Miracle on Regent Street Read Free Page B

love-at-first-sight story is folklore in our house – not to mention at the store. Even now the older members of staff still talk about the beautiful blonde beauty therapist who met
her very own Prince Charming within these sacred walls. I’ve often quizzed my father about what it was that made him act so out of character on that day. As a successful financier he’s
by nature incredibly considered and not at all spontaneous. He always gives the same reply: ‘If you see something you want, you have to go for it, Eve,’ he’ll say. ‘You
won’t get anywhere in this life otherwise.’ Sometimes I wish some of his single-mindedness had rubbed off on me.
    So you could say that it’s thanks to my parents’ love affair that I’ve had my own love affair with Hardy’s and ended up working here for so long. Although sometimes I
can’t help but wonder what might have been. I love the place and there’s no other store I’d rather work in, but when I was a little girl imagining what I’d be one day, the
answer was never a stockroom manager. I wanted to be an artist or a fashion designer or a window dresser. I spent my childhood doing endless sketches of shop displays on the notepads I carried
everywhere with me. I pored over glossy coffee-table books, and trawled shops and markets for vintage clothes that looked like the ones I imagined people wearing back when fashion meant enduring
style. After doing a degree at art college I even got a place on a graduate training scheme in fashion merchandising in London. I was all set to go when I met Jamie at the Norfolk hotel where
I’d been working all summer. It didn’t take much on his part to convince me to stay. I was twenty-one, he was my first real boyfriend and I was in love. And I’d had my
parents’ romantic meeting as my inspiration my entire life. Mum had immediately given up her career for lasting love; is it any wonder that I was so quick to do the same? It felt like my
destiny. I didn’t expect or want anything more for myself.
    Mum’s always said that of her children I am the one most like her. I think this means I am the one most likely to make sacrifices for love. I can’t think what else we have in common
– Delilah inherited Mum’s show-stopping beauty – but Mum’s always had this romantic notion that my life will mirror hers. So when Jamie broke up with me not only was I
utterly heartbroken, I felt like I’d disappointed her too. After all, we’d been together five years and she was all set for a wedding and more grandchildren. Unable to deal with her
incessant but well-meant probing and mollycoddling, I realized that I needed space away from the life I’d had.
    So I packed a small suitcase and went to London to stay with my sister, who was then on maternity leave. After a week of weeping and wailing on her shoulder and generally being a mess because I
was twenty-six and had nothing to show for my life – no career, no boyfriend and what felt like no future – she told me firmly to get out of the house and face the world. I was shocked
into action. So I had a shower, got dressed, brushed my hair and headed to Hardy’s, the only other place that had ever felt like home.
    I spent the morning wandering sadly around its hallowed halls and reminiscing. It had been at least ten years since I’d last visited with my parents, having grown out of the annual visits
when I hit my teens. In that time the place had lost its sparkle – just like me. It, too, felt abandoned and unloved. The store was deathly quiet, the staff all had a lethargy about them, and
even though I was the only customer they completely ignored me. Which is why I was surprised when I was tapped on the shoulder by supercilious-looking lady.
    ‘I’m Sharon. You must be the new girl,’ she barked. I opened my mouth to protest but she bulldozed on, ‘You’re late. I thought you weren’t coming.’
    ‘Oh, no . . .’ I began
    But she had already turned and stalked