Clara's Last Christmas (Clara Andrews Series - Book 9)

by Lacey London

  ‘Rise and shine, guys! The Morgan house is about to get festive…’

  Keep calm and let it snow…

  Chapter 2

  Burying my cold nose into the collar of my trusty parka coat, I shuffle around on the world’s most uncomfortable bar stool and wait for Lianna to finish rambling. She has been talking so animatedly for the past thirty minutes that I haven’t had a chance to get a word in sideways. Not that I can complain, I guess there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

  We have been at the Christmas markets for well over an hour and in that time we have drunk three mugs of mulled wine and devoured two giant baked potatoes, but we still haven’t managed to settle on a single business venture. To be fair, the many stalls of yummy food and decadent drinks have proved to be quite the distraction and if you can’t indulge a little at Christmas, when can you?

  Kicking my legs in a lame attempt at breathing some life back into my frozen toes, I rock back and forth on my seat and scan my surroundings. The quaint wooden stalls are shielded with candy cane inspired marquees, each one offering something fabulously festive. From the hand-painted baubles to the mouth-watering macaroons, you could spend hours here and still find something new to indulge in. It’s crazy to think that the other eleven months of the year this exact spot is occupied by nothing more than the odd busker and perhaps a stray cat.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Lianna finally pauses for breath and leans back on her stool, drumming her impeccably manicured fingernails on the table as she waits for me to respond.

  Staring at the detailed documents in front of me, I bite my lip and frown. This is the fifth business venture we have discussed today and I hate to say it, but I think it’s the worst one yet. Not wanting to annoy her by dismissing it immediately, I take a sip of my spicy wine and pretend to be lost in thought. This would be a whole lot easier if I weren’t running on autopilot. The effects of the caffeine overload I inhaled this morning are being washed away with every sip of alcohol that passes my lips and I am getting very concerned that I could drift off at any given moment.

  Exhaling impatiently, Lianna tosses her silver hair over her shoulder and raises her eyebrows at me expectantly. Only Li could pull off a full head of grey curls without looking like an eccentric pensioner. Since she returned from Barbados, Lianna has rocked, pink, blue and now silver hair. It’s hard to believe that beneath the layers of vibrant colour is a beautiful, natural blonde. The woman that sits in front of me is so different to the girl I once knew. Not in a bad way, of course. It’s just that I have spent most my adult life looking out for her and to see her now as the successful, married, millionaire that she is makes me the proudest BFF in the world, even if she does make silly business decisions.

  ‘Well?’ She presses, folding her arms and scowling like a tantrum throwing toddler. ‘If you think it’s stupid, just say.’

  ‘It’s stupid.’ I fire back, dropping the papers down onto the table with a thud. ‘I genuinely think it’s a terrible idea.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Li looks at me as though I have lost my mind and scoffs. ‘It’s almost an exact replica of The Hangout!’

  ‘Exactly!’ I shuffle closer to the heater and discreetly eye up the stand of gingerbread men on the stall opposite. ‘That’s the problem.’

  ‘How could that ever be a problem?’ She retorts, looking into her mug and pushing it away when she realises that it’s empty. ‘The Hangout was a huge success! We could use the same business model to recreate it here! We could draw up the same menu, we could put on midnight beach parties…’

  I let out a laugh and reach for my wine. ‘Do you really think that people are going to be stripping off and swigging rum punch on Brighton beach?’ Lianna stares at me for a moment, a wave of doubt flashing across her perfectly made-up face. ‘A barefoot bar on a Caribbean island will always be a success, but this is England, Li. We’re lucky if we manage to get through July without seeing a splash of rain. That kind of venue just doesn’t work in this climate.’ I purse my lips and glance down at the business plan. ‘Just think about it, the bar would be out of action for most of the year…’

  Right on cue sleet starts to fall from the sky, as though backing up my argument. Watching the black concrete disappear beneath the sheet of slush, I pretend not to hear Lianna rapping her knuckles on the table in annoyance. I know that she’s getting fed up of searching, but what kind of friend would I be to encourage her to invest in a business that I believe will fail?

