Free Christmas at Claridge's by Karen Swan Page B

her get away with that,
Tom?’
    Tom looked away, his open face horribly closed, pinched and grey. He did look angry, although whether it was due to Clover’s bold assertions or the fact that his sister and girlfriend were
at each other’s throats again, she couldn’t be sure. ‘Clem, I . . . we’re just looking. Nothing’s set in stone yet. It’s just one option that I’m looking
into, that’s all. If it means I can keep the company going and we can all keep our jobs, then I have an obligation to look into it properly.’
    ‘But either way,
I’m
shafted. Whichever way you look at it, I’m going to lose either my job or my home, right?’ Clem sank dramatically back down onto the bed,
her head in her hands.
    There was a long pause before Tom could find his voice. ‘As things stand at the moment, yes, that’s pretty much the sum of it,’ he said quietly. His eyes met hers, and Clem
almost burst into tears at the sorrow she saw in them. She immediately wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him it was all going to be OK, that they’d get through it together,
just like they always had. If they could survive being locked in old Mrs Gantry’s shed for three hours that time when they’d climbed over the wall to retrieve a football, then they
could survive anything. But she couldn’t, not with Clover lying in the bed next to him, her skinny ankle casually hooked around his leg.
    Clover allowed herself a long sip of tea. ‘I don’t know why you’re so surprised, Clem,’ she said calmly and intrusively. ‘You surely must have understood better
than anyone that there would have to be some hard decisions taken after the Perignard and Bugatti deals were lost.’
    Clem felt the pain of Clover’s words hit home. Clover was a bitch to say it, but it didn’t stop her being right.
    Shambles gave a loud and sudden squawk that made the others jump, and Clover dived for cover under the duvet as the parrot swooped of the bamboo ladder that doubled up as Tom’s clothes
horse, and came to perch on Clem’s shoulder, rubbing her beak like she was polishing it in Clem’s hair, before taking a loving nip of Clem’s earlobe.
    Clem didn’t holler in response like she usually did, though. She barely even registered it. Instead, she slowly climbed of the bed and lowered her shoulder to the open door of
Shambles’ cage, whereupon the bird walked in with particular dignity, her long red tail feathers sweeping behind her like taffeta ballgown skirts.
    Clem tried to do the same as she turned on her heel, but it was a hard look to pull off with ketchup on her chin, and she’d only just rounded the corner when the tears blinded her way and
she had to hold the wall for support.
    ‘Shit, Clem . . .’ Tom called after her, and Clem heard the bed creak as he moved to follow her. ‘What did you have to say that for, Clo? It’s not like she doesn’t
know . . .’
    ‘No, Tom,’ she heard Clover say to him in a low voice. ‘I’ve told her the truth, that’s all. She’s just sulking because she wants to be a Portobello Girl all
her life. She’s spoilt, that’s her problem. You and your parents have indulged her for too long. You’re the one who’s got to leave the area altogether to release enough
money to plough straight back into the company, keeping her job going when this whole sorry mess has come about because of
her
recklessness.’
    ‘That’s not strictly true, Clo. I should never have invested so much before we signed contracts—’
    ‘If she hadn’t ruined the bike, you would have headlined Berlin and won the Bugatti account. True or false?’
    There was a reluctant silence. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Tom muttered eventually, although his voice sounded strange.
    ‘I am, Tom-Tom, you know I am. And who knows, maybe this will be the best thing that ever happened to her? You’re not doing her any favours shielding her from the consequences of her
own actions, you know. It’s high