by Clare Lydon
Fran put a hand to her forehead. “Perfect. Now Damian thinks we’re back on.”
“Sorry.” Delilah put her hands in the air like she was under arrest. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”
Fran shook her head. “It’s fine.” She grabbed the coffees and gave one to Delilah.
Delilah peeked under the lid. “Damn that boy. He remembered no milk.”
“He’s good. It’s why I keep him on.”
Delilah leaned back on the sofa and eyed Fran. “Who’s this woman you might be having a thing with?” Something flickered across her face, but Fran couldn’t quite place it. Regret? If it was, she was a little late.
Fran put her head back, before tilting it towards Delilah. “Ruby O’Connell. Her parents own a Christmas tree farm in Mistletoe, and my dads bought the cottage next door. And yes, I know that sounds like the plot of a Hallmark Christmas movie. She lives in London usually, but she’s back there helping out her parents for Christmas.” Fran paused. “She’s also a shit-hot folk singer who I tried to sign, and she turned me down.”
“Ouch,” Delilah replied. “Before or after you slept with her?”
Fran laughed. “Way before. Seven months ago. Her living in Mistletoe was a head-fuck at first, but we’re over our differences now.” Fran got up and grabbed her phone from her desk, ignoring the interested looks from her colleagues.
“Have you heard of her?” Fran sat back down.
Delilah wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t think so. I’ve been too busy touring to listen to any new music.”
Fran called up Ruby’s new song on her phone. “Her new single is incredible.” She hit play.
Delilah listened, rapt.
When Fran clicked stop, Delilah nodded her head approvingly. “That song is dynamite.” She paused, glancing at Fran. “You think this could go somewhere? Not the music, but with her?”
Fran swallowed down a breath. “I think it could. It’s early days, but signs are promising.”
“I’m pleased for you. You deserve love from someone better than me.” She put up her hand. “And before you tell me I wasn’t that bad—”
“I wasn’t going to,” Fran replied.
Delilah mimed a dagger to her heart. “Wow, you’re harsh. But I know I put you through it, so I deserve it. I’m just pleased you’ve found someone who wants the same thing you do. We were wrong time, wrong place.”
Fran nodded. “We were.”
“But we can still be friends, right?”
Fran eyed her, then nodded. Perhaps enough time had passed and they really could be. Like proper grown-ups. “I guess we can.”
“Fabulous.” Delilah sat forward and sipped her coffee. “That single is amazing, by the way. It’s still going around in my head.” She got her phone from her bag, called up Ruby on Spotify and hit follow. “She’s still not signed? Doing this on her own?”
“She is. Adamant. She’s been burned by a label before. I’m leaving it for now, but I’d love to see her hit the big time.”
Delilah shrugged. “You can’t force her. People have got to come to it in their own time. A bit like coming out and being yourself.” She eyed Fran. “But I agree. She could be big.”
It was good to hear confirmation of that from Delilah. It made a difference.
“Anyway, as my friend, how about dinner tonight?” Delilah asked.
Fran took a deep breath, then nodded. “You’re on.”
Chapter 23
Scott leaned a Christmas tree against Ruby’s till point, then gave his sister a wink. At seven feet, the tree was 12 inches taller than him. Scott’s dark hair was hidden under his black bobble hat, his cheeks red from the cold.
“The Varnish family tree. They should be around here somewhere?” Scott’s gaze raked the barn. It stopped at an excited young boy running in their direction. “And there’s the smallest. I gave him a ride on the quad bike earlier. I’m now his best friend forever.”
As if backing up that claim, the young boy ran up to Scott and gave him a super-sized grin. “Hey, Scott!”
“Hey, Aaron.” Scott stood back. “Here’s your tree. Ready to take it home?”
Aaron’s eyes were wide as he nodded, looking at the tree like it was the best thing he’d ever seen.
Ruby couldn’t help but smile as his parents appeared, along with an older sister who was far too cool for Christmas. This family were like so many who came to Mistletoe Farm. Choosing their tree signalled the official start of their festive season. Mistletoe Farm was all about making memories, and Ruby was proud to be a part of it.