  ‘Why is this so hard?’ She eventually whines, holding her head in her hands and letting out a whimper. ‘I have a million pounds! One million big ones! How can I not know what to do with it?’

  A couple of young lads in hoodies at the beer tent behind us glance over and I shoot her a glare. ‘Do you want to say that a little louder? I don’t think the delinquents at the bar heard you…’

  She rolls her eyes and motions to the barman to bring us more drinks. Grateful to have had half a second of eye contact, his chubby face breaks into a smile as his cheeks flush hot pink. Standing to attention, he grabs a bottle of wine and flashes her the thumbs up sign. I shake my head and drain the contents of my mug. Lianna is one of those infuriatingly beautiful women who really isn’t aware of just how stunning she really is. Even though she’s now off the market, Lianna is still not short of admirers. I play with the sleeve of my coat and look at my gorgeous friend carefully. The incredible tan that she brought home with her has finally started to fade and the freckles that adorned the bridge of her nose for months seem to have done a disappearing act too. Her long legs and annoying flat stomach seem to get more toned every time I see her, even though she hasn’t stepped foot in a gym in years. If I didn’t love her like a sister, I could so easily hate her.

  ‘You know what this is like?’ She muses, pulling a nude lipstick out of her pocket and applying a thick layer to her lips.

  ‘What?’ I stretch my arms above my head and swallow yet another yawn.

  ‘This is like when you go shopping before pay day and see so many things that you want…’ She motions with her hands to emphasise her point and I nod along. ‘But when you finally see those all-important numbers in your bank account, those things that you thought you wanted so badly seem to have vanished from the shelves. Do you know what I am saying?’

  I stifle a giggle and tuck a stray curl behind my ear. She does have a point. We’ve all had those conversations before of how we would spend a million pounds, haven’t we? Well, Lianna now actually has a million pounds and she doesn’t have a clue what to do with it.

  ‘You could always go back to work and get a regular job?’ I ponder, tapping my foot in time to the Christmas music that is now filling the tent. ‘You don’t have to spend the money if you don’t want to. You could just have a fabulous time living the high life.’

  Li screws up her nose and slams a hand down on the table. ‘Are you kidding me? I would be crazy to return to the daily grind when I have a million pounds in the bank! I might as well give the whole lot away and go back to worrying about my pension pot if I am going to do that.’

  ‘All I am saying is that you don’t have to find a big business venture to splash out on.’ I finger the edge of the plans in front of me and shake my head gently. ‘You could just sit on it for a while whilst you make a decision. There’s no rush. You don’t want to jump into something that could potentially be disastrous…’

  Lianna studies the hefty pile of paperwork carefully before screwing it up and tossing it over her shoulder.

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ She eventually concedes, fluffing up her curls. ‘I always impulse buy, but spending a million pounds without being completely sure about it would be a little crazy even for me.’

  I nod in agreement and silently breathe a sigh of relief. I know from experience that pushing Li too hard in one direction almost always results in her rebelling and doing the exact opposite, so I’m relieved that she has come to this conclusion by herself.

/>   The enamoured barman slides two steaming mugs onto the table and pauses awkwardly to wait for Lianna’s reaction.

  ‘Thanks.’ She mumbles, slipping him a couple of notes and not giving him a second glance. ‘Keep the change.’

  His gaze lands on her beautiful wedding ring and his face falls sadly. Scuttling back off to his bar, he swaps his frown for a grin as a bevy of beauties pour in from the cold street. Typical barman. Always on to the next pretty little thing to walk their way. I have my own horror story involving a rather gorgeous barman, but that’s a tale for another day.

  ‘What time do you have to be at the florist?’ Lianna mumbles, swearing under her breath as she burns her lips on the lava-like drink.

