The Summer House of Happiness

by Daisy James

  She stumbled to her feet, her head swaying at the sudden rush of blood to her brain. She dashed through the kitchen door and closed it behind her as quietly as possible. With leaden feet, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, smiling slightly at the gentle snoring coming from her father’s room. She threw her clothes on the floor and slumped down on her bed, images of Max and Scarlet locked in an embrace crashing through her mind.

  At first, she tried to justify her emotional reaction as concern for how Andrews Autos would manage without its skilled and dedicated resident mechanic, but she knew she was being delusional. What she was upset about was the fact that Max had chosen not to mention the fact that he was still involved with Scarlet, who, when she’d heard about their financial problems, had made the journey down from London to persuade him to go back with her so they could make a life together there, in her father’s luxury penthouse, surrounded by luxury cars and invitations to celebrity parties.

  But I thought you and Max were just friends, argued the cantankerous Cupid in the red corner of the relationship ring. What about your unbreakable rule of ‘three-dates-and-it’s-over’?

  At last, Gabbie was forced to accept that she had moved beyond the ‘just friends’ phase. How could she deny the way her body reacted whenever she was around Max? Her senses zinged, there was no other word for it. She was able to see the world in glorious technicolor, notice every new aroma as if for the first time, hear every syllable, taste everything afresh. Their ‘blind date’ had brought her feelings into sharp relief. When she was with Max, there wasn’t just a spark but a Millennium party firework display, and she couldn’t ignore that.

  Trust her to realise she had feelings for Max just as his girlfriend popped up with a proposal he’d be a fool not to go for, especially if the meeting at the bank on Friday didn’t go their way. And even if, by some miracle, her father managed to persuade them to offer him a short-term loan, surely a position in a luxury-car dealership overshadowed anything a small village garage in Devon could offer, even if it did provide shelter for the most fabulous lipstick-red E-Type Jaguar.

  Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to succumb to self-pity. As she welcomed the oblivion sleep offered, she decided the best thing to do was pretend she hadn’t overheard Max and Scarlet’s conversation, and she had no intention of sharing what she had learned with her father until Max told them himself that he was leaving Oakley.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gabbie sat hunched over her ledger, totting up the column of figures for the fifth time. No matter what she did, it was obvious she had fallen well short of her target to raise ten thousand pounds from her Summerhouse of Happiness business. Wearing her sensible hat, she had known it was a tall order, one she shouldn’t really have entertained as achievable, but she had wanted to do it so much that faith had triumphed over reality.

  There was still the possibility that the bank’s small business manager would be impressed by the well-ordered accounts after the haphazard mess her father had previously presented her with, but Gabbie knew she was deluding herself. It all came down to the figures and, whichever way she looked at it, they screamed loud and clear that Andrews Autos was in the red, and without an immediate injection of funds their suppliers would issue debt-recovery proceedings and file for their bankruptcy.

  She had prepared the speech she was going to give at the meeting after she had paid every last penny she owned into the garage’s business account. She would talk about the garage being an important part of the community, providing a service that was invaluable to its residents and other businesses. She had researched the decline of the bus service to Oakley, the high proportion of elderly residents who relied on their vehicles to maintain contact with the outside world, the doctor’s surgery, the hospitals, the supermarket, their family and friends. If that didn’t work, she was simply going to beg for an extension of their overdraft. She had no idea whether she would find an interested or sympathetic audience.

  She knew it was despondency talking, but she had chastised herself for wasting her time over the last two weeks creating little phials of happiness for customers when she should have been concentrating on sending out her CV to potential employers. If she had secured a prestigious job in the perfume industry with a decent salary attached, would that have been enough to sway the bank’s decision?

  Guilt coiled its insidious way through her veins because she knew the reason she had put off her job search was because she wanted to stay in Oakley, not join the London rat race, which was what a career in the perfume industry would entail. Max’s words came back to her and she realised she agreed with him, completely understood his need to remain in the place where he had found happiness.

