The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street: An absolutely unforgettable Christmas romance

by Emma Davies

  She blushed but held out her hand. ‘Come on then, your turn now, I can’t wait to see the look on your face…’

  ‘What, the one when I’m flat on my backside with you standing over me laughing?’

  ‘No, the one when you realise that all your pots of money can’t buy a feeling like you’re flying. It’s the little things, Bertie, always has been, always will be.’

  It had been dark for some time by the time Daisy finally got home and she walked the path to her cottage more tired than she had been in a long while, but happier too. She couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone, and what she had been dreading had, quite unexpectedly, turned into the most wonderful day out. And she really couldn’t work out how it had happened.

  Bertie had always been the easiest of the brothers to talk to, but she had thought him brash and showy, lacking in care. In fact, he had turned out to be very considerate of her feelings and she could see very clearly how his upbringing had encouraged his devil-may-care attitude. What she hadn’t banked on had been his playful sense of fun and infectious good humour, which had made even the difficult aspects of the day easier to bear, and she had found him to be extraordinarily good company. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

  She came to an abrupt halt. What on earth was she doing? Today hadn’t been a date, so why was she even considering what it felt like? No, today was simply Bertie trying to make the best of a bad situation and, whatever else she felt, she would always be very grateful to him for that. More importantly, she reminded herself, it had been about who was going to end up running Buchanans and at least she felt more comfortable about the possibility that this might be Bertie. He might not have the most sensible of business heads, but at least she now knew that she could stand in the same room as him and not want to kill him. She was very worried that the same might not be true for Lawrence…

  She stood for a few moments looking at the reflection on the water. The sky was perfectly clear and a glowing crescent of moon sat low above the horizon. It would freeze tonight and she shivered; it was bitterly cold. She turned to go, pausing just for a second as she caught a glimpse in her head of her small self, turning circles on the ice. She smiled, wondering if she would ever see the canal frozen over again, and headed up the path to her cottage.

  Even though the day had been so lovely, it was always a relief to be home. The cottage welcomed her in, shut out the world and instantly things seemed simpler and easier to manage. She took off her coat and scarf and hung them on the peg in the hallway before moving through to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but a drink would be very welcome. She giggled in the silent space; she might even have a hot chocolate.

  10

  Tuesday 10th December

  Fifteen shopping days until Christmas

  It hadn’t been an easy day. She was tired and the shop had been unusually busy for a weekday, with fractious and impatient customers. It didn’t help that, despite her best efforts, nobody had bought a thing. She felt pressured and totally unable even to find any Christmas spirit. And then there were her increasing nerves about this evening’s meal with Grace and Amos. She wished she hadn’t pushed the meal back until later; it just gave her more hours to fret about their meeting.

  She sighed and glanced at her watch for about the twentieth time in the last five minutes. There was only an hour to go. Perhaps a cup of tea would help.

  ‘Cuppa?’ she asked as she walked past Kit.

  ‘What?’ He looked up as if seeing her for the very first time and she was taken aback by the distraught expression on his face.

  ‘I asked if you’d like a cup of tea?’

  It seemed to take him an inordinately long time to answer. ‘Yes, okay, if you like.’

  ‘Jeez,’ she murmured to herself as she walked through to the back. Kit was in a weird mood as well today. He’d spoken even less than usual, if that were possible.

  She was just pouring water onto the teabags when she heard the shop bell go. Ordinarily she would have checked whether Kit needed any help, but today she just ignored it. He could manage by himself for once. She took down the biscuit tin and took out a chocolate chip cookie, cramming half of it in her mouth. And she never ate biscuits at work. She didn’t even like cookies.

  ‘Oh dear, is it that bad?’

  She whirled around, her hand going straight to her mouth. It was Bertie, a bunch of red roses in his arms. She swallowed, spluttering as she struggled with the half-chewed biscuit. His look quickly changed from one of amusement to alarm when he saw her face. ‘Are you okay?’

