by Karen Clarke
‘You’re a hero,’ Annabel shouted to Ollie, as if her memory had been wiped and she’d completely forgotten our encounter in The Anchor. ‘Come back any time, you’ll always be welcome.’
There was a chorus of ‘hear, hears’ and Ollie gave a modest bow, before pulling me forward and placing his arm around me. ‘I’ve had an amazing time, thanks to this wonderful lady,’ he said. ‘Be nice to her, or I’ll come back and annoy the hell out of you all.’
There was a quiver of laughter, and I noticed Mr Flannery navigating the festive inflatables in the garden next door. He was leaving the Lamberts’ house, which was remarkably unscathed, apart from the boarded-up window where the curtains had caught fire, and some smoke damage around the frame.
‘What’s he up to?’ I said, seeing his shifty expression.
‘Saw what happened on the news, this morning,’ he called, pushing through my gate to join the assembled neighbours in the frost-tipped garden. ‘Just wanted to check they were OK.’
‘Oh.’
He looked shifty, even when he was being nice. ‘I told Barry, ages ago, to just come out and tell folk.’
‘You knew?’ I said.
‘Saw him with a cross-dressing mate in John Lewis, buying underwear.’ He jabbed his hands in his anorak pockets. ‘Said I wouldn’t say anything, if that’s what he wanted.’
I could only gawp, while Doris gave him a huffy look, presumably because he’d found something out before she had.
‘We don’t need to discuss it any further,’ she said, adding without irony, ‘it’s really none of our business.’
As if on cue, the Lamberts’ front door opened and Barry and Sheelagh materialised arm-in-arm, like royalty putting on a brave front after a scandal had rocked the family. As they came into the garden, another cheer went up, and Sheelagh looked as if she might explode into tears.
Barry kept his head high as he came forward, and he shook Ollie’s hand without looking as if he’d like to snap his arm off. ‘Just wanted to thank you for last night,’ he said gruffly. There was a trace of lipstick at the corner of his mouth, but in his trench coat and bandana he was very much the male version of himself. ‘There wasn’t any need to shoulder the door down and throw me about like that, but’ – he glanced around, almost meeting people’s eyes – ‘I reckon you did me a favour.’
Sheelagh took hold of my hand and lowered her voice. ‘I called our Bryony to tell her what had happened and she’s flying home today,’ she said.
‘Oh, Sheelagh, that’s wonderful.’
‘Thank you for inviting Ollie to stay.’ She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. ‘We’ll never forget what you did for us.’
‘The pleasure was all mine, Loretta,’ said Ollie graciously, and there was another smattering of applause. The crowd parted to let him walk to the gate, where he paused to blow me a kiss before going to the car and slinging his bag in the boot.
‘He’ll have a Jesus complex after this,’ said Erin. ‘I’d better go and say a proper goodbye.’
She shot after him, and the neighbours jostled around as he bundled Erin inside the car, like a celebrity hiding his girlfriend from the paparazzi.
‘He’s forgotten his trumpet!’ she called, as he dived into the back seat after her and slammed the door.
I followed Craig inside and through to the living room, where the case was standing by the Christmas tree. ‘I can’t believe he forgot it,’ I said, feeling awkward.
‘No,’ said Craig, and I felt a powerful surge of emotion as I realised Ollie had left it on purpose to give us a moment alone.
Craig seemed to realise it too as he levelled his gaze to mine.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ I blurted out. I couldn’t let him go without asking.
‘Of course not.’ His clear eyes widened. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘But…’ I thought you liked me sounded childish. ‘You’ve been off with me since last night.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not denying it. ‘It’s just that, when you told Annabel off in the pub… it reminded me, you got badly hurt not so long ago.’
‘I did,’ I said quickly. ‘But, to be honest, it was more what happened after the relationship ended than the break-up itself.’ I had a feeling my face was brick-red but ploughed on, ‘You probably overheard my mum telling Ollie about my encounter with Max’s wife.’
He dropped his gaze and nodded. ‘I also heard you tell her that you had no intention of having another relationship, that you just wanted casual flings—’
‘I didn’t kiss Ollie,’ I burst out. ‘I nearly did, but it didn’t feel right.’
He lifted his head, a smile touching his eyes. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Though I wouldn’t blame you if you had. I’d probably kiss him myself if I was a girl.’
I gave a shaky laugh. ‘So…?’
He grew serious. ‘I don’t want to have a fling with you.’
‘Oh.’ My heart was thundering in my chest. ‘Well, that’s fine,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t about to cry, desperately reminding myself that I barely knew him. OK, so I thought we’d forged a bond, and had a connection, but it was obviously one-sided.
He took a step closer. ‘What I mean is, I’d want more than a fling.’
‘Oh?’ My heart picked up speed again.
He reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers round mine, and their warmth flowed through me. ‘I’ve had the best time, this week.’
‘Me too.’ Elation blossomed in my chest. ‘Fire’s featured a lot,’ I said, hearing a crackle of burning logs in the grate. He must have got up early to get it going.