  Would her decision to focus all her energy on one avenue lead to the loss of her father’s beloved garage and Wil’s livelihood, and Max’s relocation to London with his girlfriend?

  Max hadn’t mentioned his meeting with Scarlet, but she had heard him talking animatedly to Wil about a Bugatti Veyron and assumed he was mulling over the possibility while he waited for the outcome of their appointment with the bank. If it hadn’t been for the fact that her brain was crammed to bursting with more pressing matters, she would have come clean that morning about stumbling on their conversation and offered him an opportunity to talk his decision through. After all, wasn’t that what friends were for?

  ‘Sweetheart, if you search any harder for that elusive pot of gold you’ll go cross-eyed,’ said Jeff with false jollity. ‘We’ll just have to pin on our best smiles and hope for the best. There’s nothing else we can do now.’

  ‘But if we…’

  ‘Look, this shouldn’t be your problem, Gabbie. I got us into this mess, so it should be me who sorts it out.’

  ‘We’re in this together, Dad! I want to help, and I’m really hopeful that with the accounts up-to-date your application for a loan will be considered much more favourably.’

  ‘Maybe,’ muttered Jeff, helping himself to a coffee.

  Gabbie had noticed that as the Friday appointment loomed ever closer, her father’s demeanour had become gradually gloomier. To counteract this, she had maintained an upbeat positivity she knew fooled no one, but what was the alternative? It was the same in the garage workshop, with Wil giving the impression he was waiting for the sad news of a beloved relative’s demise to arrive.

  ‘I think I’ll take this coffee into the living room and catch up on my archery magazine. Promise you’ll join me soon?’

  ‘Promise.’ Gabbie smiled as her father dropped a kiss on her cheek, then jumped as her mobile sprang into life. ‘Mind if I take this?’

  ‘Go right ahead.’

  Gabbie glanced at the screen and called after her father as he made his way out of the garage. ‘It’s Jasmine!’

  ‘Great. Tell her I said hi.’

  ‘Hey, Jazz. How’s things over there in the land of fragrant dreams?’

  ‘Everything’s great! Oh, Gabbie, I’ve missed you. It’s lovely to hear your voice.’

  ‘How’s Marco?’

  ‘Same as ever. Still can’t drag him away from that stupid boat of his. I swear he’s about to sprout flippers! Anyway, I’m ringing with some really exciting news. Marco and I were at this glitzy party in St Tropez at the weekend and guess who we bumped into?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rupert Carrington!’

  ‘Wow, lucky you! I’d love to meet him in the flesh. Is he as gorgeous as everyone says he is?’

  ‘More so!’ laughed Jasmine. ‘I’m not afraid to admit I went weak at the knees the whole time we were chatting. He told us about his new cosmetics range that’s currently in development for next summer. And then he invited us to lunch on his yacht in Antibes.’

  ‘Ah, Jazz, sounds like you both had a fantastic evening. I do miss the buzz of the South of France. Unlike you, I haven’t been beyond the local pub since I got home.’

  ‘How’s the Summerhouse of Happiness doing?’

  ‘I love
it! It’s exactly what I hoped to do with my training. The best bit is seeing the excitement on my clients’ faces after a consultation, and I did have lots of plans to expand into birthday parties, anniversary celebrations, hen nights…’

  ‘Did have?’

  ‘Oh, it’s just some financial stuff going on at the garage. I’m going to shelve the new business for a while and start sending out my CV.’

  ‘Well, I might just have found you the perfect job!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Okay, as you know, the perfume business is a close-knit industry where every single piece of gossip does the rounds several times until it bears little resemblance to the original story.’

  ‘I do know that!’

  ‘Well, word got around that House of Gasnier’s best perfumer, the one-and-only Gabriella Andrews, quit her job and Jules Gasnier had a complete meltdown – rampaging through his studio, tossing around bottles of expensive essential oils and general having a toddler’s tantrum. Rupert asked me if the rumours were true and was that really the way one of the most iconic perfumers in the country conducted himself! I put him right about exactly what had happened and explained to him in great detail why you did what you did that morning.’

