A Vintage Christmas

by Trisha Ashley

  A Vintage Christmas

  TRISHA ASHLEY

  Copyright

  Published by Avon

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2015

  Copyright © Trisha Ashley 2015

  Trisha Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © September 2015 ISBN: 9780007585465

  Version: 2015–08–18

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  A Vintage Christmas

  A Christmas Cracker extract

  Chapter 1: Bottled

  Chapter 2: Picture This

  Chapter 3: Bang to Rights

  Keep Reading

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  The day I got the good news, Matt had to take the evening surgery at his veterinary practice and by the time he got home the chicken risotto was almost ready and a dark chocolate mousse was chilling in the fridge.

  ‘We’re celebrating?’ he said in surprise, taking in the candles on the table and the open bottle of red wine. ‘I know it isn’t your birthday, but I haven’t missed the anniversary of the day we first met, or something, have I?’

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ I assured him. ‘We’re pushing the boat out because I got the Pet Paradise order and it’s huge! They’re going to take three of my Christmas designs and I’ll have to deliver the stock by the start of November.’

  I’d set up my pet coat company, Dog-Coature, right after I’d left college. It had gone from strength to strength, and I now employed one of my college friends full time, too. However, this was by far the biggest order yet.

  Matt gave me a hug (being big and bear-like, he was good at hugs) and said, ‘Great news! But can you deliver the quantity they require in the timescale, Lucy?’

  ‘I’m sure I can, though of course I’ll still have all the other orders to complete. But Tonya’s already sent off an advert to the local paper for more knitters for the Christmas Critter jumper-coat and I think I’ve got enough pieceworkers for the warm tartan Highland Fling with the kilt pleat detail, and the Angel outfit, because they’re all keen to do extra.’

  ‘Minnie didn’t like the way the wings flapped on the Angel coat,’ he reminded me; I always tried out my designs on our little white Bichon Frise, which we’d got from a nearby dog rescue centre. Hearing her name now, she got up from her comfortable snuggly bed and padded over – or maybe it was the delicious smell of the food that had finally woken her.

  ‘I’ve modified the wings, so they fold in with Velcro,’ I told Matt. ‘Now, you pour the wine while I dish up the risotto.’

  Sitting at the table, we clinked glasses and I said, ‘Here’s to success!’

  ‘To success!’ he echoed. ‘We’re both doing really well, what with your big order and my having been made a partner at the practice.’

  ‘And finding this lovely cottage with the perfect workshop right behind it,’ I agreed.

  ‘So, since everything is working out so well, why don’t we get married?’ he suggested.

  ‘But we are,’ I said, puzzled. ‘I mean, we’d more or less decided on next summer, hadn’t we? And you came up with the idea of a small, vintage-style wedding, which sounds perfect.’

  ‘I know, I’m a genius,’ he said modestly. ‘Though that article about a thrifty wartime wedding you kept shoving under my nose might have had something to do with it.’

  ‘It would be fun, wouldn’t it? And goodness knows, we’ve had lots of experience of upcycling and recycling and making things to furnish the cottage,’ I said. ‘I’d enjoy the challenge of planning the perfect wedding for as little money as possible.’

  ‘Me, too, but we don’t have to wait till next spring or summer.’

  ‘I … suppose not,’ I agreed, thinking about it. ‘But it would have to be later in the year, after I’ve finished the Pet Paradise order.’

  ‘How about just before Christmas, then?’ Matt suggested.

  ‘Well … OK! But we’d better see the vicar and book the church and the village hall straight away,’ I said. ‘Then I’ll tell Mum, who’ll be delighted, while you’ll have to break the awful news to your parents.’

  He grimaced. ‘My mother’s not going to be pleased, that’s for sure.’

  ‘She’s had me down as a gold-digging slut ever since she caught me coming out of your flat the morning after the Freshers’ Ball, and I don’t think she’ll ever change her mind,’ I said wryly.

  Matt had been a second-year student studying veterinary science and had turned up at the ball with a friend whose sister was starting the same textile design course I was. We’d been chalk and cheese, yet from the moment our eyes had met, Matt and I were inseparable.

  ‘I told Mum the truth, that we’d spent the whole night talking to each other, but she didn’t believe me,’ he said. ‘Not that it was any of her business anyway – and trust her to turn up at my student digs at the crack of dawn with an over-the-top Fortnum and Mason hamper, in case her little boy was starving to death.’

  ‘I don’t think it would have made any difference in the long run even if she hadn’t,’ I said. ‘They want you to marry someone with upper-class connections, or a trust fund, or preferably both, not a glassworker’s daughter who did an arts degree and sells dog coats for a living.’

  ‘Very successfully sells dog coats for a living,’ he said, smiling, and we clinked glasses again. ‘I’ve got a free weekend coming up so I’ll go down and tell them and they can either like it or lump it.’

  I thought I could guess which way that one would go! But if having a monster-in-law like Pamela Kenyon was the price I’d have to pay to marry Matt, then I’d grit my teeth and bear it.