‘It has.’ A smile spread across his face. ‘There’s probably something meaningful in that, but I can’t think what it is.’
Outside, a car horn blasted.
Craig tightened his grip on my hand. ‘I suppose I’d better get going.’
I didn’t want to let go, or for the moment to end. ‘You’ll call me?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded firmly, keeping his eyes on mine. ‘I’ve got your number.’
‘You have?’
‘I got Ollie to get it off Erin before we came here. I tried to ring to let you know we were coming, but Ollie grabbed my phone off me and threw it in the back of the car.’
I remembered the missed call I’d deleted, and laughed. ‘That’s such an Ollie thing to do.’
‘It was,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll put you in touch with that illustrator, too.’
‘That would be good.’ Oh god, we were being polite now. ‘I’d better let you go.’
‘For now.’ Releasing my hand, he picked up Ollie’s trumpet case, and after one last look he left, closing the front door behind him.
I stayed rooted to the spot, staring at nothing, until the doorbell chimed and I nearly shot out of my skin.
‘I forgot something,’ Craig said, breathing hard, something green and leafy crushed in one hand. Behind him, Ollie and Erin were grinning at me from the car, and I could see Doris handing out muffins to the neighbours who were waiting to wave goodbye.
‘Your camera?’ I said, confused.
‘No, this.’ Stepping forward, he placed his lips on mine, and I had no hesitation in winding my arms around him and pulling him close, our bodies slotting together with perfect precision. We came up for air to the sound of cheering and a shout of ‘get a room’, and Craig’s arms tightened around my waist. ‘Ollie gave me his mistletoe and said I should make good use of it,’ he murmured.
‘I don’t really think we need it, do you?’
As he lowered his mouth to mine again, Erin hurried over to prise us apart.
‘Children are watching,’ she said. ‘Take Ollie home before he gets his trumpet out, and that’s not a euphemism.’
Craig gave me a long look and I knew he was reading in my eyes all the things I wanted to say. ‘I’ll be back,’ he promised, cupping my chin with his hand.
‘You’d better be,’ was all I could manage.
; He jogged to the car and I joined Erin and the others at the gate to wave them off, happiness racing through me.
As they pulled away it started to snow, and the neighbours began drifting off with friendly goodbyes. Sheelagh dabbed her eyes as Barry led her next door with a tender arm around her shoulders, and Doris said she had to get home because her friend, Ellen Partridge, was coming over for lunch.
‘Well, that was intense,’ said Erin, when we were back inside. ‘What the hell’s happened to us?’
‘I don’t know, but I like it.’ I felt lighter than I had in a long time, and my face ached from smiling.
‘And who’s this little fellow?’
Marmite was on the arm of the sofa, calmly washing his paws.
‘Ah, that’s my inspiration for Sabrina the Magic Cat.’ I thought of how Marmite had alerted the Lamberts to the fire next door, probably saving their lives, and leading to Barry’s secret being revealed. ‘I think he might actually be magic,’ I said.
Erin pulled a face. ‘Enough of that shite. Let’s get dressed and go into town,’ she said, patting Marmite’s head. ‘I want to buy a wreath for your door from that flower stall I saw yesterday, and some bon-bons from the sweet shop, and maybe we can feed the seagulls.’
‘It’s illegal to feed the seagulls.’
‘You’re such a killjoy,’ she joked. ‘Maybe you can show me that castle where your brother once got lost.’
I grinned. ‘Sounds good,’ I said, remembering there was still something I had to do. ‘Just give me a few minutes.’
I found my phone in the kitchen and saw that I had a text.
‘Look after my headphones until I get back ☺ C XX’
Smiling, I saw they were still on the worktop, where I’d left them the day before, and as I picked them up and hooked them round my neck, I noticed they’d been lying on a sheet of crumpled paper. Pulling it forward, I went clammy as I recognised my handwriting. Jessica’s cupcakes were the envy of all her friends. ‘You should open your own café,’ her friend Craig Carl kept saying. He was the biggest fan of her baking and never stopped trying to encourage her— Oh god, he must have found my awful effort screwed up by the bin. ‘If you find a job you love, you’ll never work a day in your life,’ he was fond of saying… Craig had heavily underlined the quote in black ink, and surrounded it with arrows. Re-reading it, my eyes prickled with tears.
‘Message understood ☺ L XX’
I replied, thinking how much Dad would have liked Craig. I could almost sense him with me, smiling his approval.
Wiping a hand over my eyes, I did what I’d intended to do since the night before, when the decision had slid into my head. I called a number I’d memorised without realising, my gaze moving to the window, where snowflakes were brushing against the glass.
Maybe we’d have a white Christmas this year, after all.
‘Jill?’ I said, when she picked up. ‘I’d like to accept the job.’
* * *
If you enjoyed joining Lily’s adventures in gorgeous Shipley, you’ll love The Beachside Sweet Shop by Karen Clarke, a hilarious comedy full of friendship, romance and pick ’n’ mix. Get it now!