“I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of my sister, Ruby, to wrap it for you.” Scott walked away.
Mrs Varnish peered at Ruby. “Are you doing the gig on Saturday?”
Heat worked its way to Ruby’s cheeks. “That’s me.”
The woman waggled a finger between herself and her husband. “We’re coming, and we can’t wait! We used to go to loads of gigs before we had kids. I’ve been listening to your stuff and you’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re serving us a Christmas tree.”
Ruby netted the tree with a smile, clambering over her embarrassment. “I hope you’re happy with the tree and the concert.”
“We can’t wait. We love it here. Any excuse to come back.”
It seemed like the gig was doing its job.
When the family left, Ruby glanced at her phone. No message from Fran yet today.
Fran had sent one when she got back to London yesterday, and it had left Ruby in no doubt that Fran had enjoyed Monday night just as much as she had. However, they were still separated by distance this week, and it was gnawing at Ruby. She had to remember she lived in London usually, and after Christmas, she and Fran would both be there together.
If they were an item by then. Ruby ran her fingers over the top of her woollen hat. She wanted her and Fran to work more than she’d care to admit. What’s more, if Ruby had made a different decision, she could have been in London with Fran right now.
Somehow, Mistletoe had sucked her back in. But this year was different. She was happy to be helping out and spending time with her family. But something had shifted inside her. Was it time for a change? Could this be the last year she’d be netting Christmas trees? Her dad’s words had got through. Fran’s words had got through. Even the words from her last customer, who couldn’t believe she was serving her. Ruby shouldn’t be here. She should be in London with Fran. In London, working on her career.
That thought pulled her up short. Had Fran made that much of an impact on Ruby?
Ruby needed to get out of her comfort zone. But even as she thought that, doubts began to surface. Playing here was one thing. Playing to big crowds elsewhere was quite another. She made enough money doing what she did. It wasn’t a lavish life, but she got by. Not every artist had to be a big star, did they?
Damn it, she confused herself. No wonder she’d been stalling, unable to move forward.
Fran’s words rang in Ruby’s ears. ‘Putting your career on hold for a month every year is something most people wouldn’t do.’ Was she self-sabotaging without realising it? Ruby ground her teeth together. Not only was Fran sexy. She was also shining a light on all the areas Ruby had been steadfastly trying to ignore.
Her phone ringing broke Ruby’s train of thought. She glanced at the screen. It was Fran. She looked around the barn. Her mum was to her right, chatting with a customer. “Mum?”
Mary turned.
“Can you cover the till point for five minutes?” She held up her phone. “I just need to take this call.”
Mary nodded. “No problem.”
Ruby scooted over to the barn office, which did nothing to dispel memories of just how sexy Fran was. She still very vividly recalled two nights earlier, when Fran fucked her against the desk she was now leaning on. She could easily have sat on the sofa, or even in the office chair. But somehow, perching on this desk, legs spread, was her new favourite position.
“Hello to you,” Ruby said. “Guess where I am?”
“The Bahamas, sipping a tropical cocktail?”
“Close. I’m leaning against a certain desk in the office barn.”
Fran paused for a few seconds.
Ruby was pretty sure she heard her smile.
“Are your legs spread?”
“Don’t.” Ruby closed her eyes, feeling herself getting wet.
“It’s my favourite desk in the whole world.”
“That makes two of us.” Ruby rolled her shoulders to stop herself dropping too deep into the memory. She was working, and this time, the blinds were wide open. She shook herself.
“Anyway, this is a lovely surprise. How’s it going with your indie girl band?”
“A little better. They’re here now, and Delilah is having a chat with them, which should hopefully go a long way to calming them down. If nothing else, they’ll have to process being starstruck, so it’ll take their attention away from their issues.”
Ruby’s jaw tightened. “Delilah’s there? Did you know she was coming?” She tried really hard to stop those words coming out as possessive. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.
