A Very Lucky Christmas

by A Very Lucky Christmas (retail) (epub)

  A Very Lucky Christmas

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Love at the Northern Lights

  Copyright

  For my beautiful daughter

  Chapter 1

  Daisy knew something was afoot. Freddie had been acting furtively (if that was the right word to describe how he appeared to have a smile playing about his lips when he didn’t think she was watching, or the way he caught her gaze and swiftly looked away), and all the while he seemed to be on the verge of saying ‘surprise!’ or ‘ta dah!’, and this had been going on ever since yesterday, when he’d suggested they go out to dinner.

  ‘Wear something nice,’ he’d said, and she wasn’t quite sure how to take it. Did he mean she didn’t usually wear nice things, or did he want her to wear something extra nice, as in special nice?

  Daisy settled on the latter, especially when he told her they were going to Botelli’s, the quite upmarket and rather expensive Italian restaurant she’d been semi-hinting at going to for weeks, ever since it opened. She wondered what the occasion might be, because Freddie didn’t much like going out to eat. He claimed he had enough of restaurants as a result of having to entertain clients every five minutes, and he usually wanted to eat at his house, with him doing the cooking because Daisy, he so often said, could burn water. And he usually ate off a tray on his lap, while watching TV.

  She understood, she really did. He had to be sociable all day, because of his job, talking and being pleasant and entertaining, so when he came home he wanted peace and quiet, and some time and space to recharge his batteries. As a consequence, they usually spent the evenings snuggled together on the sofa, with him in charge of the remote control, until Daisy started to nod and made noises about going home, and waited for him to suggest she stayed the night. Or not, because he often didn’t suggest anything. She enjoyed snuggling and flopping about on the sofa, but not all the time. It would be nice to go out once in a while, and tonight looked as though it might be a very good night indeed!

  As she scoured her wardrobe, she pulled out one dress after another, adding them to the discarded heap on her bed. Her mother would have a fit when she saw the mess, but Daisy didn’t care. She had butterflies in her stomach and a sense of excited anticipation, which had grown throughout the day. Let her mother shout; nothing could dampen Daisy’s mood, because she had a feeling she knew why Freddie was taking her to Botelli’s. At least, she hoped she did.

  They’d been dating for just over a year, Daisy spending more and more time in Freddie’s three-bed semi (built just last year, he was fond of telling her), than she spent at her own house, or rather, her mum’s, because at nearly twenty-seven, Daisy was still living at home with her mum and her younger brother, though David was saving hard to buy his own place.

  Daisy kept meaning to get a home of her own and, like her brother, was putting money aside every month towards a deposit, but it was so much harder for a girl, she decided, when there were all those lovely clothes, and shoes, and handbags, and other assorted stuff she simply couldn’t live without. They called “buy me” and it was rare for her to ignore their insidious little voices so, as a result, she always had far less to put in the proverbial piggy bank than her brother put in his.

  It didn’t help that Daisy worked slap-bang in the city centre, and what else was a girl supposed to do in her lunch hour but shop? She had to pop out of the office for food, so it was only natural to browse. Each time she left the office she swore she was only going to window shop, and nearly every day she bought a little something: an eyeshadow in just the right shade of nude, a gorgeous bottle of perfume, a pair of shoes she simply had to have because they went brilliantly with the dress she’d bought last week.

  Hence the mountain of clothes on her bed, some of which she’d hardly worn (okay, make that never, in a couple of cases), and there still wasn’t anything suitable in the squashed and over-crowded wardrobe. Nothing that said “Yes, of course I’ll marry you”, because wasn’t that the whole purpose of this special meal tonight? It must be! Daisy could think of no other reason for Freddie to fork out for a meal in such an expensive place unless he was going to ask her to marry him.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Mrs Freddie Lakeland. Mrs Lakeland. Daisy Lakeland. She had a teenagery urge to write her “new” name, just to see how it looked on paper. Soon, if she was right (and she was certain she must be), she’d be writing it for real.

  Ah, this might do. Not too flashy, not too understated. She held the peachy-coloured dress up to her chin and looked in the mirror. She really should have bought something new, but she hadn’t managed to find anything she liked, or anything suitable. The shops were in between seasons, full of sale stuff, all shorts and little tee shirts, with the occasional splash of autumn colours on the one and only rail of new stock – and those only had jumpers and cord short skirts on them, which was lovely for a walk in the park on a chilly Sunday morning, but not for getting engaged in.

  This particular dress was one she’d worn before, but not for a long time and Freddie had never seen it. She’d bought it for a friend’s wedding (wedding! she squealed), and wondered if anyone would remember her wearing it when she posted photos of her engagement ring on Facebook and Instagram. Maybe, but if she angled the shot so not much of the dress showed, no one would be able to see it clearly, and anyway, the only thing anyone would really have eyes for, was the diamond on the third finger of her left hand. Oh, she hoped he’d already bought the ring, but knowing Freddie he was just as likely to propose, then expect her to choose her own, because he wouldn’t want to get it wrong and risk buying something she didn’t like.