  Daisy nodded rapidly, her cheeks colouring instantly. ‘Yes. Sorry… I wasn’t expecting… You startled me, that’s all.’ She swallowed the last of the biscuit. ‘See, no harm done. And that was my fault. I don’t normally eat biscuits, I think I…’ she trailed off, eyeing the blooms ‘… don’t really need to explain, do I?’

  Bertie shook his head, laughing. ‘No, you don’t. But if you have a biscuit habit that no one else is aware of, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’ He watched her for a moment more.

  ‘How have things been today?’ he asked. ‘Hard going?’ Despite his light-hearted comment earlier she realised that he actually was concerned to find her in the kitchen, stuffing her face with a biscuit.

  ‘Just… I’m tired, I think. And it’s been a bit of a slow day. Lots of customers, but no one in the mood for buying much.’

  The shop bell tinkled and Bertie nodded, waiting a few seconds until he could hear Kit’s voice in conversation. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ve done your best. And it’s no wonder you’re tired. Yesterday was a very long day, which is entirely my fault, but I do want to say thank you. Our day out could have been a complete disaster, but I really enjoyed it. I hope you did too.’

  She blushed and nodded, wondering if she should just take the flowers. Bertie was still clutching them, a wide smile on his face.

  ‘Thank you, it was lovely.’ She reached out a hand just as Bertie lowered his arm to his side.

  His face was immediately wreathed in apology. ‘Oh God, Daisy, I’m so sorry…’ He stared down at the roses in his hand. Flowers that were clearly meant for someone else. ‘That was… incredibly rude… I really wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘No, no, it’s all right… honestly. No, don’t apologise.’ She could barely speak, she’d never felt so embarrassed.

  ‘I’ve just come from the market and thought I should pop in to say thank you while I was here. I’m just on my way over to see my… well, it doesn’t really matter.’ He swallowed, lifting the bouquet. ‘Actually, you should have these. I can get some more, I—’

  ‘Bertie, honestly… It doesn’t matter.’

  He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. He was just as red-faced as she was. And it was all her fault. How could she have been so stupid as to think he would be bringing her flowers?

  ‘No, it does matter…’ He groaned. ‘I should go,’ he added, ‘before I make things any worse, but I did have a great time yesterday, really.’

  She nodded, biting her lip. ‘So, did I, Bertie. And please, don’t worry… I’m not offended.’ She plastered a smile on her face. ‘And if you think about it, it’s really quite funny…’

  He held her look for a moment before, to her amazement, coming forward and kissing her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re very kind.’

  She stared at the empty doorway as he left, her cheeks on fire and her heart thudding in her chest.

  ‘Right,’ she said under her breath. ‘Well, that was… unexpected…’ Her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. Could this day get any worse?

  She stared at the mugs of tea, huffing a little and, for a moment, quite unable to do a thing. Then she cleared her throat, ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. Hastily finishing making the drinks, she carried them straight back out onto the shop floor where their customer was just pulling open the door to leave.

  ‘Phew, what a day,’ she
said to Kit brightly. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m ready for this.’ She handed him a mug and carried hers back to the counter on the other side of the room.

  Kit stared at her. ‘Not a red roses kind of girl?’ he said. His tone was light enough, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.

  A sudden heat bloomed within her. ‘Bertie just popped in to say thank you for yesterday. And for your information the flowers weren’t for me.’ Her voice sounded stiff and pompous but she willed it to stay steady.

  ‘Oh, Daisy…’ Kit’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m really sorry. Bertie is, well, he’s…’

  But the look in Kit’s eyes had caught her completely off-guard. ‘What for?’ she demanded, flustered. ‘That the flowers weren’t mine? Or insinuating that there was something going on between Bertie and me?’