  Groaning as I remember that I actually have work to go to, I glance at my watch and sigh. ‘Not for a couple of hours. Dawn’s been there all day, so I think I’m required more on a baby basis, if you get my drift…’

  As I mentioned earlier, Eve has had me doing everything from choosing middle names to advising on the best anti-stretchmark body creams. I’m beginning to feel like I am the one who is expecting. Just last week she had me investigating the pros and cons of breastfeeding twins, which resulted in our local librarian presuming that it was in fact me who was the mum-to-be. Having to explain that my swollen stomach was down to the fact that I’d just demolished two cheeseburgers was not my finest moment to say the least.

  ‘You know, Vernon suggested that we start flipping properties…’ Lianna muses, popping my thought bubble and bringing me back to earth with a thud.

  ‘I think that’s a great idea!’ I reply, feeling enthusiastic at the first sensible idea she has had in months. ‘With your experience in interior design you could really make that work. You could do some residential properties first and then…’ I trail off as I realise that she doesn’t look sold on the idea in the slightest.

  ‘I dunno…’ Lianna clutches her mug to her chest and shrugs her shoulders. ‘Interior design just doesn’t grab me anymore. I feel like I have done that part of my life with Periwinkle. I want to do something new, something exciting, something that makes me want to dive out of bed in the morning.’

  I flash her a frown and wiggle around to get some feeling back into my very numb bum. ‘And the thought of having a million pounds in the bank doesn’t make you want to do that?’

  Trying not to laugh, she tears the corner off a beer mat and throws it at me. ‘This millionaire life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s actually quite stressful.’

  ‘Stressful?’ I scoff, almost choking on my wine. ‘You have got to be kidding me…’

  ‘It is!’ She protests, taking out a compact mirror and fluffing up her hair. ‘Every single day I find myself worrying about what we’re going to do with it.’

  I stare at her as I try to work out if she’s joking. ‘Oh, what problems you have…’

  Li hits me on the arm playfully as a giggle escapes her lips. Grabbing my handbag, I check my phone for any messages and slide off my stool.

  ‘You’re not having another?’ She asks, straining her neck to see the cocktail menu.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got to go to work, remember? We’re not all millionaires…’ Dropping a handful of spare change into the charity collection, I squeeze past a gathering of girls who are clinking mugs together happily.

  ‘You’re close enough!’ She retorts, zipping up her leather jacket and pushing me towards the exit. ‘That luxury apartment of yours must have cost a pretty penny…’

  My cheeks flush violently and I link my arm through hers. ‘Anyway, I need to hit the shops before I head to the florist. I haven’t bought a single gift yet and I’m starting to freak out.’

  Dodging a mound of sleet, Li pauses to look in the window of Vivienne Westwood. ‘I’m just going to buy everyone Bollinger this year and have done with it.’

  ‘Even the kids?’ I shoot her a dubious glance and join the line of people who are waiting to cross the busy street.

  ‘Yes. They can save it until they’re eighteen. Then it will be vintage, which is even better.’

  Shaking my head, I dig my gloves out of my handbag as we run across the road. I’m never the most organised of people, but to leave it this late in the day to buy gifts is pushing things even by my standards. We pass a group of elves who are trying to coax passing kids into a toy store with the promise of a letter from Santa Claus. One by one their little faces light up as their flustered parents finally give in and allow themselves to be dragged across the threshold. Whether they like it or not, Christmas is coming and there’s nothing they can do about it…

  Snowflakes are kisses from heaven…

  Chapter 3

  Pushing open the door to Floral Fizz, I blow a strand of hair out of my face as the familiar chime twinkles loudly. After our alcohol-fuelled business meeting earlier, Li and I hit the shops for some much-needed Christmas gifts. Despite her insistence that she would be handing out bottles of bubbles on December twenty-fifth, Lianna braved the toy store and abused her plastic. She looked like the modern-day Mrs Christmas walking through the shopping centre with two giant red sacks over her shoulder. I glance down at my own shopping and have to admit that I haven’t done badly either. Prada perfume for my mother, a new watch for Oliver and an Ann Summers gift set for my mother-in-law… don’t ask.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Eve exclaims, popping her head out onto the shop floor. ‘I was expecting you here an hour ago!’