  She tried the dress on, relieved to find it still fitted, though she might have to eat sparingly. Anything more than a crumb would make her stomach stick out, and the dress was already quite snug. Pity – it was a shame to go to a place like Botelli’s and not be able to stuff her face until she burst.

  Her tummy did a little roll of anticipation, and she guessed she might be too excited to eat, anyway.

  When would he do it? After the main course? After the dessert? He might have arranged for the ring to be hidden in the tiramisu… no, not that, because he couldn’t guarantee what she’d choose, and he wasn’t the alpha male type to order for her. He was far too considerate for that!

  When the coffee was served then, maybe that would be when Freddie would propose. Or maybe he’d order a bottle of champagne and the ring would be in the bottom of the glass. Ooh, she hoped it would be that one, because it was so romantic.

  She took great care in straightening her hair (it tended to kink h
alfway down its length) and applied her make-up with a light hand (she didn’t want to look as though she’d dressed to go to a nightclub). She wanted to look naturally radiant, exactly like a bride-to-be should look, elegant and classy.

  Almost ready, she stood in front of the full-length mirror, twisting this way and that, worrying if her bum looked big. Pah! Big bums were in, weren’t they, and anyway, it wasn’t that big. Not really. If her boobs were a bit bigger, she’d be more in proportion, so she tried hiking them up and pushing them out, but the dress wasn’t very forgiving. She thought about changing her bra, but the underwear she had on was a matching set, only a shade deeper than the dress. She hoped Freddie would get a good look at it before he switched the light off – Freddie didn’t like making love with the light on, though he had been known to light a candle or two when he was feeling particularly romantic, bless him!

  Rummaging around in the bottom of the wardrobe, Daisy came up with a pair of shoes which would go rather well, and she had a bag somewhere, the clutch that she’d bought at the same time as the dress. One more thing – jewellery. A pair of fake diamond studs and a silver heart-shaped necklace would do the trick, but before she put them on, she removed the little gold ring her great-gran had given her. The only ring she intended to wear tonight was the one Freddie was going to present her with. She didn’t want anything to detract from her engagement ring in the hundreds of photos she intended to post tomorrow.

  She wondered how her mother would react to the news. The women in her family hadn’t had much luck with men and her nan, especially, seemed to be allergic to them. Men made her face go all red and started her off on a rant. Only Gee-Gee appeared okay about the idea of boyfriends and marriage, but then, her great-grandmother had done things the traditional way (and more acceptable way, in those days) by getting married first then having the babies, unlike Nan who’d skipped the marriage part totally and had launched herself straight into motherhood without the (dubious) benefit of a husband.

  Daisy’s mum thought all men were a waste of space, her view coloured by the fact that Daisy and David’s father had done a runner when the pair of them were tiny. None of them had clapped eyes on him since, though her mum had received regular payments until David left school.

  So it was left to Daisy to fly the “men aren’t all bastards” banner on behalf of all of the world’s male population – except for David. Her brother didn’t need any help from Daisy because Mum, Nan, and Gee-Gee all thought the sun shone out of his backside.

  Daisy hoped everyone, her mother in particular, would be happy for her.

  Full of barely contained excitement, Daisy skipped down the stairs, shouting, ‘See you tomorrow,’ into the living room. She had no doubt that Freddie would expect her to stay at his house tonight, and “consummate” their engagement.

  Her mother grunted and waved, her attention on Coronation Street, and Daisy knew she wouldn’t get anything else out of her. God forbid anyone who interrupted her mother when she was watching one of her soaps.

  Freddie pulled up, bang on time as always. The surprise on his face when he saw Daisy scurrying out of the front door, handbag in one hand, and coat in the other, was comical. He usually had to wait a good ten minutes before Daisy made an appearance – her mother often said she’d be late for her own funeral, and Freddie would dutifully chuckle, though Daisy could see how much her tardiness annoyed him as he waited, perched uncomfortably on one of the living room chairs. Tonight, Daisy had been too excited to be late, because the sooner they got to the restaurant, the sooner Freddie would ask her to be his wife.

  Eek! Daisy Jones was going to get married. She’d be a wife, and she almost let out a squeal, but held it in because she didn’t want to spoil his surprise. She was meant to know nothing about it, but a woman can tell, can’t she, female intuition and all that. Freddie even came around to her side of the car, opening the door and helping her out, and Daisy decided to believe he was being so attentive and ultra-romantic because tonight was special, and not because her dress was so tight that she had to be hauled out of the car. She must remember to practice getting in and out elegantly, because the BMW sports car was quite low slung and once they were married, she expected them to use his nice shiny car, rather than her old clapped-out hatchback. She made a note to watch some YouTube clips on how Kim Kardashian did it – or maybe not, considering the woman was forever flashing her knickers! Daisy didn’t think Freddie would approve if she flashed hers; he was too up-market and too reserved for such vulgar behaviour.