The Beachside Sweet Shop
Chocolate fudge, butterscotch and raspberry bonbons… treat yourself to some sugary treats, a big slice of friendship and a sprinkling of romance at The Beachside Sweet Shop.
* * *
When Marnie Appleton inherited a sweet shop from her grandfather she was determined to do his legacy proud. The shop has been a much-loved feature of the little seaside town of Shipley for years, but now Marnie needs to bring it up to date, and she’s recruited gorgeous new assistant Josh to help.
* * *
Marnie gets busy redecorating the shop and choosing delicious new sweets to stock, but things are never that simple: new neighbour Isobel, a fame-hungry blogger, is on a crusade against sugar, and she’ll go to any lengths to secure bad publicity for Marnie’s shop.
* * *
Marnie fights back with homemade sugar-free treats, but with her best friend Beth heavily pregnant, her grandmother Celia recovering from an operation, and her very recently ex-boyfriend Alex returning to Shipley with a new love, Marnie has a lot on her plate.
* * *
And then there’s Josh, with whom Marnie is struggling to keep her relationship strictly professional…Will both the sweet shop and love flourish?
* * *
Available now!
* * *
A deliciously heartwarming read about family, friends and handmade coconut ice. Perfect for fans of Cressida McLaughlin, Debbie Johnson, and Tilly Tennant.
Karen’s email sign up
If you enjoyed The Beachside Christmas, and want to keep up-to-date with all Karen Clarke’s latest releases, you can sign up here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Also by Karen Clarke
The Beachside Sweet Shop
The Beachside Flower Stall
The Beachside Christmas Lights Society
* * *
Being Brooke Simmons
My Future Husband
Put a Spell on You
The Beachside Flower Stall
A feel good romantic comedy
Out now!
* * *
A heartening and uplifting read about lost love, true friendship, and blossoming romance. Perfect for fans of Cressida McLaughlin, Cathy Bramley, and Debbie Johnson.
* * *
Carrie Dashwood fled Dorset ten years ago when her best friend Megan stole her love, local heart-throb Tom. Now she’s back to help run her aunt Ruby’s flower stall in idyllic Shipley.
* * *
Trying to persuade herself that her feelings for Tom are in the past, Carrie plans to avoid him and Megan completely. But it’s not to be, because Ruby’s Blooms are arranging the flowers for Megan and Tom’s wedding.
* * *
Soon Carrie’s crawling under the stall to hide and accidentally inventing an imaginary boyfriend... But with the stall’s finances in jeopardy and Ruby needing her niece more than ever, Carrie has to keep her emotions in check.
* * *
With bouquets to arrange, family secrets to uncover, and Tom unavoidably a part of her life again, can Carrie keep her cool, save the stall, and find her very own happy ever after?
* * *
Available now.
A letter from Karen
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read The Beachside Christmas. If you enjoyed it, and want to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, you can sign up here. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
It was a joy for me to return to Shipley for the final time, and to write a Christmas story, as Christmas is my favourite time of year. I have happy childhood memories of trying to stay awake on Christmas Eve, hoping to catch Santa delivering my presents (I never did).
In recent years there’s been an explosion of Christmas light displays around where I live, with people seemingly competing to outdo each other, and it got me thinking about how easily it could get out of hand, and even lead to neighbours falling out.
A show in America called The Great Christmas Light Fight was a fun source of inspiration, and was particularly helpful when it came to setting a Christmassy mood, since I wrote most of the story during a heatwave!
We don’t often get a white Christmas, but I wanted to leave the snow softly falling on Shipley as I said goodbye to my characters.
I hope you loved The Beachside Christmas. If you did, I would be very grateful if you could write a review. I’d love to know what you think, and reviews make such a difference to new readers who are discovering one of my books for the first time.
I love hearing from my readers – you can get in touch on my Facebook page, through Twitter, Goodreads, or my website.
Thanks,
Karen
www.writewritingwritten.blogspot.com
Acknowledge
ments
A lot of people are involved in making a book, and I would like to thank the brilliant team at Bookouture for making it happen. Particular thanks to my wonderful editor, Abi, for her clever and insightful comments; to Anne for her seamless copy-editing; Emma for the gorgeous cover; and Kim Nash, for spreading the word.
Special thanks to Larissa Wainman for her very helpful snippets about primary-school teaching, and Fiona at Christmas Direct for explaining what happens when a town’s Christmas tree lights are switched on.
As ever, I owe my lovely readers a massive thank you, as well as the blogging community, whose reviews are a labour of love, and Amanda Brittany, for her tireless feedback and friendship.
And last, but never least, thank you to my family and friends for their constant encouragement, my children, Amy, Martin and Liam, for their unwavering support, and my husband Tim for everything – I couldn’t do it without you.
Published by Bookouture
* * *
An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment, London EC4Y 0DZ
* * *
www.bookouture.com
Copyright © Karen Clarke 2017
* * *
Karen Clarke has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
