by Daisy James
I am grateful for the opportunity you gave us to consider your new product line for inclusion in our Autumn/Winter Collection. Our buyer loved the hand-knitted sample sweater you provided and even more so the story behind its production. We pride ourselves on having a discerning clientele whom we believe would appreciate not only the beauty of the design but the local origins of the natural fibres and dyes used in the final product and the fact that each item is hand-crafted and therefore unique.
I wonder if initially we could discuss the supply of the Fair Isle sweater in a palette of colours to be agreed upon in consultation with yourselves and our designers. If our collaboration is successful we would be looking to move on to working with you on the design of other hand-crafted items, such as Aran sweaters, matching hats and scarves, and even Christmas-themed jumpers.
Congratulations, Ms Henshaw. Perhaps you could contact our Mr Gallagher to arrange for him to visit one your Cupcakes & Couture classes and maybe even take part.
With Warmest Wishes,
George Gallagher
Head of Collaborations’
Callie raised her eyes from the precious piece of parchment in her hands that secured the future of Gingerberry, maybe even of Callie-Louise, for years to come. But the reaction from her audience was muted, with none of the celebratory whoops she had expected. The sea of faces in front of her wore a blank, confused expression and her elation at making the announcement seeped from her veins.
‘What?’
‘Well, that’s lovely, dear,’ offered Iris, scooting her wheelchair forward to give Callie a hug.
‘But…’
Marc swung his head from left to right, squeezed Jacob’s hand and then stood up from the sofa. He drew Callie into his cologne-infused embrace before twisting the letter from her fingers and scanning its contents.
‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What Callie has neglected to tell you, peeps, is that this letter is from Liberty’s – only the most wonderful department store in the whole of the UK! Wow! Congratulations, everyone! Jacob – get those knitting needles clicking. We are about to become internationally renowned crafters for Liberty’s!’
And at last the room erupted into cries of delight, interspersed with a few tears of joy. After hugging everyone, twice, Callie managed to slip out of the shop and call Scarlet, the instigator of the whole project.
‘Wow, Callie, that’s fabulous news! I’m thrilled for Gingerberry. Maybe I should put my order in now for my emerald and cream one before your prices skyrocket!’
‘It’ll be my treat, Scarlet. If it hadn’t been for you and your jumper…’
‘This is your project, Callie. Yours and the Cupcakes & Couture gang’s! Enjoy it! And I thought my news would be what got the champagne corks popping today!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just had a call, not five minutes ago, from Bianca Farietelli. She loved the hand-sewn silk teddies you sent over. Wants to talk to you about supplying our Callie-Louise Bridal lingerie via her luxury boutique in Knightsbridge.’
‘Oh, my God, I don’t think my heart can take any more!’ Callie’s throat tightened around a lump the size of a golf ball.
‘When are you coming back to Pimlico, Callie? It’s just that… well, Jules has tickets for Mamma Mia! and he’s asked if I’d like to go with him and I thought…’
Callie laughed. She knew something was developing between the two of them. She was relieved as it made her next few words much easier.
‘Scarlet, how would you feel about becoming my partner? I’ve decided to keep Gingerberry and I’ll be shuttling between London and Yorkshire for the foreseeable future. I need someone I can trust implicitly in the driving seat at Callie-Louise. What do you say?’
‘What do I say? I erm… Oh, Callie, yes, yes, yes!’
‘Before you make any commitment, I want you to know that I’m thinking of asking Flora to help me out with Gingerberry, so she’ll be away from Callie-Louise a fair bit.’
Scarlet laughed. ‘You know she’ll jump at the chance to spend more time in Yorkshire with a certain handsome former war photographer! You are the most thoughtful, considerate friend I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, Callie. Thank you.’
‘See you tomorrow. Let’s get this dress of the decade finished!’
Chapter Twenty-Six
The excitement at Callie-Louise Bridal had reached fever pitch. Even Jules had joined in with the gossip, speculating on what type of headpiece he would have designed for Lilac if he’d been commissioned, adamant that he wasn’t in the slightest bit jealous of Callie, Scarlet and Flora, not one smidgeon.