  At least my own lovely mum would be pleased that we were finally going to tie the knot … and Dad would have been, too, had he still been around. He’d really liked Matt.

  [#]

  ‘I’ve got some good news, Mum – Matt and I have decided to get married this winter,’ I announced. ‘In fact, he’s down in Tonbridge right now, telling his parents.’

  ‘This winter?’ she said, looking dismayed.

  ‘Yes, just before Christmas. Aren’t you pleased?’ I asked, puzzled. Matt and I had been together now for years, and I knew Mum adored him.

  ‘Of course I’m pleased,’ she said, rallying. ‘It’s only the timing that’s a bit unexpected. When I helped you with the deposit for the cottage out of the money your dad and I had saved for your wedding, you told me that you’d much rather build your business than get married.’

  ‘Well, that was true – and I did. What’s more, I’ve just heard that a big pet store chain is going to stock three of my designs for
Christmas, so I’m going to have to take on more outworkers.’

  ‘That’s great news,’ Mum said, but she still looked troubled.

  ‘I thought you’d be happy we were getting married at last, so what’s bothering you, Mum?’

  ‘Of course I’m delighted, because you’re happy together and I love Matthew like a son. It’s just … your dad and I wanted you to have a dream wedding. That’s why we started saving for it when you were still a baby.’

  ‘I know, and I was really grateful you let me use some of that money for the deposit on the cottage.’

  ‘I knew it was what your dad would have wanted if he’d still been with us, especially when it already had that lovely workshop behind it, so you could stop renting one. But I’ve been putting money back into the wedding fund ever since and I thought I’d have till next summer, at least, to build it up.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, getting up and crossing the room to give her a hug. ‘And there was me thinking that because you were always economising on everything, even though Babs pays you a good salary, you must have been watching too many TV programmes about money-saving and turned into a super-scrimper! And all the time, you were cutting back to fund my wedding.’

  ‘It’ll be worth it when I see you walk down the aisle in a lovely dress, with all our friends and family around us. And then a big reception in a hotel with a proper sit-down dinner …’

  Her expression went dreamy and I suspected that this was the sort of wedding she’d wanted herself, except that her parents hadn’t been able to afford it. But I’d always thought the pictures of Mum’s wedding, she and her bridesmaids wearing home-made dresses and carrying simple sprays of flowers, had looked perfect.

  ‘Mum, I wish you’d told me what you were doing, because even if Matt and I wanted that kind of wedding, which we don’t, we wouldn’t expect you to foot the whole bill! In fact, nowadays the groom’s family often contributes to the expenses, you know.’

  ‘I can’t see Matt’s parents doing that, can you?’ she said with a wry smile. ‘They didn’t even help with the deposit for the cottage, and I’m sure his stuck-up mother is still hoping you’ll break up, even after all these years.’

  ‘You’re right – but they’re going to be disappointed,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know how Matt could have turned into such a nice boy, with parents like that,’ Mum said.

  On the one occasion Mr and Mrs Kenyon had travelled north to see Matthew, I’d thought they should finally meet my mother and got her to invite everyone to tea. Big mistake – Pamela Kenyon had made it clear that a glassworker’s widow-turned-secretary was hardly the sort of person she normally socialised with.

  ‘Matt’s father isn’t so bad when you get him on his own,’ I said, ‘but he lets his wife walk all over him. Matthew says her father was a miner and she was brought up in a small terraced house in the North-east, so her background’s not that much different from ours, really.’

  ‘That’s what I thought the moment she came in, doing her Lady Muck act – all fur coat and no knickers,’ Mum agreed.

  ‘Yes, you told her so!’ I said with a reminiscent grin, because in retrospect the disastrous tea-party had been very funny. Matt’s mother had fired the first salvo, with a sugar-sweet remark on how she’d had to get rid of her own Royal Albert tea service some years before, because they’d got so dreadfully common, but Mum had more than held her own. In fact, looking back over the scene now, I thought she’d won on points, with a sharp, smiling riposte to every sally.

  ‘I wasn’t having her bad-mouthing my daughter and insinuating you’d snared her son, as if being a vet was a hundred times better than getting a first-class degree in fashion and textiles!’

  ‘I know, it’s so odd, because you’d think the pair of them would be able to appreciate the hard work I’ve put into building up my own business, having done the same themselves.’

  Matt’s parents ran a flourishing children’s party supply business, though nowadays Mrs Kenyon’s social aspirations meant she liked to hint that she was Old Money and just running Crate Parties as a little hobby.

  Mum had been pursuing thoughts of her own and now said firmly, ‘I’m determined you’ll have a proper wedding with a fairy-tale dress and a big hotel booked for the reception, because I’ll not have Matthew’s parents thinking we don’t know how to do things right. I’ll take out a small loan to make up the shortfall and if we have a buffet rather than a sit-down meal—’

  ‘No way will I let you take out a loan to give me a huge wedding, Mum!’ I exclaimed. ‘Especially when that’s not the kind Matt and I want anyway.’

