by Emma Davies
Amos was nodding in encouragement, but Daisy pulled a face. She had thought endlessly of the possibilities that Buchanans could offer her, if only they had a mind to, but every time she considered it, she still came back to the same point – that she honestly didn’t believe they would find any merit in what she did. And she wasn’t about to make a laughing stock of herself.
‘It isn’t that easy,’ she replied. ‘Especially now.’
‘Why, because your boss is retiring?’ asked Grace. ‘But, if you think about it, the fact that someone new will be taking over Buchanans could also make it the perfect time.’ And then she stopped. ‘Oh…’ Her eyes widened. ‘You will still have a job, won’t you?’
‘Possibly… I’m not even sure about that any more.’
Amos’s face was full of sympathy. ‘Then it would really help you to get your own business up and running now, wouldn’t it? Whether you tell them about it or not. Do you know yet who’ll be running the company?’
‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘It will be a family member – there are three sons all waiting in the wings, but it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. Bea is a little, shall we say, eccentric… She has a love of the theatrical. So, whereas anyone else might make a decision about who is to be their successor based on logic and careful consideration, Bea has decided that the only way to separate the relative merits of each brother is to hold a competition.’ She went on to quickly explain the rules of the task that Bea had set.
Amos’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t decide whether that’s absolutely monstrous, or the best idea I’ve ever heard.’
‘No, well you should try being in the middle of it all,’ muttered Daisy. ‘They all squabble like little children and, although I had a lovely day out with Bertie, he’s completely clueless when it comes to business, Kit hardly speaks, and I’m dreading my day out with Lawrence. What’s worse is that I don’t think I’d like to work with any of them.’
‘Oh, how come?’ asked Grace.
Daisy shot Amos a quick look. He had met Kit but Grace shouldn’t know that, and she hoped he wouldn’t put his foot in it.
‘Well, Lawrence is an arrogant bully, Bertie is a party animal, and Kit… well, he isn’t always… how can I put it, full of initiative. The business needs someone with a passion for what they do, and the vision to see an idea through. I just don’t think that’s Kit.’
Amos smiled. ‘Maybe he’ll surprise you.’
Daisy gave him a puzzled look but he avoided her eyes, concentrating on his drink.
‘Perhaps… I mean he’s nice enough…’ She trailed off, thinking about Kit’s words earlier that day, and the look in his eyes… ‘He’s just very quiet,’ she finished, feeling an unexpected colour in her cheeks.
‘Not a nice position for you to be in, though,’ added Grace. ‘And I can quite see why you’re a little reticent about confiding in them. But, perhaps when you’ve got to know them better, you might think differently. There’s still every chance that they’d be open to new ideas.’
‘Not mine they won’t,’ replied Daisy. ‘Not when I tell them what I really think.’ She glanced across at Amos but he was eating a mince pie. ‘You asked me before how I started making my own jewellery, and the simple reason is that I see things differently from Bea. She’s been very good to me over the years and gave me a job when I needed it most but I don’t want to make the kind of jewellery that Buchanans sells. Whether you have pots of money, or none, people are mostly the same when it comes to matters of the heart. I deal in love, you see, day in, day out, and what matters most when you’re giving a gift is not the cost of it, or what it says to anyone else, but that it speaks only words of love.’
She blushed at her words, fearing that she had become carried away by her emotion. ‘And that’s why I make the things I do, because I don’t think Buchanans sells things that speak only of love. Their jewellery speaks only of wealth and possessions and status, and that’s not the same at all.’
Amos looked up. ‘That jewellery should speak only words of love,’ he echoed. ‘I think that’s the most beautiful sentiment I’ve ever heard.’
12
Friday 13th December
Twelve shopping days until Christmas
Friday the 13th December – how could a trip on this day be anything other than a disaster from start to finish? Daisy stared at herself in the mirror, sticking out her tongue and tugging at her skirt. She felt scratchy and uncomfortable but Lawrence’s instructions had been very clear. She should be well dressed, smart, no trousers and, if she had them (this was what irritated her the most), good quality or designer clothes. She almost cancelled the trip right there and then. She took in a deep breath. And relax, she urged herself. For goodness’ sake, Daisy, you will have the most horrendous day if you carry on like this.
They were travelling by train, so Daisy had arranged to meet Lawrence at the nearest station, a half hour’s drive away. She drove slowly, glancing anxiously at the sky which was heavy and looked laden with snow. She spotted Lawrence’s silver Lexus the moment she pulled into the car park. It was in a reserved space, leaving her to trawl the rows looking for a free slot among the rank and file. Mercifully, she found one, and hurried from the warmth of her car across to where Lawrence was parked. He was reading a newspaper, the broad sheets almost filling the interior of the car. His tan leather driving gloves curled around its edges. How he turned the pages, Daisy had no idea. She stood there for a moment feeling increasingly foolish while she waited for him to notice her but then, deciding that he was either ignoring her, or just incredibly unaware of his surroundings, she rapped sharply on the window.
