Christmas at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre: A cosy, feel-good romcom with festive sparkle

by Beth Good

  She even told him about her idea for vampire gnomes, and enjoyed seeing him laugh

  Their Yorkshire rarebit arrived, looking and smelling utterly gorgeous, laden with bacon bits and cheesy goodness. After Katy had put the plates in front of them, she lingered, her expression sheepish as she asked, ‘Sorry to disturb you again, Mr Elliott. But can you sign these for the others? They’d love your autograph as well.’ She bit her lip. ‘We don’t tend to get celebrities at the Lucky Parrot, so we need to make the most of it.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said casually. ‘Leave them with me and I’ll sign them when I’ve finished eating.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘Are you really famous?’ Hannah asked suspiciously, glancing at the bundle of napkins and assorted pieces of paper Katy had left on the edge of the table, ‘or is this another of their practical jokes?’

  ‘Wondering whether to join the autograph queue?

  Hannah shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m not into that sort of thing. I might be starstruck if you were a famous gardener, but I’m not much of a film buff. Not like Sam, anyway.’ She narrowed her eyes, studying him. ‘So, you didn’t say. Are you genuinely famous?’

  His eyebrow crooked. ‘I thought I was fairly well-known, until now,’ he admitted, with mild chagrin. ‘But you’re doing an excellent job of deflating my ego.’

  Hannah laughed. ‘I don’t expect it will do you any lasting harm. There are plenty of people fawning over you here. You won’t miss one. Is it always like this?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said candidly. ‘Fans tend to focus on actors, and I’m not often recognised so it’s not too bad.’ He grinned. ‘Except today.’

  ‘We don’t get much excitement here, so I expect they’ll be talking about your visit for ever. I think Mrs Arkwright is the most famous person to visit the Lucky Parrot in the last twenty years. Her claim to fame was winning the first prize for her damson jam at the village fair, ten years in a row. She officially opened the café.’

  Daniel’s crack of laughter made heads turn.

  As she tucked into her tasty rarebit, the potted plants to her right rustled, catching her attention. The fronds of one palm waved as though a breeze had caught them. Katy bustled around at the neighbouring tables, humming to herself as she replaced tablecloths and wiped down seats with what seemed like unnecessary vigour.

  Hannah finished her mouthful and leaned closer to Daniel. ‘So what are you working on at the moment? Can you say?’

  The potted plants rustled again, sounding as though a family of monkeys were hiding in the leaves. Hannah tried to ignore it.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, and swallowed his own mouthful. ‘There’s nothing secret about the project. I’ll be working on a psychological thriller soon, an adaptation of a novel called Forget Her Name. Have you read it?’

  Hannah shook her head.

  ‘It’s very good, you should. Most of the filming will take place on location in London, and in a studio there.’ He named a famous acting couple who would be starring in it. ‘We start filming in eight weeks.’

  She wanted to keep eating, but it was impossible to ignore the excitable waving plants anymore. Hannah turned and said sharply, ‘For goodness’ sake, Sam, please go away. I know you’re behind the plants. Stop eavesdropping. Haven’t you got any work to do?’

  There was a silence.

  Sam appeared from behind the plant display, his spiky head bent, and hurried out of the café without looking at them.

  ‘You too, Katy,’ she continued, and shook her head. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t wiped the wood grain right off those seats.’

  Slightly shamefaced, Katy shuffled back behind the counter and began wiping that instead, watching them from time-to-time with a vaguely resentful air.

  ‘So that’s what you meant about them being pranksters,’ Daniel said, laughing.

  ‘That’s nothing. Wait until I tell you about the hens.’

  ‘Please, tell me now.’

  ‘No.’ Hannah tucked into the Yorkshire rarebit again, savouring the rich taste. ‘My life is very ordinary. Tell me about your films instead.’

  So Daniel told her more about his latest project, and then went on to discuss the scripts he was reading for possible future films. ‘That’s what all those papers were that I managed to scatter everywhere. A film script I’m reading.’

  ‘Is it fun working with famous people?’