  Dropping my collection of bags on the floor, I shake off my coat and lean against the wall. ‘I know, I’m so sorry. I got a little carried away…’

  ‘I can see that.’ Eve’s gaze lands on the glossy carrier bags and she immediately abandons the tub of olives she’s holding to search through them.

  For the past few weeks, Eve has done nothing but eat olives for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Seriously, from morning until night she snacks on any olives that she can get her hands on. Black olives stuffed with garlic, green olives dressed in oregano… you name it and Eve has devoured it. I even caught her eating tapenade straight from the jar last week. She tried to hide it, but the stench of anchovies that followed her around all day gave her away.

  Squeezing her perfect bump past a stand of mistletoe, she plucks a paper bag from the stash and pulls out Oliver’s watch. With Eve expecting twins, you would think that she would be showing by now, but you could be forgiven for thinking that her bloating is nothing more than the after effects of a big lunch. My mind flits back to my own pregnancy and I can’t help but feel a little envious. Unlike Eve, I seemed to swell to twice my normal size by the first trimester. Although the fact that I craved McDonald’s milkshakes instead of olives might have something to do with it.

  ‘You look adorable.’ I remark, taking in her pink t-shirt and old school dungarees. ‘Is that maternity?’

  ‘It is. I got it from Model Mama on Smith Street. Do you like it?’ Twirling around, Eve strikes a pose as though she’s on a catwalk. ‘It’s a little on the large side, but I’m only going to get bigger, right?’

  ‘Right!’ I confirm, placing a hand on her ridiculously tiny stomach. ‘When I was pregnant, I don’t think I was seen in anything other than a black pair of leggings for nine months straight.’

  Eve takes a perfume set out of one of the bags and attempts to sniff the box. ‘I can’t wait to get to the stage where I don’t fit in any of my clothes.’

  I raise my eyebrows and let out a chuckle. ‘I’ll remind you of that…’

  As Eve checks out the Ann Summers kit uncertainly, I take a moment to scan the florist. The seasonal decorations have been up for a while now, but I am only just taking a moment to stop and appreciate them. Due to a rather horrible stomach bug, I wasn’t involved in decorating the shop, but Eve and Dawn have done a fabulous job. The once pink and silver florist is now adorned in beautiful shades of rich reds and gold. Mistletoe displays fill every window and the icicle inspired lights that hang delicately from the cei
ling provide the perfect finishing touch. Just as I am losing myself in my glittering surroundings, a tiny voice pops my thought bubble.

  ‘Clara?’

  Spinning around, I smile happily as my co-worker and good friend, Dawn, appears in the doorway to the workshop.

  ‘Hi!’ I exclaim. ‘How are you?’ Tearing myself away from the window decorations, I hold open my arms for a hug.

  ‘I’m great!’ Dawn squeezes me tightly and I get a waft of her familiar perfume. ‘I was meaning to call you. Hugh and I finally set a date!’

  ‘You have?’ I squeal, clapping my hands together excitedly. ‘When?’

  ‘December twenty-first!’ Eve chips in with her nose in my bags. ‘Isn’t that amazing? They’re going to have a Christmas wedding!’

  Dawn nods along and her snowflake earrings jangle gently. ‘You know we wanted to do it sooner rather than later and a date came up so we thought, let’s go for it!’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ I do a quick mental calculation of the dates. ‘So, just over two weeks!’

  Dawn and Hugh got engaged a few months back after a whirlwind relationship. At first I was rather sceptical. I mean, love and lust are very different things and yet so often confused, but Hugh and Dawn really do seem to be head over heels in love. After spending a few weeks trying to plan the perfect wedding, Dawn quickly realised that a big, traditional knees-up just wasn’t for her. Thankfully, Hugh felt the same and they agreed on a quick and simple winter ceremony.

  Deciding that she’s had enough of rifling through my new purchases, Eve holds out a hand to be helped to her feet.

  ‘Whilst I have the two of you together, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about…’ Dawn mumbles, playing with her solitaire engagement ring nervously.

  Exchanging concerned glances with Eve, my stomach flutters as Dawn looks down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.