  ‘Oh, Jazz, you didn’t.’

  Gabbie groaned, rueful that her friend had never fully developed her discretion gene. If Rupert Carrington, the respected head of the Carrington Cosmetics empire, knew she had walked out of one of the most prestigious perfume houses, then everyone in London would know about it by now and her chances of securing another position in the industry would be all but extinguished. So much for hoping she could find a job to save the garage.

  She realised that, for a few brief seconds, she’d tuned out of what Jasmine was saying. ‘Sorry, Jazz. Can you just say that again?’

  ‘I said Rupert Carrington wants to meet you, Gabbie. Apparently, he’s heard all about you. He even mentioned that prize you won in the summer! Did you know he and Marianne used to date way back when they were both studying at the Sorbonne? She kept that quiet, didn’t she? I can’t wait to grill her on what he used to get up to when he was—’

  ‘Jazz! Jazz! Can we wind back a bit? Did you just say Rupert Carrington, CEO of Carrington Cosmetics, wants to talk to me?’

  ‘Yes, and that he thinks he might have the perfect job for you. Keep up, Gabbie. One of his senior perfumers is getting married next month and she’s just dropped the bombshell that she’s moving to Rio to be a stay-at-home wife to her billionaire husband! Who can blame her? It’ll be hard work spending all that cash!’

  ‘Jazz!’

  ‘Sorry! Anyway, he’s keen to find the right replacement who can slot right in straight away. I mentioned to him that you’d be ideal and he said he’d call Marianne for your details. Stand by your phone, Gabbie. I think your life is about to switch around again. Gosh, I just can’t keep up with all this change. If you get the job, it’ll be much easier for you to hop on a flight from Gatwick down to Grasse or Antibes for a party weekend!’

  Gabbie laughed, her heart ballooning with affection and new possibilities. Could this be the answer to her prayers? Would landing such a position, coupled with an attractive salary, be the catalyst to solving their financial problems? It would mean leaving Oakley, but it would be worth the sacrifice to save the garage. She wished she could give Jasmine a huge hug to show her just how appreciative she was of their friendship.

  ‘Thank you, Jazz. Did I ever tell you what an amazing friend you are? If I can’t run my own business, then I’d absolutely love to work for Rupert Carrington – not to mention the fact that we could really do with the injection of cash.’

  ‘Why?’

  Gabbie gave her the abridged version.

  ‘Well, good luck and I want every single detail of what happens. Okay?’

  ‘Of course. Thanks again, Jazz. I owe you.’

  ‘What are friends for? Love you, Gabbie.’

  ‘Back at you, Jazz.’

  Gabbie disconnected the call and took a moment to enjoy the swirl of excitement that was coursing through her veins. Of course, it wasn’t a done deal, but it was a chink of light at the end of the tunnel.

  She had just jumped up to tell her father the good news when her phone began to buzz again with a withheld number. Her heart clanged against her ribcage and her finger trembled as it hovered over the screen. Could this be Rupert Carrington calling? Surely he wouldn’t ring her so quickly after Jasmine?

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Am I speaking to Gabriella Andrews?’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘Hello, Gabriella. I’m Rupert Carrington, owner of Carrington Cosmetics. I hope you don’t mind but I got your number from a friend of mine, Marianne Dubois. I understand you were a perfumer at House of Gasnier until very recently?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  Gabbie hesitated, unsure whether she should launch in with a full-blown account of what had happened.

  Rupert had obviously heard her pause and laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry. Marianne told me all about Jules Gasnier’s ridiculous behaviour. I’m sorry there are people in our industry who conduct themselves like juvenile delinquents. However, I hope his loss can be turned into our gain as I have a proposition for you. Are you still interested in working in the cosmetics and perfume industry?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ she gushed, a little tongue-tied as the realisation sank in that she was actually having a conversation with the head of one of the most respected London cosmetics brands and hadn’t yet had a chance to do her homework on the company and its mission statement, products and marketing angles.