  ‘It can be challenging having to deal with big egos, but sometimes it’s very rewarding too. The bottom line is, stars are just normal people underneath, and I’ve made some good friends among the people I’ve worked with. In fact, that’s how I got Woody.’

  She couldn’t place the name immediately. ‘Woody Allen, you mean?’

  ‘God, no. My snake, remember?’ He laughed at her expression. ‘He was a gift from an actress who starred in one of my films.’

  Hannah shuddered. ‘I like most animals, but not snakes. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, you’d like Woody. He’s a real character, and not big enough to be scary. Brown Garter snakes can be escape artists though. One time I was hosting a party with possible producers and funders, and there was this almighty scream from the bathroom. We all went running in and there was the producer’s wife in a hysterical huddle against the wall, and Woody looking at her innocently over the top of the toilet bowl.’

  Hannah laughed at the image of a little brown snake peering out of the toilet. She thought he sounded quite cute.

  ‘You should come over one day and meet him.’

  Hannah looked at him, suddenly uncertain again. ‘Oh, I … ’

  At that moment, Mr Turner scurried past their table, a menu held up to his face as if that would somehow render him invisible. His eyes were turned towards them though, and he stared wide-eyed at Daniel as he went past. A few seconds later, there was a thump and a muffled curse.

  Daniel looked round, distracted.

  Slowly righting a fallen chair, Mr Turner then bent to retrieve the menu, which had skittered under a table, and handed it to a solicitous-looking Katy. Then their boss limped out of the café, rubbing his knee awkwardly and not looking back.

  She met Daniel’s eyes as he turned back, and they both smiled. Then there was a moment of something more between them. A deep gleam of interest that arrested Hannah’s breath and made her forget what she had been going to say. Time seemed to halt, locking them both in some silent moment of acknowledgement, a bubble no one else could penetrate.

  No one except Katy, apparently.

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’

  Hannah scowled at Katy’s interruption but it was too late. The moment was shattered and couldn’t be recaptured.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Daniel said.

  Katy looked pointedly from her watch to Hannah, wiggling her brows as she tried to convey the time to Hannah, who took the hint.

  Damn.

  ‘I’d better get back to work,’ she said, dredging up a cheery smile so he wouldn’t know how she was feeling.

  ‘Of course.’ He stood up. ‘Let me sign these napkins, and pay for lunch. Then I’ll walk you back to your flower bulbs.’

  ‘No, I’d better get back straightaway.’ She hesitated. ‘Thank you for lunch. It was … different.’

  ‘No problem. You were very good company.’ Daniel seemed about to say something else, but then studied her face and nodded. ‘I’ll see you around, then.’

  Then he took out his smart pen, sat down again, and drew the pile of napkins and papers towards him, head already bent.

  With a sigh, Hannah handed her empty plate to a sympathetic Katy, and headed off back to finish sorting bulbs.

  Her lunch idyll with the Hollywood director was over.

  Which was just as well, she told herself sternly, beginning to label spring bulbs upside down with the wrong date, and neither noticing nor caring.

  Daniel had his world, and she had hers. And never the twain shall meet.

  CHAPTER FIVEr />
  ‘Pepper? Pepper? Oh, where are you, you daft cat?’

  It was her afternoon off, and she had intended to spend a few hours on the sofa with Pepper, catching up on her favourite soap. But there was no sign of the cat, and he didn’t even bother to appear when Hannah shook his packet of cat treats. Normally nothing would keep him away once he heard that inviting sound, so he was either too far away to hear it or intent on stalking some defenceless small creature.

  ‘I have better things to do than go cat hunting on my afternoon off,’ Hannah said, grumbling to herself. She peered out of the front door, shaking his treats once more, but to no avail. ‘Well, he’d better not be up to any mischief.’

  Secretly, Hannah was worried about Pepper. He hadn’t been eating as much as usual and he hadn’t even bothered to attack the Christmas tree in recent days. He didn’t seem unwell. His ginger coat gleamed, and he felt as solid as ever, so skipping meals didn’t seem to be doing him any harm. But one night he hadn’t come in at all. That wasn’t like Pepper, who was a home-loving cat, and Hannah didn’t like it.

