me feel happy.’ Silence follows. ‘Georgie, talk to him. It’ll make all the difference. I bet he’d be upset if he knew you felt this way.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, feeling a bit brighter about it.
‘Tell you what – next time you see him, ask if he wants to bring Nancy along too, for Christmas lunch. That can be your lead-in … ’
We’ve just polished off a delicious crispy duck stir-fry followed by crème brûlée, and I’m enjoying a large glass of mulled wine, when Sam reaches across the table to clutch my hand.
‘Don’t look now. But guess who I’ve just spotted at a window table in the far corner?’
‘Who?’ I ask, immediately desperate to know.
‘Only Zara!’ she makes big eyes.
‘But that’s impossible. She’s in New York. With Tom,’ I add, not wanting to be reminded of the fact.
‘Well, I’m telling you, it’s definitely her. She’s sitting with a group of Arabic-looking men, and that woman from the last episode, Princess something or another.’
‘Ameerah.’
‘That’s the one! Oooh, it looks very formal, they’re going through a pile of paperwork.’
‘Really?’ My mind is racing. What’s going on? My heart starts pounding, what if Tom is here too?
‘No idea, and now she’s pointing to something.’
‘Who is?’
‘The princess. Hang on.’
‘What are you doing?’ I say, keeping my voice low as Sam pushes her chair back and flings her napkin on the table.
‘Finding out what they’re up to, of course.’
‘Nooo, you can’t. What if they see you, they’ll think we’re spying,’ I whisper quickly, but it’s too late. Sam is off.
I sit for a few seconds, trying to take it in, before I risk swivelling round in my seat, to see what’s going on. And Sam was right – it’s definitely Zara! Right here. In Mulberry-On-Sea, and sitting mere metres away from me. My mind races, what’s going on? Why is she here? And what does this mean for me? And Tom? Sam is loitering by their table now, with her back to Zara. She ducks behind a giant shoji screen, presumably within listening distance – it’s right behind Princess Ameerah’s chair. I circle the bottom of my wine glass with an index finger; silently praying that Sam doesn’t get caught. What if Zara spots her and tells Kelly? She might sack her – well, not sack her as such, but she could make the board give Sam notice on the lease of the café or something, I suppose. And I wouldn’t put it past Sam to have a word with Zara, ask her what she’s playing at with Tom. She’s always been a loyal friend.
A few minutes later, and Sam is back. She has her shades on and her hair pulled around the sides of her face, attempting to look inconspicuous. She hunches down in her chair before leaning into me.
‘Sooo?’ I breathe, as she draws out the moment of revelation. She peers at me over the top of her shades, swivelling her eyes around like an undercover secret agent.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Sam pants, eventually.
‘Tell me. What’s going on?’ I ask, absolutely desperate to know.
‘The papers are floor plans for a hotel. They were talking about bedroom numbers, concierge services … stuff like that.’ Sam flaps her hand dismissively.
‘Ahh, that makes sense. They’re lining up the next show. Probably going to call it Kelly Cooper Room Service. I told you, didn’t I, that I overheard her talking about a hotel with underground parking?’
‘Yes, I remember. But that’s not all.’ And Sam’s face suddenly pales.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. But Eddie was right – Zara is up to something.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Georgie. I’m so sorry.’ Sam takes a gulp of air and glances downward to avoid eye contact.
‘What is it?’ I ask, the look on her face making me nervous now, scared even.
‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Her forehead creases with concern.
‘Yes. Please, what is it?’ I inhale sharply through my nostrils, desperate to quell the creeping sense of unease.
‘I need some of your wine first?’ she says, her voice tinged with panic.
‘Now you’re really scaring me,’ I say, placing my hand over the top of the glass.
‘One