“I didn’t, but she’s got a gap in her tour, so she came by the label. She’s helping out with Fast Forward, and we’ve cleared the air.” Fran paused, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Just so you know, I’m having dinner with her later. Purely as friends. We’ve both moved on, and we’ve both met new people. That’s you, by the way.”
Ruby’s muscles tightened, then relaxed a little. She wasn’t sure which part of the previous sentence to focus on. The positive or the negative. “That’s good to hear. Nobody wants to have incredible sex one night, and then hear that person is going out for dinner with their ex two nights later.”
“I know,” Fran replied. “But I promise, this is purely to catch up. Delilah and I are going to cross paths. We work for the same label. So just in case anything gets in the paper or appears online, remember that. I can’t wait to come back to Mistletoe and see you again.”
Ruby had no hold over Fran. They’d shagged once. They weren’t going out. But Delilah was a megastar, and Ruby was not.
However, Fran’s head wasn’t turned by fame.
Ruby knew that.
She just had to keep reminding herself.
“The feeling’s mutual.” Ruby gripped the desk. The edge was now sticking into her leg. It wasn’t quite as soft and sensual as it had been.
“How’s the gig shaping up? I mailed Scott the designs, so hopefully he’s getting the Facebook ads to work locally.”
Ruby nodded. “He did, and he’s having success. I walked him through the basics and he was awake half the night setting it up. He might become my social media manager after this.”
“After your Mistletoe gig when everyone falls in love with you and your sales take off, you should definitely put him to work.”
Ruby smiled. “There’s only going to be a couple of hundred people. I’m not sure it’s going to change my life.”
“You never know who’s going to be in the crowd. It could be someone big. It’s what I tell all my artists. I’ve seen bands play to five people, but one of those worked for a major label and that was the gig that changed their lives.”
“I know. But the preparation’s going well. I practised some more today, and we’ve got posters, flyers, the lot.” Ruby dug the nail of her middle finger into the pad of her thumb. “You are going to make it back for Saturday, aren’t you? It would feel kinda hollow without you here.”
Fran didn’t answer right away. “Fast Forward have got a big day on Friday with press and a gig, then a TV appearance at the weekend. I shouldn’t need to be here after Friday, and that’s my plan. I’m going to do everything in my power to be at your gig.”
It was as good as Ruby could hope for. She desperately wanted Fran to be there. Her world might screech to a halt if she wasn’t. “Make sure your power is super-charged.” Ruby pushed herself off the desk, trying to stay upbeat. “What about Troubadour? When are they getting here?”
Fran slipped back into professional mode. “They’re driving down on Friday with all their gear. They’re staying at my parents’ house, which is all sorts of weird. I’m normally very strict with my boundaries between work and home, but I’m bending them like crazy of late. I’m calling it the Mistletoe effect. Or maybe the Ruby O’Connell effect. I can’t quite decide.”
That perked Ruby up. She couldn’t help but grin as she swapped the phone from one ear to the other. “My support band are staying with your parents? That’s brilliant. Also, really fantastic of them. I’ll tell them thanks when I see them. I called in on them this lunchtime, by the way. Your Dad was baking again and the house smelt delicious. Your Pop was watching a Christmas movie and weeping, although he denied it, telling me he just had something in his eye. I don’t think you need to worry.”
“I’m looking forward to baked goods at the weekend,” Fran replied. “I just want you to know, Saturday is a priority, okay? It’s just, the label have been so helpful with your gig, I want to help them out with Fast Forward.”
Ruby winced: it would sting more than she could let on if Fran didn’t make it. “I understand. Anyway, I better get back. I left Mum on my till.”
“I gotta run, too. Delilah’s just come back in the office after speaking to the band. Give my love to everyone and I can’t wait to see you at the weekend.”