  She didn’t want to think about what could happen to a cat on a quiet rural road that now had half of London, and the expensive half at that as far as she could tell, zipping up and down it in fast cars. Though Daniel had told her at lunch the other day that his glamorous film friends had all driven back to London now, so she was unlikely to be troubled by more late night screams and party-goers.

  Still, he had not said he wouldn’t have any further visitors at all while house-sitting for Ivy, who would be away on her cruise until Christmas was over.

  ‘Pepper?’

  She hesitated, checking up and down the quiet road. Could he be trapped somewhere? She searched the garden, calling his name with increasing urgency, and punctuating her shouts by shaking his cat treats like maracas.

  She searched the out-houses, and then ventured into the road.

  ‘Pepper?’

  Still nothing.

  Disheartened, she was about to go inside when a splash of ginger in the window of Abbey Villa caught her eye.

  She frowned suspiciously. Was that Pepper?

  Keeping low, she crept a bit closer to her neighbour’s house, sticking to the grassy verge than bordered the drive so the crunch of gravel wouldn’t give away her approach. His car was parked near the front door, so he was almost certainly in. Unless he had gone for a walk. Which was possible, since the weather was cold but sunny today.

  She was getting a bit too good at creeping up this drive, she reflected. But she needed to find Pepper, and she didn’t really want to see Daniel again.

  She was, to say the least, emotionally confused. Or conflicted. Or whatever best described this mild case of the blues. She’d decided, almost before she left him on Monday after their lunch, that a man like Daniel Elliott spelled heartache for her. Perhaps it was cowardly. But there was too much pain in a short affair with a fixed end-by-date, and it was obvious from the way Daniel had talked about his home in London that he loved the buzz of city life, and she wasn’t doing long distance again.

  Simple.

  Besides, he hadn’t been in touch at all since their lunch ‘date’. Which suggested that he had been interested but only fleetingly. Perhaps signing all those napkins had put him off …

  Reaching the front of the house, she stiffened in outrage. It was Pepper in the window. The ginger cat was curled up asleep in a rare shaft of late afternoon sunlight.

  ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding, you traitor.’ Hannah shook the packet of cat treats gently next to the glass. ‘Wake up, Pepper.’

  The cat didn’t move. Deaf even to treats, apparently.

  In desperation, Hannah tapped the glass. As softly as she could, for fear of alerting the occupant of the house to her presence. Not least because she had not brushed her hair since changing out of her work uniform, or put on any make-up, so she probably looked pasty and dishevelled, wearing tatty old jeans and an outsized fisherman’s jumper she’d bought cheap from a charity shop in York. The cable-knit jumper was thick and warm, and she loved it. But she was aware the cream knit wasn’t quite pristine in places, and there was a small but growing hole in the wool under one arm. Hardly the most impressive outfit to wear when there was a chance of encountering a celebrity.

  At her insistent tapping, Pepper finally opened one baleful eye and fixed it on her. She saw the gleam of recognition turn to interest as he spotted the treats.

  Slowly, he stood up and stretched, arching his back.

  ‘That’s right, come on, Pepper. Look what I’ve got for you.’

  Hannah rattled the treats again.

  Pepper looked at them, yawned extravagantly, and then sat down and began grooming himself in the sunshine.

  ‘Oh right, I see.’ Her fingers tightened on the plastic treat packet. ‘I bet he’s been feeding you, hasn’t he?’

  She gritted her teeth. It looked like she was going to have to knock on the door and ask Daniel for help if she wanted her cat back. Which was the last thing she wanted to do, frankly. Daniel hadn’t been in touch since lunch, which had pained her, despite it being for the best. But she could be grown-up about this. Couldn’t she?

  She was not happy to see her cat in his house though. Even if it was technically Ivy’s house, he was in charge of it right now, so this had to be his fault. After all, she thought crossly, friends shouldn’t tempt pets away or encourage them to defect. In fact, Hannah was pretty sure there was a special place reserved in hell for people who bribed pets away from their owners.

  Annoyance buoyed her all the way to the front door.