  He bowed his head, his contrition clear. ‘For jumping to conclusions when I had no right to.’ He held her look for a second before his face crumpled. ‘Tell me honestly though,’ he blurted out. ‘Have you handed it to Bertie on a plate? Because it’s driving me mad not knowing. I mean, I’d understand if you have… Bertie is suave, good-looking, and flash with the cash. I think if I were in your position I’d do the same, but…’

  He trailed off as she turned and stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. ‘Christopher Buchanan, do you know how incredibly insulting that comment is?’

  He winced at the use of his full name. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, ‘I wasn’t thinking, I…’

  She glared at him, but he looked so sheepish her anger melted away and she softened her expression. ‘Fortunately for you, however, I’m not insulted because I know that you don’t mean I would ever stoop so low as to hand things to Bertie on a plate, as you put it. Because that would make me dishonest, disloyal and not a nice person at all.’

  He closed his eyes and groaned.

  ‘Plus I can see how, knowing him as you do, there’s a very real possibility that he might have sought an unfair advantage and that, flattered by his winning smile and wily ways, I acquiesced… But I didn’t, nor will I, and don’t you ever suggest anything like that again. For goodness’ sake you’re—’

  ‘Behaving like a child. Yes, I know.’ He looked up at her through his lashes. ‘Do you know what I hate most about all of this? It’s the fact that I’ve spent most of my life trying to dodge all the bullets that my brothers fired at each other, and me, if I was around, and now I feel as if I’m back in the nursery. I have never wanted to throw my toys out of the pram so much as I do now.’

  She was taken aback by the stark honesty of his words and faltered for a moment, unsure what to make of his statement.

  ‘You know, I do understand how you’re feeling, Kit, but you have to trust me, otherwise the next few weeks are going to be unbearable. And in the meantime would it help you to know that Bertie still has no more advantage over the rest of you? We had a nice day, we talked about stuff and, if Bertie is shrewd, he may have deduced certain aspects of my character which may help him with his final design…’

  She broke off, giving Kit a telling look. ‘What we didn’t do is directly discuss what my favourite piece of jewellery is now, or, if I had five grand knocking about, what I’d like it to be. And if it helps I’ll remind you of that fact the day after I go out with Lawrence,’ she said. ‘We’ll probably be having a similar conversation.’

  Kit nodded, thinking about her words. ‘Yes,’ he replied ruefully, acknowledging his shortcomings. ‘We probably will…’ He bent his head to take a sip of his tea and then stopped, looking back across at her with a soft smile on his face. ‘And for the record, Daisy, I do trust you. And Bertie’s an idiot, he should have bought you the flowers.’

  Now that she was home, Daisy took out the wreath she had made and scrutinised it carefully in an effort to take her mind off things. She had already fired the silver clay leaves and berries and rubbed the residue away, leaving gleaming metal in its place. Polished repeatedly, it now shone as part of the wintry decoration. Set amid the hydrangea heads, eucalyptus and trails of ivy, Daisy thought it was inspired. The colours and textures complimented one another beautifully and, with some clever wiring, she had managed to make two pieces that were removable. One was formed from entwining leaves so that it could be worn as a necklace and the other as a brooch. She only hoped that Grace would like it. How did you even begin to work out what someone would like when jewellery was so personal?

  She stopped, staring unseeing at the wall opposite. It had never occurred to her until now how similar her situation was to that of the Buchanan brothers. Each of them needed to design something for someone they barely knew and she was in exactly the same position, except that her future wasn’t resting on the outcome of the competition. She looked down at the wreath in her hands – then again, perhaps it was…

  She swallowed. Oh God, now she was really nervous. A glance at the clock showed she still had over half an hour before she needed to leave for Grace and Amos’s house; what she needed was another distraction. She pulled her laptop towards her.

  She had intended to have a little browse of some of her favourite creative sites, either to source materials or look at design inspirations, but, as soon as she logged on, she saw that she had received a message alert from her Instagram account. She had checked last night when she had got home and been a little disappointed to find that there had been no response to her last message, but now here he was, contacting her again.