He turned, frowning at first but then quickly rearranged his face into a smile. She watched as he folded the newspaper meticulously into smaller and smaller sections, revealing – Oh, dear God – he was wearing a suit and tie. Where on earth did you go out for the day that necessitated wearing something so formal? If Daisy had been nervous before, now her anxiety levels were going through the roof.
She waited while he organised himself, hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm. The newspaper was tucked away, the driving gloves were removed and swapped for a black pair, a phone was collected, a coat and scarf slid from a hanger above the rear door, until finally Lawrence was suitably dressed and ready to greet her.
‘Daisy,’ he said briefly, nodding. ‘Thanks for coming.’ He checked his watch. ‘We should go,’ he added, ‘and I’ll brief you on the train.’
She stared at him. ‘Hi Lawrence, it’s nice to see you too.’ She couldn’t help herself. Pompous idiot.
He coloured slightly and cleared his throat. ‘Yes, of course. My apologies… This is all rather… awkward, isn’t it?’
He actually looked so uncomfortable that Daisy suddenly felt rather sorry for him. She smiled. ‘It doesn’t have to be,’ she said. ‘I’m nervous too, but we can still have a nice day. I was just as nervous when I went out with Bertie but—’
‘Well yes, of course… life and soul of the party, Bertie – what’s not to like about a day out with Bertie? I should imagine it’s just fun, fun, fun, morning, noon and night.’
Daisy felt herself colouring, but she bit her tongue; arguing with Lawrence would only make it worse.
‘I agree, you’re very different,’ she said cautiously. ‘But Bertie is struggling with this competition just as much as you, believe me. Perhaps he just shows it differently, that’s all.’
Lawrence raised his eyebrows. ‘Yeah, by refusing to take it seriously. That’s pretty much his stance on everything.’
He indicated that they should start walking, his mouth set in a straight line. Whatever Daisy might have wanted to say in response would clearly have to wait and she watched his retreating back in dismay. It could well turn out to be one of the longest days of her life.
It wasn’t a big station and there were only two platforms, connected by a footbridge, but both were already thronged with people. She glanced up at the de
parture board as she hurried after Lawrence; she still had no idea where they were going. He was headed towards the far end of the platform and, to her surprise, pushed open a door that she didn’t remember ever seeing before. He held it open for her as she passed inside into a smallish room with plush seating and a temperature far exceeding that of outside. It was also empty. She looked back towards the door and the milling people outside on the platform, their faces animated as they chatted, rubbing hands and stamping feet to keep warm. It seemed far preferable to her than the silent space she would have to occupy with Lawrence.
She sat down, pulling her bag around her so that she could cradle it in her lap. Her hands reached automatically for the keys inside, her fingers folding around them, so that they might keep her safe. She swallowed and looked around.
The room was a strange mixture of corporate hospitality on the one hand, with advertisements boasting unrivalled levels of service for the modern business person, and on the other, soft furnishings and watercolours more usually found in hotel foyers. There were also no windows. Daisy looked towards the door a little uneasily.
‘I’ve never been in here before,’ she said. ‘In fact, I didn’t even know it existed. It’s a bit of an odd little room though.’
‘Is it?’ replied Lawrence. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘But how do you know when the train is coming?’ she added. ‘If you can’t see out.’
Lawrence silently indicated a small screen set in the wall next to a painting of some geese. It was so incongruous it made her want to laugh. She didn’t though.
‘Ah, I see…’ She looked about her again. ‘No one else seems to know this room is here either. You’d think they’d put a sign on the door or something.’
‘It’s the first-class lounge,’ said Lawrence, inspecting his gloves, his tone just crossing the line into condescension.
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, silly me,’ she muttered. Her fingers gripped her keys even tighter. She chewed at the inside of her cheek. ‘So where are we going then?’ she asked, grinning. ‘To see the Queen?’
She expected a smile, possibly even a chuckle, or at the very least for her comment to be parried with another in similar fashion, but instead Lawrence gave her a look that was not far off a glare.
‘We are going to London,’ he replied, stiffly. ‘But not to sightsee. Under the circumstances that would be rather a waste of time. And I would imagine that even were the Queen at home she wouldn’t be keen to spend her afternoon discussing the price of fish.’
Daisy could feel her cheeks flushing again, but was saved from having to find a suitable reply by a soft ping from the monitor on the wall.
‘That’s us,’ said Lawrence. ‘Come along, and once we’re settled I can explain what’s going to be happening today.’ He got to his feet and crossed to the door.
Daisy stared at his back. Just like that, she thought. No, Where would you like to go? or What would you like to do? She had imagined that the day would be very different from the one she’d spent with Bertie, but at least he’d tried to consider what she might like. Here she was simply fulfilling a function.
She took her seat on the train, grateful to at least be sitting by the window, and watched as Lawrence settled himself, taking off his gloves and coat and laying them carefully on the rack above his head.
‘Right,’ he said purposefully the minute he was seated beside her. ‘I’ve made a list of things I shall need to know about you.’ He reached for his inside jacket pocket. ‘So let’s get these ticked off first, it shouldn’t take too long. And it would be helpful if you could answer as fully as possible. I shall make notes.’
