‘And a total bitch if she doesn’t get her own way.’
There’s a shout from above. ‘Hey, what’s going on? Stop talking about me!’
I laugh. ‘Well, stop listening, then.’
Charlie tightens his hold. ‘I had lunch with Carol yesterday and told her how I felt about you, and we hatched this plan.’
‘But why?’ I’m flattered but puzzled.
He shrugs. ‘I needed to see you. But you can’t just turn up at someone’s house on Christmas Day. Not without a proper invitation. So I went to see your Mum and – yes, she was more than happy to use her newly-honed dramatic skills to encourage you to stay at home until we arrived.’
I grin, remembering Mum’s agitation. ‘I nearly spoilt it all by charging straight over.’
‘Well, anyway, I told her that if all went well, I’d bring the turkey and there’d be five of us for lunch. She thought it was a great plan.’
I smile wryly. ‘I bet she did.’
‘Oi, you bastards! What are you talking about?’
‘None of your business.’ I glance up. She’s leaning on the sill of the open window, her face caught in a feeble ray of December sunshine, and it strikes me suddenly that something fundamental has changed for us. The dynamic is different, somehow. And it’s not just that we are no longer employer and employee. It feels – dare I say it? – like the old times.
The good old times.
‘Do you want your present or not?’ she yells.
I turn to Charlie. ‘You’re not going to go away again, are you?’
He smiles. ‘Never.’
‘Good. Listen, I just need to talk to Carol for a minute.’
‘Okay. I’ll phone my folks from the car and get the turkey in the boot. Then I’ll see you up there.’
‘Whose car is that, by the way?’
‘Mine.’ He shrugs. ‘I wanted to surprise you and I knew you hadn’t seen the Maserati.’
Smiling, I reach up and kiss him.
Then I dash inside and run up the stairs.
Carol’s holding out an envelope. ‘From me to you. To help the – er – budding romance along.’
I giggle, opening the envelope. It contains a return airline ticket to Barcelona, flying out on New Year’s Eve.
My heart starts to beat very fast. ‘Just me?’
‘I bought one for Charlie as well.’ She grins. ‘It was the least I could do.’
I stare at her in astonishment.
‘Carol Ebenetta McGinley, that is uncharacteristically generous of you.’
She looks at me guiltily. ‘Well, I knew I wouldn’t have to pay for the hotel as well, since Charlie actually owns one.’
I hoot with laughter. ‘Well, thank you. New Year in Barcelona with Charlie. I can’t think of a better present.’
‘Oh, shut up. You’re making me feel sick.’
There’s a rap on the door and Charlie walks in.
‘Isn’t it time you stopped gossiping, you two?’ He grins. ‘If we don’t get this turkey in the oven soon, we won’t be eating till midnight.’
‘Champagne first!’ Carol dashes off to the kitchen.
I look at Charlie, suddenly remembering something.
Returning a moment later, I present him with a very speedily-wrapped parcel. ‘Merry Christmas!’
He opens it up, holds Ronald McDonald aloft and laughs. ‘If this is a taste of things to come, I won’t be holding my breath on birthdays.’
Carol comes back with two flutes of fizz. ‘What’s that?’ She stares at Ronald in disgust, hands over the drinks and passes me an envelope. ‘I found that in amongst a pile of junk mail.’
I take the envelope, thinking it’s probably a Christmas card from someone else I’ve forgotten. Oh well, mine will have to arrive late.
I tear it open.
It isn’t a card. It’s a letter from the Walker Gallery.
I read the words but at first they don’t make much sense.
Then when the meaning finally starts to trickle through, I clap my hand over my mouth in excitement.
‘What?’ demands Carol.
I’m staring at them with tears in my eyes but I can’t utter a word.
Carol snatches the letter. ‘Give it here.’
She skims the lines and her eyes light up. ‘Woo-hoo! Listen to this:
“A major department store has expressed interest in your work and would like us to commission you to produce all the baubles for next year’s in-store Christmas trees. We look forward to discussing this at a meeting in the new year …”’
She gapes at me. ‘Oh my God, Bobbie! You’ll be minted!’
I’m still totally speechless. All I can think is: Tim can have his operation at last!
‘Well done, you.’ Charlie murmurs into my hair and wraps an arm round me. ‘I’d like to commission you, too.’
I smile up at him. ‘You mean to make Christmas baubles for your hotels?’
His eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Among other things.’ He pulls me in for another kiss.
I try to bat him away because Carol’s there. But she says, ‘Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll vanish for a minute.’ She gets up. ‘I found a stash of envelopes in your recycling. I’ll cut them up into squares and you can keep them by the phone for messages.’
I laugh. ‘But it’s Christmas Day. I can’t let you do that!’
‘Oh, rubbish.’ She sails out with a little wave.
‘That’s what friends are for.’
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the marvellous Becky and her team at TLC, and author Susannah Waters, who gave such excellent advice in the early days (I still endeavour to steer clear of ‘weasel words’!).
Thanks to Angela, who had the dubious honour of being the first friend I foisted a (fairly mediocre) manuscript on for her opinion. Angela, your enthusiastic response made me keep at it.
With big thanks to Dave for reading my drafts and loving them – even though he’s a bloke and blokes shouldn’t really like rom-coms (and most definitely shouldn’t weep at the emotional bits). And thanks to Pamela, lovely friend of thirty years and most voracious reader I know – I truly value your honest opinions.
With special appreciation to Patricia Hindmarsh for being endlessly supportive and always insisting I would do it. (Those Wednesday pep talks kept me going!)
A big hug for Matthew (though not in front of his mates, obviously) for putting up with a Mum who really hasn’t the first clue about football, scooter parts or tweeting, but nods intelligently as if she does. And remembering my lovely Dad, who kept on telling me I’d be a writer some day. Wish you could be here to share this with me.
A cheer for all the friends and family (too numerous to mention but you know who you are), who supported me and jollied me along during the darker days of baked beans and camping out at the ‘reduced sections’ while I struggled to keep writing – and more importantly, keep our heads above water! Which reminds me, thanks Ian for all the tips on bagging a bargain – your knowledge is awesome, bruv!
Enormous thanks and a big debt of gratitude to Celia Hayley, lovely person and hugely talented editor. (So glad you spotted something that others didn’t.) And a massive thank you to Elly James of HHB Agency, for being an all-round wonderful agent and huge support on the road to publication.
And finally, thanks to the lovely, enthusiastic team at Avon, especially Helen and Lydia. It’s been a real pleasure getting to know you.
About the Book
Catherine Ferguson burst onto the writing scene at the age of nine, anonymously penning a weekly magazine for her five-year-old brother (mysteriously titled the ‘Willy’ comic) and fooling him completely by posting it through the letterbox every Thursday.
Catherine’s continuing love of writing saw her study English at Dundee University and spend her twenties writing for various teenage magazines including Jackie and Blue Jeans and meeting pop stars. She worked as Fiction Editor at Patches magazine (little sister to Jack
ie) before getting serious and becoming a sub-editor on the Dundee Courier & Advertiser. Moving south in her thirties, she set up Surrey Organics, delivering fresh organic produce to people’s homes – and this experience provided the inspiration for her first attempt at writing a full-length novel.
Catherine’s first novel HUMBUG AND HEARTSTRINGS is very loosely based on Dickens’ A CHRISTMAS CAROL and is a clever, modern tale about the price of friendship, the cost of enmity, and the value of love. She lives with her son in Northumberland.
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A hilarious and just-a-little bit heartbreaking festive treat!
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About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Humbugs and Heartstrings Page 31
