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

by Emma Davies

  Daisy smiled. ‘I’m working on it,’ she said lightly.

  Kit looked straight at Daisy. ‘I already know what I need to be happy,’ he said. ‘And maybe one day I’ll get my wish. I hope so.’

  Bertie smiled. ‘I hope so too.’

  22

  Wednesday 18th December

  Seven shopping days until Christmas

  The ground was hard underfoot, sparkling like diamonds as Daisy walked, laying a trail through the frosty grass. It was early, only just gone seven o’clock, and the canal path was deserted. Even Robin was still tucked up inside, his narrowboat closed up against the cold and dark.

  She stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky still shining with stars. This time next week would be Christmas Day and Daisy would know her fate. Maybe then her life could go back to being how it was before. But then she stopped herself. Did she really want it to?

  She thought back to her conversation with Bertie yesterday. He and Kit had parted on good terms and, just before he left, Bertie had told her how excited he was at the thought of his new life. In fact, he wished it was something he had done years ago. On the face of it his news was a disaster for Daisy, and her future at Buchanans hung in the balance more than ever before. There was now only a fifty-fifty chance that Lawrence would lose and those were not odds she was happy about at all. But more than that was the thought that she was just as guilty as Bertie of not doing anything with her life. What had she been doing all these years?

  And so, tempting as it was to stay in bed an extra hour or two on her last day off before Christmas, she had got up at the usual time and, after a quick cup of tea, headed outside to clear her thoughts. She must finish the piece she had been working on for Nick’s girlfriend – if she didn’t get it in the post today then he would never stand a chance of receiving it in time. She must not think about Buchanans and, more importantly, she must not think about Kit. If she did then the day would escape her and she couldn’t let that happen.

  Fortified by the still morning air and the bracing cold, she went back inside to have some breakfast and another cup of tea. Then, and only then, would she start work. She had stayed up the night before last to make the heart, but she had not fired it yet and a fresh look might reveal it to be hopeless. The rest of the design was relatively straightforward, but she didn’t want to skimp on its finish either, and so the quicker she got to work the better.

  She fed the fire before sitting down at her work table and then she opened up the small pouch where she had stored the clay heart. Her own heart was pounding as she laid it in front of her. It wasn’t finished, she could see that straight away, but it was good. Her whole being lifted; it was everything she had hoped for and, as she surveyed it critically, she could see exactly what else was needed to make it perfect. She thrust aside the other thoughts in her head and, with a single-minded focus, picked up a small metal tool and set to work.

  Two hours went by before she even moved but, at the end of that time, she straightened, lifting her hands clear of the clay and took a deep breath. The heart was intricate, and it had taken several painstaking attempts to get everything fixed in such a way that firing the clay would strengthen the design and not weaken it. She would obviously have to check everything over again very carefully once it was fired, but for now at least she had something she could work with.

  She looked again at the messages Nick had sent, and the sketches she had made when the idea had first come to her. She really had no idea whether it would be a suitable gift or not, only Nick’s say-so that he liked it. But somehow, it felt right. She knew nothing about his girlfriend, not even her name, but she had a vision in her head of a petite redhead, with alabaster skin just like Nick had described, and a delicately formed face, just like the flowers she so loved. If any of that were true, then Daisy’s design would look beautiful. If not, then at least Nick had cared enough to try to make her gift something special, and maybe that was all it took to make it the perfect present. Daisy certainly thought so.

  It was as she was rolling out the clay for the second part of the design that her mobile rang. Not a number she recognised, she was on the verge of ignoring it when curiosity got the better of her. Her mobile never rang. Why would it, when there was no one to call her?

  Fumbling the buttons with mucky fingers she managed to connect the call, fully expecting to hear the rehearsed lines of a cold caller. Instead, she recognised the voice straight away.

  ‘Flora!’ she exclaimed. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Busy, but good busy. In fact, very good,’ came the reply. ‘Are you at work?’

  ‘No, a day off. Why? Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes… I was just wondering if you were okay to talk for a minute? And if you were sitting down?’ Daisy could hear the smile in her voice.

  ‘Go on…’ she replied, wondering what on earth was coming next.

  ‘Good, because I don’t suppose you know of a place called The Castle, do you? It’s real name is Ravenswick Hall but—’

  ‘What, the swanky wedding place? What self-respecting romantic hasn’t heard of it?’ She broke off, not wanting to think of anything to do with weddings or romance or relationships or anything that might lead her back to Kit. ‘Anyway, go on, sorry, I interrupted you.’

  ‘Well, there’s no reason why you would know this, but Hope Blooms supply the hotel with flowers, particularly for weddings. Their events manager and I have become quite good friends over the last six months and she popped in yesterday for a cup of tea on her way home. She wanted to talk about their plans for the new year.’

  ‘Okay…’ Daisy still had no idea where this was leading.

  ‘And so, while we were chatting and dunking custard creams, she caught sight of the sketches you had left with me and asked me what they were. I showed her the couple of pieces of jewellery you left and explained who you were, and what you did – she’d heard of Buchanans of course – and well, the upshot is that their plans for the new year include a new bridal room in which they will showcase items from local businesses. She’d like to offer you a space for jewellery.’