  But Mum seemed convinced I was only saying that to save her the expense, and nothing I could say would change her mind. She quickly became lost in a one-sided debate on whether the village church would be big enough for the occasion, or if we should instead book the large, old and beautiful one in nearby Ormskirk.

  ‘It’s so lovely when you’re home, darling,’ Matthew’s mother said, passing him a plate of cucumber sandwiches, which she never seemed to remember he detested. ‘Why don’t you find a veterinary practice down here and move back? Daddy and I would help to buy a partnership.’

  ‘Because I’m happy where I am now, and not only do I like living in West Lancashire, but Lucy and I love our cottage – and we’re getting married in December.’

  His mother’s mouth fell open in dismay, exhibiting thousands of pounds worth of dental implants so white they probably glowed in the dark. ‘Oh, no! I was hoping your unsuitable infatuation was finally wearing off. You could do so much better than a girl who makes dog coats for a living.’

  ‘But if they’re happy together …’ began Gerry Kenyon timidly, only to be quelled by his wife’s gorgon look.

  ‘We are happy, Dad, and though at first we were ploughing money back into Lucy’s business, this last year she’s earned as much as I have and had to take on one of her college friends to help her in the workshop, as well as extra outworkers.’

  ‘That’s very hard to believe,’ Pamela snapped.

  ‘Believe it or not, it’s the truth. And what’s more, she’s just got a huge order from a pet supply chain store, so the business is booming.’

  ‘That’s excellent news – well done, Lucy,’ Gerry said, too interested to think of his wife’s disapproval. ‘Remember when we were just setting up Crate Parties, Pammie? We worked all hours of the day and night to get the business off the ground – but it was fun,’ he added wistfully, suddenly wondering where the girl he’d married had gone … or even if he himself had slowly turned her into the monster she’d become by giving in to her increasing sulks and rages when she didn’t get her own way.

  ‘That was entirely different, Gerry,’ she said coldly. ‘And don’t call me Pammie!’

  Matthew felt sorry for his father, though as always he wished he would stand up for himself more and not be quite such a doormat.

  ‘So, Lucy and I are getting married a couple of weeks before Christmas,’ Matt said firmly. ‘And of course I want you to be there – so long as you treat her and her mother with proper respect.’

  ‘I suppose Mrs Thomas is delighted that her daughter’s marrying a professional man. She’s so dreadfully common that I was surprised to find she had a secretarial job, rather than being a cleaner or some such thing,’ sneered his mother.

  ‘She’s not a secretary, but the personal assistant to a successful local businesswoman, who says she couldn’t manage without her,’ Matt said.

  ‘Really? I find that hard to believe – and I certainly never want to see her again after the things she said to me! I’ve never been spoken to like that in my life!’

  ‘She only gave you back as good as she got. You couldn’t expect her to stand for you being rude about Lucy,’ Matthew said. ‘And I won’t have it, either, because I love her and I’ve become very fond of Mrs Thomas, too.’

  Gerry Kenyon gave his son a look of admiration and, emboldened, said, ‘You’re old
enough to make up your own mind and you’ve been together now for a good ten years, so I’m very happy for you both. And of course we’ll chip in with some of the wedding costs, if Lucy’s mother can’t manage it all herself.’

  ‘We’ll do no such thing, Gerry!’ exclaimed his wife.

  ‘Thanks, Dad, but there’s no need. We’re having a small wedding in the local church and a reception with a buffet in the village hall.’

  ‘I suppose you mean that dreadful woman can’t afford to pay for a proper wedding?’ Pamela said.

  ‘Lucy’s mother has saved since Lucy was born to give her a big wedding, so it’s entirely our choice to have a simpler one.’

  ‘Well, whatever kind it is, if you go ahead you certainly won’t have my blessing, let alone any help in paying for it,’ his mother told him. ‘I couldn’t bear to watch you marrying a girl like that – it would break my heart!’

  ‘Oh, come now, Pammie, you’re going too far,’ Gerry protested. ‘Of course we’ll be there and we’ll at least pay for the honeymoon,’ he insisted.

  Pamela stared at her husband, momentarily silenced by astonishment. It was such a long time since he’d dared to cross her that she’d forgotten he’d ever been capable of it.

  ‘That’s OK, Dad,’ Matthew said cheerfully. ‘We’ve already got everything covered and we’re delaying the honeymoon till spring, when we’re going to tour Cornwall in a vintage Volkswagen campervan. It’s booked and so are the church and village hall.’

  ‘Before you’ve even told us? Nobody considers my feelings!’ Pamela said, employing a handkerchief to dab her dry eyes.

  ‘I didn’t know you had any,’ Matthew snapped, losing patience.

  ‘Matthew! You wouldn’t have said that kind of thing to your mother before you met that girl,’ she said. Then, seeing his expression darken, she added quickly, ‘But I can see you’re set on marrying her, so I suppose we have no choice but to go along with it. You were always stubborn, from being a child.’

 
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