Page 12 of Last Christmas in London

‘Sounds like a plan,’ I said, guiding her towards the dressing room, where her outfits awaited her.

‘After the lunch with the ghastly producer, what’s next?’

‘Facialist at three, manicurist at four, dinner with the Foxes at five, and a gathering with the Greys afterwards.’

‘Why am I so popular?’ she griped, her back to me as she began to disrobe. I returned to the living area, getting her bag and items for the day in order.

‘Because it’s Christmas, and everyone wants to see you. It’s been years since you last spent Christmas in London.’

‘I was here two summers ago.’

‘But not Christmas.’

Pim scoffed. ‘So they’re all trying to fit me into their festive calendars. Christ, it’s not like I’m dying, and they need to say their goodbyes.’

‘It will be lovely to catch up with so many friendly faces.’

‘Friendly? More like Botoxed faces.’ As if she hadn’t had Botox – I know she had, I booked the appointment. ‘What about the other task, the assistant hunt?’

I exhaled with relief; thank Christ she had brought it up herself! Any mention of it on my part and she would usually give me the silent treatment for a good hour before asking me to pass her jade roller or feed Gerald the Chow Chow.

‘The ad is live. I’ll meet the candidates next week.’

‘An ad? Ugh. Back in my day, assistants threw themselves at me.’

‘I must’ve been the cheapest,’ I quipped brazenly, earning a pointed glare before apologising, as Pim disappeared back behind the wardrobe door. ‘How are you doing in there?’ I called after a moment. She stepped out, a cloud of Chanel announcing her presence, dressed immaculately with red lipstick applied with the precision of a painter.

‘Doing? I’m doing fine,’ she sighed in a bored kind of way. ‘What time is the taxi?’ She looked at the clock on the wall: 9.15 now.

‘Not long. I’ve packed your bag.’

‘Did you pack my mints? Last time you forgot the mints.’ I hadn’t forgotten actually; they were just inside the zip pocket.

‘I triple-checked and they’re in there. The car is due at 9.20, so shall we head down shortly?’ Instead of moving to get her shoes or jacket on, she perched on the sofa, scrolling absently on her phone.

‘How was your night out?’ she asked.

‘It was great. I got to see my friend, Josh, and my sister, Megan. They’ve made me a Christmas bucket list before I move to Toronto. I’m shooting it for my Assistmas series on TikTok. We’re going to go ice skating, mulled wine, the works.’

‘How… fun,’ she said, her tone distracted. ‘I think they’re serving mulled wine at the event.’

‘Surely it’s Pimm’s?’ Suddenly panicking that the Southbank Centre hadn’t got the full plan from the producer and checking my emails. ‘Yes. See, it’s a free Pimm’s – or non-alcoholic version – upon entry.’ I tried to show Pim the phone, but she waved it away.

‘Well, they should serve mulled wine. It is Christmas, after all.’

‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ I whispered. The event was happening the day before Christmas, in three weeks’ time, when most of the city would be fleeing to the countryside to spend the holidays with family. Pim, of course, was staying at the Savoy, along with a small number of high-profile guests. I made a mental note to pick up some thank-you gifts for the staff on Pim’s behalf. They’d be working through the holidays, and I knew how hard that could be.

Despite having no blood family to spend the holidays with, it still wasn’t easy being away from Megan, Josh, Denise, and Bob on Christmas Day every year. There was always a moment – often more than one – where I would picture myself sipping prosecco, nibbling on turkey sandwiches, and laughing through game after game of Pictionary and Monopoly with them. But, invariably, every year I would push down the feeling and get on with my day, as if it were any other day. And with Pim, it always was the same day.

The phone began to ring on the dresser. ‘That’ll be Charles saying the car has arrived,’ I said, reaching for the phone.

‘Leave it. Let’s go!’ Pim huffed, suddenly grabbing my shoulder for support as she stepped into her heels before jolting for the door as if she had been the one to suggest it. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she called back.

I smiled and picked up her bag. ‘Nothing at all, Pim.’ Only a few more weeks, I reminded myself. Then I’d be my own boss again.

Chapter 4

Later that afternoon, after dropping Pim off for a Michelin-starred dinner with the Fox family dynasty, I headed to Holborn for a much cheaper meal with Josh.