The constant frenzy of finalising Lilac’s wedding gown, as well as her honeymoon lingerie, kept Callie’s inner turmoil at bay. The gown was being collected that afternoon to be transported to the hotel in York and she was hanging on to lucidity by her fingertips. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. As usual, she was constantly stalked by the spectre of insomnia and only able to drift off to sleep when slumped on the sofa in her apartment above Callie-Louise in the welcoming arms of her old friends Jack and Daniel, and even then she was never granted oblivion for more than five hours each night.
Her skin had taken on a flaky texture. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her diet consisted mainly of sporadic injections of caffeine and the occasional round of toast that Scarlet forced on her when it looked like she was going to faint. If she hadn’t had the wedding to distract her, she knew she’d have been looking at her sanity in the rear-view mirror.
Delia and the Cupcakes & Couture gang had done her proud. Under Delia’s astute direction they had not only completed every part of Lilac’s lingerie order to perfection but had also almost finished the blanket they intended to donate to the Heppleton hospice in memory of Hannah. Callie had promised to drive straight from the wedding ceremony to Allthorpe so they could do this final task as a group over a few bottles of Prosecco and a feast of Tom’s wedding cupcakes.
Tom had insisted they accept his generous gift after he’d received the good news that he was to be engaged to deliver a ‘Cool Cupcake Cooks’ after-school club at St Hilda’s starting in September. Enthusiasm for his new venture exuded from his pores and his usually self-deprecating demeanour had gone into hiding.
And Tom wasn’t the only one to have undergone a personality change over the last couple of months. If Callie had been surprised to see the transformation in Tom, it was nothing compared to her reaction to Martha’s metamorphosis from the shy, blushing caterpillar she had first met to the vibrant, confident butterfly she had turned into. She had invested in a pair of tortoiseshell glasses and taken to wearing her hair piled on the crown of her head, teased into a mini beehive –courtesy of Marietta’s ultra-trendy hand.
But it was the phone call she had received that morning from Marcia that had blown her away. She hadn’t known whether to indulge in tears of pride or descend into a maelstrom of hilarity.
‘The letter arrived this morning, Callie. I can’t believe it’s real and not a dream! I never thought anyone would be passionate enough about my writing to take me on. Me, Marcia Jane Brown, or should I say, Clementine Johnson?’ Marcia had giggled and the sound had lightened Callie’s heart. ‘It’s all thanks to you, Callie. You persuaded me to submit. You had confidence in my writing when I didn’t.’
‘Well, come on – read it out, then.’ Callie had broken off from squinting at the ragged hem of one of the wedding garters Scarlet had rejected and leaned back against her work table as she waited to hear Marcia’s most fabulous, but well-deserved news.
‘Dear Miss Brown,
Re: “The Lustful Lancelot” by Clementine Johnson.
Thank you for your recent submission of the full-length manuscript of the above novel. You have a unique voice and your writing style held my attention from the very first line. The plot line gripped me and the passion bursts from the pages as the story progresses. The characters are well rounded and sympathetically drawn and I am con
fident the novel, despite being your first in the erotic romance genre, will find commercial success.
I would therefore like to offer you a three-book deal with Entraped Erotica Press, the subsequent two perhaps as sequels to your first. Erotica is a new imprint for us, but one which is finding popularity with our readers, and your novels would enhance our current catalogue.
We suggest you ask your agent to contact us so we can further our negotiations and agree an acceptable advance.
Congratulations, Miss Brown. We look forward to a long and fruitful working relationship with Clementine Johnson.
Yours sincerely,
Jasper Smithson
Callie’s heart had ballooned at the pleasure and exuberance that had filtered down the telephone line from Marcia that day.
‘Callie? Callie? Call for you. It’s Theo Drake. Again!’ called Flora, waving the office phone at Callie from across the studio.