  Underneath where she had typed ‘What did you have in mind?’ was now a row of dots, followed by his reply:

  NickCarr1: That’s a tough one, I don’t really know. Sorry to be so useless! I guess the trouble is that I want something a bit different, not like anything you can find in the shops, but something that is really individual to her. So now I’m stuck… how do we do this?

  God, he really was serious about this. She had thought she would never hear from him again. Daisy thought for a minute and then typed.

  Where are you based? Could you come and see me?

  She sat back and stared at the screen. That might not have been the wisest thing, but it would make life an awful lot simpler. And in any case they could always meet somewhere public. He’d better get a move on though, Christmas was only just over two weeks away. She was just about to close her laptop again when a reply came pinging back.

  Norfolk… You?

  She smiled and flexed her fingers.

  No good I’m afraid. I’m a very long way from there.

  She tapped a finger on the edge of the keyboard while she thought of what else to say.

  So then I guess the only way to do this is for you to send me as much information as you can about your girlfriend: what she likes, dislikes, her hobbies, attributes, favourite colours, that kind of thing. Maybe even some pictures of things she already has? I can sketch you some ideas with prices and maybe take it from there? Oh, and I need to know what you’re thinking of – a bracelet, earrings, necklace?

  She pressed send, and then, as an afterthought:

  And you’d best be quick, sorry, but there’s not much time left…

  Almost immediately a new message appeared.

  I know, I’m sorry. I travel a lot on business and am generally hopeless! Definitely a necklace though – I want her to wear it next to her heart – Aw! The rest of the stuff sounds good… Can you leave it with me? I’ll give you as much as I can, as soon as I can, but I’m away again in the morning for a couple of days. Friday at the latest, I promise!

  Okay, I look forward to hearing from you. She typed in reply. Many thanks.

  Daisy closed the lid of her laptop thoughtfully. Oh, it was so romantic. Imagine having a boyfriend who wanted to do that for you. She didn’t think he was hopeless at all, in fact, he sounded wonderful. She glanced at her watch and began to collect her things together. It was almost time to go.

  Her nerves had been steadily building with every mile she drove and as Daisy approached Grace’s house, do
wn an enormous long driveway, she almost turned around again and went home. It was the grandest approach she’d ever seen, winding up a hill through an avenue of trees. Even in winter it had a definite air of the majestic about it.

  She was relieved, however, that the house at the top of the driveway was not quite as grand as the approach had led her to believe. More of a large cottage, or possibly two cottages joined together; a jumble of roof lines and warm red walls, but a handsome house, nonetheless. It looked very fine indeed with a pair of small Christmas trees flanking the front doorsteps, each topped with a huge red bow. An enormous wreath hung on the front door and Daisy smiled to herself when she saw it. Of course, what else?

  An owl hooted somewhere behind her as she climbed from the car and, as she crossed the gravelled forecourt, it was answered by another. She stopped to listen but after a moment she moved on, feeling the keenness of the wind after the contrasting heat of the car.

  It felt like several weeks had passed since she had been on the course, but the barely contained excitement of Grace’s greeting instantly brought back the warmth of their first meeting.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ said Grace. ‘Oh, this is going to be so much fun!’ She led the way down the softly lit hallway, halting when she realised that Daisy was lagging behind. She doubled back.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  They were standing by a large wall hanging made from some sort of fine gauzy material. Golden in colour, it shimmered in the soft light, but it was what was contained within that caught Daisy’s eye. The rectangle of fabric had been divided into square ‘pockets’, similar to a sheet of ravioli, but inside of each… Daisy peered closer, yes, they really were… real leaves, bright yellows and reds in colour, some large, some small, some pockets containing more than one leaf. It was beautiful. Underneath it, on a polished wooden console table, stood a huge bowl of winter foliage, rich green ivy and holly, dotted with ruby berries, and all intermingled with gilded pine cones.