  Daisy’s heart nearly leaped clean out of her chest, but then almost immediately it sank again. ‘Oh, but I don’t know if that’s even going to be possible,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely of her of course, but not really my decision and I have no idea who’s going to be running Buchanans yet, or what plans they have, so I—’

  ‘Daisy,’ said Flora patiently. ‘I don’t mean Buchanans, I mean you. Kate would like to feature your designs.’

  ‘Wha... what?’

  ‘She absolutely loved them. In fact, she thought they were the nicest thing she had seen in a long time and she also thinks her brides would go for them, big time. Daisy… Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here,’ she replied faintly. ‘Sorry, I just can’t quite believe it. She’d rather have my designs over Buchanans, at The Castle?’

  ‘That’s what she said. And Kate is pretty decisive, I don’t think there’s any doubt in her mind.’

  Maybe so, but there was plenty in Daisy’s. There was a rising sense of excitement deep within her that she would have loved to give free rein to, but this was serious stuff. This wasn’t just making the odd piece of jewellery, this was supplying the county’s most popular wedding venue, something her competitors would give their eye teeth for. If Daisy couldn’t come up with the goods then there would be a whole queue of people waiting to step into her shoes.

  She realised she’d been quiet for a little too long. ‘Sorry, Flora… I’m just, speechless, actually. It’s the most amazing news I think I’ve ever had, but I’m not sure it’s something I can do. I have no stock, nothing I can offer for sale and, apart from the couple of designs I’ve shown you, nothing to show The Castle either.’ She bit her lip. ‘I really don’t think I can do this…’

  ‘Daisy, a very wise man who lives not a million miles from here once said that there’s nothing wrong with fear, it’s the place wher
e courage is born, and I think he’s right, don’t you?’

  Daisy smiled. ‘Amos,’ she murmured. It was just the kind of thing he would say.

  ‘Yes,’ said Flora. ‘And would it also help you to know that when I first went to see Kate about going into partnership with them, I hadn’t even grown any flowers, not a single one? I had a pad of paper, a head full of ideas and the rest I rather rashly made up on the spot. But the wonderful thing about Kate is that she can spot potential. She isn’t necessarily looking for the finished article, just the possibility… So, I know this is terrifying and right now you can’t think straight, but don’t discount it. Have a chat with Kate and let her convince you that you can do this.’

  Daisy nodded. It made sense, but it was still… ‘How do we do this? Do I get in touch with her, or the other way around?’

  ‘She asked if you could contact her, but not to worry until the new year, she’s flat out busy as you can imagine – it’s wall-to-wall parties at The Castle and they won’t be looking to open up this new venture until early spring. That should give you plenty of time to have a think and make a few plans.’ Flora paused for a moment. ‘And while you’re at it, have a think about designing some more jewellery to go with my prints, because that is definitely something we should do. I can’t decide whether we should have them as prints, or greetings cards, both probably.’

  There was a sudden intake of breath. ‘Listen, Daisy, I’m sorry, I’ve got to run, I have a bride coming to see me in ten minutes, but make sure you let me know when Grace’s present is finished, I can’t wait to see it!’

  Daisy was still holding the phone in her hand several minutes later, staring into the fire in a daze. She slowly replaced it on the table. This was madness. Stuff like this didn’t happen to her.

  She was getting carried away by the dream of it all, that’s all this was – the lure of Christmas magic, the trips out, the experiencing of new things, more than she had ever done over the last few years. Even the possibility of a relationship with Kit that went somewhere beyond friendship. All these things had made her think she was something she was not. For goodness’ sake, she had never had one single commission, let alone two. The chances were that once Christmas was over, several years would go by again before anything similar happened. It was time to get real. She had bills to pay, food to buy and none of that would happen by selling the odd bit of jewellery every now and again. Whichever way she looked at it she needed her income from Buchanans to survive, just as she had for the last eight years, and if that meant she would have to work with Lawrence, at least in the interim until she could find another job, then so be it.

  The clay was still in its wrapper, but she needed to get a move on and she pulled it towards her, unfurling it from its protective cover. She had lost her focus now but, taking a deep breath, she pushed everything else from her mind save what she needed to achieve. There would be plenty of time to ruminate later, once she had finished. She had a feeling she would be pounding the towpath quite a bit over the next few days.

  She took a break for lunch and another quick one around five when she went for a walk to clear her head but, other than that, she worked solidly through the day. At just gone eleven at night, she rose from the table, cold and stiff. The fire had long since died and she had been so intent on her work that she hadn’t even moved to collect a cardigan to keep herself warm. But she didn’t care, she was finished.

  Stretching out her arms and legs, she did a quick tour of the room to get her circulation going again and then she approached her work table, slowly and with a critical eye. The piece had surpassed all her expectations. There had been a moment after firing the heart when she’d thought she’d got it all wrong. It was too fussy, too intricate in parts and looked dull and lifeless. But she’d persevered, she’d had no choice, and, slowly, as she’d polished, its beauty had been revealed. She held her breath and picked up the heart, taking care not to taint its gleam with her fingers, and it nestled in the palm of her hand. It spoke of love, and that was all Daisy wanted.