Scarlet flashed Flora a scorching look. ‘Flora, didn’t you hear Callie…’
‘It’s okay, Scarlet, it’s not Flora’s fault,’ sighed Callie as she sat back on her heels and wriggled her aching shoulders. She tucked her grown-out bob behind her ears and turned to face the youngest member of their team. ‘Flora, please just tell him that I’m busy with a client.’
‘But,’ Flora covered the mouthpiece with her palm, ‘he begged me to put you on. He says he’s calling from Germany. And, well, it’s Theo Drake… of The Razorclaws!’
Callie couldn’t prevent a wan smile from breaching her lips. When she’d explained to Flora, after avoiding three calls in one day, that she did not want to speak to Theo, Flora’s expression had been a picture of confusion.
‘But why not? He’s gorgeous!’ she blurted.
‘Yes, he is, Flora. But he wants me to meet him for a drink and I don’t have time.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why can’t you speak to him and tell him that yourself?’
Callie had shot a glance at Scarlet who had come to her rescue. She’d gently led Flora away to explain in as few words as possible that Callie did not want to see Theo, nor did she want to speak to him. So, whenever he rang, she was to say, as convincingly as she could, that Callie was busy with a client and couldn’t be disturbed. Sadly, Flora would never win any theatrical accolades for lead role in a mystery drama, as each time Theo rang the salon she had stuttered and stammered an increasingly bizarre list of excuses.
After listening to Flora stumble through another one of her epic deliveries and hang up the receiver, Scarlet turned to Callie.
‘Why don’t you just speak to him, Cal?’ she urged. ‘You don’t have to see him, but the guy sure is keen to speak to you. I thought you said you wanted to be friends?’
‘There’s no point. I’ve explored every possible scenario until my brain cells disintegrate and my head is ready to explode. I can’t put myself through the torture of seeing Theo enveloped in the arms of some stranger who’s managed to wangle her way into his dressing room or hotel room. And how can I go touring with him? Not only do I have a business to run here, which I might add is going to get a hell of a lot busier after Saturday, but there’s Gingerberry, too.’
‘Delia has managed okay these last few months, and didn’t you say that Marcia is helping out part-time, too?’
‘Yes, they are both amazing, but I’m not sure the situation will work long-term. Marcia has a publishing contract now. And did I tell you she and Tom have been out on a date? I can’t commute between Pimlico and Allthorpe and then disappear off on tour with the band whenever it suits! Delia is going to need more than just a part-time helper if the lingerie side of things takes off after the wedding.’
‘Then employ someone to help her full-time. I could maybe do the occasional trip.’
‘You are the best right-hand woman a fashion designer could wish for, Scarlet. You’ve been fantastic. You are also one of my most treasured friends,’ Callie said, collecting Scarlet into a hug. ‘I know you think I should give Theo a chance, but I also know that if I did agree to meet him, even just for a drink, all the memories would come flooding back and lessen my resolve. I can’t allow that, I can’t. I’ve worked too hard and suffered too much pain these last three years to risk a repeat. And whilst we’re on the subject, I’ve made a decision. I want you to set me up on a date with that cousin of yours after the wedding is out of the way. I have to move on.’
Scarlet studied Callie. ‘Well, okay, if you’re sure.’
‘I am.’ Callie turned away from her friend’s scrutiny, laced as it was with a soupçon of suspicion. She knew she didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care. ‘Okay, no mistakes this time. The courier is due in twenty minutes and I’ll sign the paperwork myself.’
It was Friday afternoon. As soon as the gown had been safely dispatched, she was heading over to King’s Cross with Scarlet to catch the train up to York. They’d been booked into the same luxury country manor hotel as Lilac and her entourage. She intended to carry out any final tweaks that evening and then grab an early night. They would be needed at six the following morning to dress Lilac.
‘You’re still adamant you’re not going to the reception at Harewood House?’
‘Yep, but you have to go, Scarlet. It’ll be some party! A hundred and fifty guests, most of them celebrities from the film and music industry. There’s even a rumour that Colin Firth will be there with his wife. You can’t miss it.’
‘Neither can you.’