  The interior of the restaurant was everything she’d imagined it to be (especially since she’d Googled images of it and knew exactly what to expect). But viewing it on her phone wasn’t the same as being there, and she let the elegant, understated atmosphere wash over her. The décor was all white: walls, tablecloths, chairs, and picture frames. The floor was dark, highly polished wood. The glasses and the cutlery shone and twinkled from the lights of the chandeliers, and soft music gave just the right amount of privacy. Fresh flowers were on each table, and waiters and waitresses stood discretely around the room.

  One of the black-trousered, white-shirted staff took her coat, and Freddie nodded at him.

  Was that a signal? Surely the proposal wasn’t going to happen so soon, not before the starters?

  She swallowed convulsively and followed another waiter, who showed them to their table. Once they were seated and had ordered drinks (white wine spritzer for her, because she wanted a clear head to remember every single detail of tonight), she and Freddie perused the menu.

  It was all in Italian.

  Daisy recognised some things, but most of it was gobbledygook.

  ‘What are you having?’ she asked Freddie.

  Tonight he looked particularly handsome in a subtle sort of way. Daisy wouldn’t call him a hunk, but he certainly had hunk tendencies. He liked to go to the gym, and he visited the barber every few weeks (she suspected he had a facial and a manicure while he was there, but she didn’t hold that against him – it was nice to see a man taking care of himself, and male grooming was getting to be a big thing, wasn’t it) and he always dressed nicely. Even his scruffs were clean and non-holey and fitted well, unlike her tattered and shabby lounging-about-the-house gear. Taller than Daisy by a good few inches, Freddie was slim with good shoulders and a suspiciously hair-free chest, leading Daisy to suspect he had a sneaky wax while he was at the barber, and he was clean-cut with an open, honest face.

  That was what had attracted her to him in the beginning – his face. Her gaze had slid over him at first glance, but when he’d spoken and she was forced to give him a second glance, she’d also given him a third. He really was quite attractive in an English-gentleman kind of way. But it was his voice she liked best, well-modulated and slightly husky, it had the power to make her go weak at the knees. The rest of him wasn’t so bad, either. Quite lovely, in fact!

  ‘I fancy the salmone affumicato to start and maybe the vitello al Romana to follow,’ Freddie replied, after a long pause.

  ‘Sounds good. I’ll have the same,’ Daisy said, having absolutely no idea what she was ordering, though the salmone sounded a little like salmon. At least, she thought, if they ate the same things, then one of them wouldn’t stink of garlic and the other wouldn’t be trying to hold their breath when they kissed.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked, stretching his hand across the table to reach to hers.

  ‘Oh, same old, same old.’ She didn’t want to think about work. Right now, work had ceased to exist. All she wanted to think about was their future together. She wanted to talk about it too, but couldn’t until he’d popped the question, because she wasn’t supposed to know, she reminded herself, stamping down on her nerves.

  Would he get down on one knee?

  Ooh, she really hoped he would. Maybe she could discretely pop to the loo and ask a waiter to take a photo at the appropriate moment…

  ‘I’ve landed a new client today,’ Freddie said, st
roking the back of her hand suggestively.

  Her boyfriend wasn’t known for displays of affection, especially public ones, him being a little reserved and all that, so Daisy relished the romance of it and he only let go of her hand when their starters were placed in front of them.

  Thank goodness it was salmon, and though she wasn’t totally in love with it when it was smoked, at least it was something she could eat, and it wasn’t squid or chickens’ feet, or something equally hideous.

  They chatted about Freddie’s job for a while and Daisy told him that Gee-Gee, her great-grandmother, was having to finally move into an old people’s home because Nan couldn’t cope with looking after her anymore.

  ‘She’ll still come to Mum’s for Sunday lunch though,’ Daisy said, as the plates were cleared away. ‘Maybe we could have her round to ours at some point.’

  Oops! She’d almost given the game away. There was no “ours” at the moment, but once they were married there would be, and she couldn’t wait. She desperately wanted to put her own touch on his house. That picture hanging above the fireplace in the lounge needed to go for a start. She didn’t like abstract, and every time she looked at it, she was reminded of a piece of Lego.

  ‘Hmm?’ Freddie hadn’t been listening. He’d been too busy staring at one of the waiters, she noticed, who responded to Freddie’s gaze with a slow wink. Daisy pretended she hadn’t seen anything, but her excitement ratcheted up a notch, and she waited with her heart in her mouth for Freddie to get out of his seat and go down on one knee.

  The main course arrived instead.

  In between that and the dessert, Daisy decided to visit the ladies’ loos, and as she passed by the winking waiter (he’d stopped winking now), she hesitated, before gathering her courage and whispering, ‘When he does it, can you take a photo? I’d give you my phone, but he might notice.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘A photo?’ She mimed holding a camera up to her face and clicking the shutter.

  The waiter gave her a slightly horrified look.

  ‘Oh, yes, right, I’m not supposed to know, am I?’ she babbled. ‘It doesn’t matter. There’ll be plenty of time for photos later, I expect.’ She glanced swiftly back at the table, relieved to see that Freddie was engrossed in his phone. Maybe he was going to ask them to take a photo, though she doubted it – he wasn’t really a photo type of guy, often shying away from her attempts to take selfies of them together, and he positively objected to her sharing any photos of himself on Facebook.