  Laying it down carefully on a soft cloth, she pulled her laptop towards her and began to type a quick message.

  To NickCarr1:

  Hi Nick,

  Sorry it’s so late but I have just finished! I’ll post it tomorrow and keep everything crossed it gets to you in time… Polishing took a lot longer than I thought, and well, you’ll see why. I hope I have given you everything you wished for.

  Yours, Daisy.

  23

  Sunday 22nd December

  Three shopping days until Christmas

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Amos’s face was full of concern.

  Daisy opened the door wider and stood back to let him in, trying to rearrange her face into a bright smile as she did so.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Come on in.’ She held out her arms for his coat.

  ‘Flora won’t be long,’ he said. ‘But for obvious reasons we arranged to come separately. I’m supposedly on an errand for Ned because Flora has had to pop out to one of her brides for some last-minute emergency.’ He gave Daisy a long look as soon as he’d removed his jacket. ‘You do look tired though. I hope all this extra work hasn’t been too much?’

  But it wasn’t that which had caused Daisy’s tiredness, or it wasn’t the sole cause of it anyway.

  ‘No, no, it’s been fine. Actually, it’s given me something to occupy my evenings, so I’ve been very grateful,’ she replied. ‘It’s been a bit of a tough week for various reasons.’ She turned to hang up his coat. ‘However, it’s nearly Christmas so enough about that.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t wait to show you Grace’s present.’

  And at that a welling excitement began to grow. It had taken her until about eight o’clock last night to finish it, threading all the separate elements together and finally seeing if her design on paper would look the way she wanted it to. She had cried when she saw it.

  Amos smiled but he was still looking at her intently. ‘Is it the competition?’ he asked. ‘It must be getting quite intense now we’re so close to Christmas.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Pretty much… I’ve had a bit of a falling-out with Kit because of it, but it’s a long story.’ She really didn’t want to talk about it.

  ‘Then why don’t you tell me while we wait for Flora?’ said Amos, his expression suggesting that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. ‘Because I’ve a horrible feeling I might be to blame.’

  ‘You do? Well, I don’t see how…’ She led him through into the sitting room where she had already laid out a tray ready for tea. ‘Have a seat, Amos.’

  She added hot water to the teapot and gave its contents a stir, but when she turned back to ask Amos if he would like a cup, she was surprised to find him still standing, an anguished look on his face.

  ‘May I ask what you and Kit have fallen out over?’ he began.

  Daisy faltered. She had thought endlessly about whether she had simply got on her high horse about the whole issue and overreacted, but she hadn’t, it was the principle of the thing at stake. If none of them could be honest, then what was the point of the whole competition? Bea trusted her – that more than anything was what was important – and on it hung everything else. She’d had no choice but to take Kit to task. But, aside from that, what really hurt was the thought that he had used her.

  ‘I told you when I first came to your house why Buchanans were not to know about my jewellery-making, and the competition only complicated that further. But Kit and I got talking over dinner the other night and I stupidly confided a few things in him, one of which was what I’ve been doing in my spare time. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned anything at all but, oh Amos, it was such a relief to talk about it. And Kit was really encouraging too… I know why now, of course, seeing as he let slip that he knew about my jewellery-making the whole time.’ She dropped her head a little. ‘He was cheating all along, trying to get close to me so he could wheedle out of
me what I’d been working on. It all went a bit pear-shaped after that.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said Amos quietly. ‘And it’s as I thought.’ He drew in breath. ‘I rather think I owe you an apology, Daisy, because it was me who told Kit about your jewellery in the first place.’

  ‘Yes, I know, in the shop, the day after I’d been on the wreath-making course. But you weren’t to know, Amos, and besides, it wasn’t that. Kit asked me about it then and I just made light of it, saying I made clay-bead necklaces. He seemed to accept what I said and we didn’t speak any more about it, but this time it was different. He seemed to know exactly what I’d been doing.’

  Amos looked stricken. ‘And you and Kit…?’ He left the sentence dangling.

  ‘Yes, me and Kit,’ echoed Daisy. ‘Well, not any more. I thought there might have been but…’

  ‘And this dinner you shared with Kit, where was this? At a restaurant? Or at his wondrous wooden house in the woods?’

  Daisy’s eyes widened in shock. ‘You know where he lives?’

  Amos nodded sadly. ‘I do. Which is why I hoped that you and he might find a little spark of romance. You’re so alike, it’s a wonder you’ve never seen it before. I met him one day while I was out walking, and listening to him was like hearing him finish your sentences. I’d only met him briefly before then but…’ He trailed off, indicating the sofa. ‘I think I might sit down after all. Maybe you should join me.’

  He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Do you remember when I first met you that day in the shop?’

  How could Daisy have forgotten? It was the day when her whole world had seemed to change. She nodded.

  ‘And then the day after, on the course, you mentioned Kit, not in the most flattering terms as I recall.’ He smiled. ‘But I’d spotted something that first day, not only the title of the book he’d been reading, as I think I remarked to you, but also the way he looked at you. It reminded me of the way I look at Grace.’