  She lifted the knocker, meaning to bang it down sharply, but the door swung open under the force of her movement.

  She looked inside. There was nobody in the hall, but she paused, listening.

  ‘Hello?’

  Silence greeted her.

  Perhaps she could simply creep inside and grab Pepper. On second thoughts, she shouldn’t have to kidnap her own cat in such a surreptitious manner. And she had words to say to Daniel about him encouraging Pepper.

  A series of thumps upstairs, and then a loud curse that made her eyes widen, echoed through the house.

  ‘Daniel?’

  Hannah pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, listening intently. There was another muffled curse from upstairs. Yes, definitely Daniel.

  Perhaps he needed help.

  Hannah moved cautiously towards the foot of the stairs. What would he say about her being in his house without having been invited? She put her hand on the carved newel post and peered up, uncertain what to do.

  ‘Come on, you bugger.’

  Startled, Hannah looked behind herself. The door yawned open, the garden and drive empty beyond it. The downstairs of the house seemed unoccupied too, no sound whatsoever from any of the other rooms.

  Was he talking to her?

  ‘Daniel?’

  There was a short pause and then he came to the top of the stairs, staring down at her in amazement. He looked totally edible in black hipster jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt, his hair damp as though he’d recently showered.

  ‘Hannah?’ He sounded blank. ‘What are you doing here?’ His head whipped round, then he lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Look, that doesn’t matter now. Come up here, quick as you can.’

  She swallowed. ‘Up … up there?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely.’ His eyes fixed on hers intently, reminding her oddly of Pepper. ‘I need you.’

  She touched herself on the chest. ‘Me?’ she almost squeaked. ‘You want … me?’

  ‘Do you mind?’ He held out a hand, gesturing her to hurry. ‘I’m desperate, to be honest. Thank god you turned up before … Well, who knows what might have happened. I’ve been going mad up here.’

  She hurried up a few stairs, then stopped midway, frowning, perplexed and a little suspicious. ‘Sorry. Desperate for … for what, exactly?’

  ‘Some help.’

  ‘With what?�
�� She eyed him with a sudden misgiving. ‘Is this a film thing? Because I’m not interested in doing anything smutty.’

  ‘Smu – ?’ He stared, then blinked. ‘Erm, no. It’s nothing like that. Though I could do with another pair of hands. He can be a bit slippery.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘He?’

  Yes, he.’ He turned away, staring along the landing, then glanced back at her in surprise. ‘Didn’t I say? Woody’s loose. My garter snake. So mind how you go.’

  ‘Your … snake … is … loose?’

  He nodded. ‘Hush, not so loud. I’m trying to lure him back into his tank.’

  Hannah still did not move, her feet frozen on the stairs. ‘Does he bite?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m sure he won’t if we’re careful.’ Daniel beckoned her up again. ‘Come on, you’ve arrived just in time. Once we find him, you can help me corner him.’

  ‘Well, I only came to get Pepper. He’s asleep downstairs … I saw him through the window.’ Hannah decided this wasn’t the right time to demand why he had lured her cat into his house. ‘Perhaps I should just grab him and go.’

  ‘Don’t be such a coward. Woody can’t have gone far and we’ll find him together in no time.’

  ‘But a snake – ’

  ‘You can hardly miss him. He’s nearly a metre long.’ Daniel looked at her persuasively. ‘Please? You can take Pepper home afterwards.’

  ‘A metre?’ Her breath caught in her throat and she had to cough, pretending it was a tickle. ‘Good grief. I mean, how do you lose a metre-long snake?’

  ‘I was cleaning his tank out and he did his Houdini act again.’

  There was nothing for it but to help. Unless she wanted to look very unneighbourly indeed. Not to mention a total coward.

  Hannah ran lightly up the carpeted stairs and onto the landing, edging around the bottom of the loft ladder after casting a cautious look up into that dark opening.

  ‘Could he be in the loft?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Daniel said distractedly, turning over a basket of knitting and finding nothing beneath it. ‘Okay, I’m going to go over this floor again. Why don’t you start with the bathroom?’