  ‘Okay, great. Well, we’ve been planning on expanding into men’s cosmetics and eau de colognes for a while now and I think your expertise could be just what we’re looking for to complete our team.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Gabbie heard the slight quiver in her voice.

  ‘I’m in the London office at the moment, but I fly out to Hong Kong at the end of the week, and I’ll be there for a month. Would it be convenient for you to come in for a chat on Friday? I’m a great believer in assessing the whole person, not just what’s on their CV. Carrington’s prides itself on having a happy workforce, with people who enjoy coming into work on a Monday morning. It leads to enhanced creativity, I find. From what Marianne has told me, and indeed what I have gathered from your extremely loyal and very talkative friend, Jasmine, I think you’ll fit right in. Are you interested in working for us?’

  ‘I’d be honoured to work for Carrington’s. Thank you for offering to see me.’

  ‘Okay, then let’s say eleven o’clock on Friday morning. We’ll have a chat and I’ll introduce you to the guy who’ll be heading up the new team. I’ll email you the details. Good to talk to you, Gabriella. I think you have a great future ahead of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She remained at the desk in the office for several minutes, just trying to assimilate everything that had happened in the space of the last ten minutes. Her whole life seemed to have tilted on its axis. Excitement sparkled in her fingertips and she felt lightheaded as future possibilities spun through her head. Working for Rupert Carrington would be a real coup, but the best thing was that, if Friday went well, she would have a job that would bring in some much-needed income to the garage.

  She pushed herself up from her seat, eager to share the good news with her father. She knew he would be thrilled when he heard about the interview she had just landed. Then it hit her with an expected force and she sank back down into her chair like a pricked balloon.

  Oh God! How had she forgotten?

  ‘Hey, still here? So, how was Jasmine? Have you two been gossiping all this time?’

  Gabbie met her father’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, various sentences forming in her brain, only to be discarded and reformed.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is Jasmine okay?’

  Gabbie’s stomach fli
p-flopped when she saw the look of genuine concern on her father’s lined face.

  ‘Jasmine’s fine.’

  ‘Then why are you looking so upset? What’s happened?’

  What was she going to do? There was no way she could call Rupert back and reschedule her interview, but if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to go to the bank with her father and argue his case for a loan to save the business. He’d already tried to persuade them once on his own and it hadn’t worked. What would be different when he asked a second time – apart from the fact that his accounts were now up-to-date and showed quite clearly the precarious financial position Andrews Autos was in? Not to mention the added complication of the outstanding invoice that threatened imminent legal proceedings.

  ‘Gabbie? You’re starting to worry me. Is it…? That wasn’t the doctor’s on the phone, was it?’

  ‘No, Dad! God, no!’ Gabbie was shocked out of her deliberation. Nothing, no conundrum of scheduling, was as bad as what her father had suspected. ‘Actually, it was good news.’

  ‘We could do with a little of that!’

  The details of her two phone calls tumbled out and, as she had expected, her father was delighted.

  ‘Oh, that’s fabulous news, sweetheart. I told you they’d be falling over themselves to get my fabulous daughter on their team. Which company is it?’

  ‘Carrington Cosmetics. Rupert Carrington himself has just called me. He wants to meet me in London on Friday before he heads off to Hong Kong.’

  ‘And is Carrington Cosmetics a similar company to House of Gasnier?’

  ‘Not as established, but it’s British, and a young, dynamic company, keen to broaden its range of products into fragrances for men. It’s an exciting prospect, especially as I’d be with them from the very beginning of the journey.’

  ‘So you could be moving to London?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Gabbie swallowed down on a maelstrom of mixed emotions. In a perfect world, she wanted to stay in Oakley where she could keep an eye on her father and nurture her little business, but this was an opportunity to bring in some money, and work for an innovative company where she could extend her skills into other areas, which would stand her in good stead for the future. She didn’t have to give up on her dreams, just postpone them for a while, and, in the circumstances, it was the best solution she could have hoped for – except for the dreadful timing of the interview.