Daisy pressed her lips together. ‘Can I just ask you something?’
Lawrence tilted his head. ‘Is it relevant?’ he asked.
She stared out of the window as the train began to pull from the station. ‘To me it is, yes. You see, you seem to be under the impression that today is just about extracting as much information about me as you can, thinking that this will give you everything you need to create the perfect gift. But today should work both ways, Lawrence; it’s also an opportunity for me to get to know you. After all, if you’re successful in winning this competition, I might be working for you, and I need to be sure that I’d want to. It’s my future at stake here too.’
‘Yes, yes, but it’s hardly the same thing, is it? Your future, working in the shop, against mine running the company. The stakes are somewhat higher in my case.’
‘Are they?’ she argued. ‘Are you sure about that? Because from where I’m sitting, they’re exactly the same. This is important to me too, and it might help you if you stopped to consider why that might be the case instead of just assuming that running a business is more important than working in one. Just in case you don’t end up in charge.’
He stared at her. ‘But I have to gain control of the business.’
‘Why?’
His jaw was working.
‘Because it’s my birthright, Daisy. I don’t expect you to understand about such things, but I’m the head of this family and I was made that way a long time ago when my father died. I’ve carried that weight, this responsibility, most of my adult life and, as such, it’s only right that Buchanans comes to me…’ He broke off, pouting slightly. ‘I was promised it.’ He shook his head. ‘Look, that hardly matters now, my father died a long time ago.’ He gave her a puzzled look. ‘And I don’t see what that has to do with anything.’
Daisy held his look for a moment. ‘Probably everything.’ But she smiled. ‘All I’m saying is that I’d be very grateful if you could do me the courtesy of remembering that, while you’re interrogating me, underneath is a person who could also stand to lose a great deal when this competition finally comes to an end.’
He gave the slightest of nods, acknowledging her point. ‘Although I have to say that’s another thing I don’t understand…’ He broke off as an announcement came over the train’s tannoy, before continuing. ‘… Why you’ve been involved in all this in the first place. It’s not as if you have any final say in the matter…’
His eyes narrowed as he inhaled a sharp breath. ‘Oh, I get it…’ he said, slowly. ‘Of course, this is all a bloody set-up, isn’t it? You are choosing who wins, that’s exactly what this is all about! For God’s sake, you and Mother have been as thick as thieves all these years, I knew there must be more to it than she was telling us.’
Lawrence’s face had twisted into a sneer while he was talking and Daisy could feel herself growing hotter and hotter. ‘It’s not like that at all,’ she whispered.
‘I might as well bloody give up now, because we all know who’s going to win, don’t we? Bertie-charm-the-birds-out-the-trees-Buchanan – enjoy your day out with him, did you?’
Daisy felt tears sting her eyes. ‘At least he was nice to me, and didn’t accuse me of cheating. And if you must know, yes, we did have a nice day out, but that in no way means he is any more or less likely to win than either you or Kit. In fact, he even asked me if he could take me to a jeweller’s and just point out what I liked, but I told him I couldn’t do that. Apart from not being fair, it also wouldn’t give him any clue about why a particular piece was the perfect gift for me. And no, I wasn’t about to tell him that either.’ She fished a tissue out of her bag. ‘The difference is that Bertie just accepted what I told him instead of becoming utterly obnoxious. And he’s just as scared of losing as you are.’
‘Bertie? Scared? What on earth could Bertie possibly have to worry about? He’s never had to take responsibility for anything his whole life.’
‘Maybe he’s never been allowed to, Lawrence, with you ruling the roost. So for your information he’s really worried about what he’s going to do if you get control of the company because he’s under no illusion that you’ll give him a job. And in his words, he’s fit for nothing. I think that’s a pretty big admission to make, so don’t you dare laugh at him.’
She was about to s
ay something else when there was a hiss and swish from the end of the carriage and a uniformed steward moved along the aisle towards them.
‘Good morning, Sir, Madam, and welcome aboard.’ He nodded deferentially. ‘Breakfast will be served shortly but, in the meantime, if you’d care for some refreshment, we have a range of beverages on offer.’
The man wore a broad smile, looking backwards and forwards between the two of them, seemingly unaware of the dispute he had just interrupted. His manner was so overtly cheerful that it burst the bubble of Daisy’s anger in an instant. She was mortified. She had no right to speak to Lawrence like that and, apart from anything else, he would never give her a job if she kept picking fights with him.
She shot Lawrence a look, expecting to see irritation still written across his face. Instead, like her, it seemed that the arrival of someone else into their space had rather taken the wind out of his sails and he was struggling to rearrange his face into a smile.
‘How about you, Madam, what can I get you?’
It was on the tip of Daisy’s tongue to answer with an automatic ‘Tea please’ but then she had a sudden thought. ‘Do you have any hot chocolate?’ she asked.
‘Yes, indeed. Always popular on cold mornings.’ The steward smiled again. ‘And would you like it with the addition of some cream and marshmallows?’
‘Oh, yes please, that would be lovely.’ And to her surprise the thought of it was quite lovely.