‘I can’t go, Scarlet. I don’t want to chance bumping into Theo.’
‘But you won’t. He’s performing. He’ll be backstage. You can stay upstairs if you really want to. Or hide out in the pantry under the stairs.’
‘I’ve made up my mind.’
‘Oh, God, not the classic Callie-Louise chin thrust. That stubborn streak is something you need to work on, Cal. Why can’t you just make friends with Theo. Okay, I get why you don’t want to get back together with him romantically, but it might make things easier if you agreed to stay friends? Instead of carrying all this hurt and sadness around in your handbag – just offload it, be friends and move on.’
‘Like he has?’
‘Callie, we’ve been through this. And Theo’s explained it himself. He’s a rock singer, in a famous band. There are going to be times when girls throw themselves at him. If you weren’t so in love with him, you’d be able to understand this.’
‘I’m not in love with him.’
‘Oh, please, Callie. Anyone can see that you are.’
Two hours later Callie found herself staring out of the grimy train window at the fields of wheat and yellow rapeseed, punctuated by the occasional squat farmhouse and barn. Just one more day to get through and then she could return to her normal life. She gritted her teeth and prayed that her personal guardian angel had returned to her customary position – after four months’ unauthorised sabbatical – to make sure Lilac agreed to Scarlet assisting with her dress before she made her grand entrance down the sweeping staircase at her reception at Harewood House, so she could grab the next train back to the anonymity of London.
That night, as the coppery hue of the sky sank over the horizon like a flickering flame in the nub of a candle, and darkness pressed its velvety veil against the windows of the country manor house, Callie drifted gratefully into the arms of oblivion that sleep offered. As Theo’s familiar features swam across a tableau of reminiscences and dreams, she knew for certain that, despite the passage of time, she would always love him and tears dripped down her nose and onto the cotton pillowcase.
But her final thoughts were reserved for sending up a soft prayer that her mum, and Aunt Hannah, would have been proud of what their daughter and niece had achieved.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was a magnificent day for a wedding. The sky displayed a panorama of uninterrupted cerulean blue. A light breeze tickled along the rooftops carrying with it the scent of summer warmth and excitement. Shafts of multicoloured light spun through the
spectacular Rose Window of York Minster sending a dancing kaleidoscope of colour around the assembled congregation. It was as though the celestial angels had decided to join in the ceremony, too.
A whole battalion of street vendors had lined the city’s ancient thoroughfares selling flags, china mugs and printed tea towels. Everyone and their uncle had taken the celebration of Lilac Verbois and Finn Marchant’s union to their hearts.
Lilac had been overwhelmed with excitement whilst being dressed that morning by Callie and Scarlet. Her mother had dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tiny lace handkerchief as she drew her famous daughter in her arms and hugged her tightly. As Callie and Scarlet put the final touches to her fairy-tale gown, Lilac took a sip from a flute of Dom Pérignon and giggled.
‘Would you believe I’m nervous? York Minster is a much scarier arena than any film set or theatre stage I’ve been on. It’s even worse than first-night nerves. The butterflies in my stomach are doing a happy dance, though. You know, I adore my dress, Callie. This day is the culmination of all my dreams. I love my career but I love Finn more, and this is going to be the best day of my life when I finally get to hear him say “I will” at the altar of my perfect wedding venue.’
If Lilac was nervous, it was nothing compared to what Tish was feeling. She had been buzzing around like a hyperactive wasp since five-thirty that morning. Her sting was pretty painful, too. But everything was on track, scrupulously organised thanks to the myriad lists she and Nikki had worked on together. She whizzed between suites of the country manor on the outskirts of York, a clipboard clutched to her chest as she directed operations like a debutante film director. So far, every aspect of the morning had been beautifully choreographed.
Callie excused herself from the bridal preparations and returned to the suite reserved for Callie-Louise with a circular box in the signature navy-blue-and-gold stripes of the Jules Gallieri Millinery Emporium, which she presented to Scarlet along with a hug.
‘Scarlet, I think now is the right time to give you this.’