Ruby pocketed her phone, then stared into space, before dropping onto the sofa. She’d known what she was getting into with Fran. She had a big job that she cared about, and it had always been in London. That hadn’t changed. Plus, someone who cared about their job was a good quality in a person. However, if Fran didn’t make it back, Ruby couldn’t deny she’d be gutted. What’s more, since this had been Fran’s idea in the first place, Ruby would also be a little hurt and disappointed. She wanted to sing for the farm, but she also wanted to do it for Fran. For them. It mattered.
Why would Fran say she could make it, help Ruby to organise it, and then not turn up? It wouldn’t make any sense. If that happened, it would tell Ruby that Fran was still entrenched in the corporate world, putting her job first: above friends and family.
Ruby blew out a breath. She was catastrophising. Whatever happened, this gig was going ahead. With luck, Fran would be there. She’d promised to do everything she could to do so.
Fran hadn’t bailed on her yet.
Ruby should give her a chance.
Even if she was meeting up with her ex for dinner.
Chapter 24
Fran stood in front of a poster of Fast Forward. In it, their posture was loose and their confidence shone. What’s more, every performance they’d done, they’d smashed it. Getting them to believe they were doing a great job was the trick. Fran tapped her phone to get the latest charts. They were still number three. They were never going to beat Skinny YouTube Boy and his novelty song about wheelbarrows, but Cupboard Boy was there for the taking.
Fran wanted to do it for young women everywhere. To show them they could compete with the boys and achieve their dreams. From being somewhat dismissive of the group at first, Fran was now willing them to succeed. Plus, she’d never had a hand in a Christmas hit. That would be a novel achievement.
A loud cheer from the other team across the office caught her attention. They were unwrapping their Secret Santa gifts. A bottle of wine was held aloft, followed by some pink, fur-covered handcuffs, and a tin of biscuits. Quite the combo. Fran pondered the order of use. Post-handcuff biscuits or post-handcuff wine? She’d plump for both.
The biscuits took Fran right back to Ruby. To their ill-fated car journey, the start of the thaw in their relationship. It was only just over two weeks ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. That contraband biscuit had tasted delicious, one of the few things Fran ate that day. But it wasn’t as delicious as what had happened since. Getting to know Ruby and then sleeping with her on Monday. To
day was Thursday. Fran could just picture Ruby selling trees in the barn, a blur of people and activity.
Did she have any more messages from Ruby? Nothing since last night, when Ruby had messaged saying Eric wasn’t well and they’d had to postpone their rehearsal until today. Ruby was fretting that she wasn’t going to be as prepared for Saturday as she should be.
Fran wasn’t worried: she’d seen Ruby perform. Ruby had the pedigree, the experience, and Mistletoe was the perfect stepping stone. Fran was sure once Ruby took the leap, she wouldn’t stop there. Ruby was stronger than she gave herself credit for. Fran hoped the same could be said for Fast Forward in the months and years to come.
She sat and dialled home. It was a daily practice since leaving Mistletoe, one that thrilled and bemused her parents. “We’re only in our 60s, not heading towards death anytime soon,” Dad had told her.
“Hello, daughter dear.” Pop breathed out and groaned, which told Fran he’d hobbled to a chair for her call.
“How’s your leg?”
“Still attached,” he replied.
“I hope you’re sitting down when you’re in your studio.” When he was fit, Pop loved to stride about while creating.
“For the most part. Don’t worry, your Dad makes sure of that. How are things going with your girl group?”
“Pretty good, I hope. They might even make number one.”
“That would be incredible,” Pop replied. “Ruby was here this morning, checking on us. She’s dropping in her chicken and pasta bake later. She said to ask you for the secret ingredients that make it delicious. Do you know them?”
A warmth washed through Fran at how thoughtful Ruby was. “Parmesan and cream. Gird your loins and don’t take your cholesterol level the next day.”
“My mouth’s watering already.” Pop paused. “By the way, is everything okay with you two?”
Fran sat up. “I think so. I hope so. Why?” The hairs on her arm stood to attention.
“Because I saw some photos of you and Delilah online today and Ruby looked a little glum when she came around at lunchtime. I didn’t say anything, but if I were her, I’d be put out.”
