by Emma Davies
‘Heavens, Daisy, whatever are you doing? You of all people need to come and hear what I have to say.’
Daisy groaned softly. She would really rather not; much better to pretend it wasn’t happening at all. But she went through into the other room just the same.
Bea wasted no time in taking centre stage once more.
‘Now, as I mentioned, I have some things I would like to say. And I would like to say them without being interrupted – Lawrence, bear that in mind, dear – and I would also like to point out that, despite the fact that you all clearly think I have finally gone and lost my marbles, I have taken a good deal of time to think about all of this and I have considered it very carefully. As such, I would like you to respect my decision. It is final, and I will not be entering into any discussion over it.’
The words have I made myself clear hovered in the air between them.
‘First of all, I would like to apologise to you, Daisy. And I would also like to thank you. You have been my right-hand woman, my confidante, my friend, and the glue that has held Buchanans together for a very long time. Quite simply, I could not have managed without you these last few years, and indeed neither would my little shop. It would have closed long before now had it not been for your loyalty and hard work. I know that what I have to say will affect you as much as the others, if not more, and for that I am sorry. I would like you three boys to recognise that fact before we proceed.’
Daisy blushed bright red as three pairs of eyes turned to scrutinise her. Bertie, as she knew he would be, was the first to react.
‘Hear, hear,’ he said, smiling at her, which made her knees feel weird. Lawrence glowered at her, but quickly changed his expression and gave her a tight smile. Kit gave an odd little wave of his hand.
‘So then, without further ado: I’m sure you’ve all worked out that once I retire there will be no one to run Buchanans. You have all had your part to play in the business but clearly someone has to take the helm… and, as the eldest, Lawrence, it would seem that that mantle should fall to you…’
Daisy’s heart sank as a supercilious smile crept over Lawrence’s face.
‘However…’ Bea held up her hand. ‘However… you all have qualities which make me think you could be up to the task… just as you all have rather less desirable attributes which make me consider that you could not. And yes, Lawrence, that does include you, dear.’
She paused for a moment, frowning. ‘And there is also the fact that none of those things really address something which I have been considering for some while now, and that is the indefinable something that Buchanans needs if it’s ever going to survive. I don’t need to tell you that shops are finding it tough at the moment. Times are changing and we need to change with them, be prepared to take risks, and to think about things a little differently. Whoever takes over the reins will truly need to know what will make Buchanans remain special going into the future, someone who really understands what the business is all about. So, I have come up with a way to help me find that person.’
‘Why do I get the feeling we’re not going to like it…’ muttered Lawrence.
Bea clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Oh, Lawrence, don’t be such a baby. Of course you’re going to like it because it’s going to be such fun.’ She beamed at them all in turn, clearly delighted with herself. ‘And it’s obvious, really, when you think about it. What better way to decide who should run the business than by having a little competition! I want you all to choose a Christmas gift – and whoever chooses most wisely will be the one to whom I shall pass the reins.’
She took a step towards Daisy. ‘And I know that I have a very important birthday coming up, but this gift is not for me… it’s for Daisy.’
Daisy looked up in shock.
‘A gift? But what kind of gift?’ Bertie’s voice was tinged with mild panic.
‘Well an item of jewellery, obviously,’ replied Lawrence, his tone scathing.
Bea smiled. ‘Yes, Bertie dear. It should be an item of jewellery… what kind will be up to you. Now, it can be an item from the shop, or it can be something you design yourself. In which case you don’t need to have the piece made up, but I will need to see drawings, and to know the materials used, together with costings. Whichever option you choose, you have a budget of five thousand pounds. But the absolute, most important, thing is that I shall want to know why you feel it is the perfect gift. In the end that is the only criteria I shall use to make my final judgement.’
There was a stunned silence, during which Daisy had to remind herself to breathe. She could feel all eyes turn on her.
‘Does anybody have any questions?’ asked Bea. ‘Because if you do, ask them now. Other than what I have just told you, there are no further rules and any other considerations will be yours alone. So, to recap – one item of jewellery – five thousand pounds – and the perfect gift. Do all that and the business will be yours. Your gifts should be presented to Daisy at our normal celebrations on Christmas Eve.’
‘But you get to choose which is the best gift, and not Daisy herself?’ asked Kit. ‘How is that fair? Shouldn’t she choose?’
Daisy looked between the two of them, horrified at the thought, but, to her relief, Bea simply smiled. ‘No, because I shall be asking Daisy to help all of you as it is, and to make the poor girl have the final say would just be too much. I don’t want anything to be more difficult than it already is.’
‘But none of us really know Daisy that well,’ said Kit, frowning.
‘Then I suggest you get to know her,’ replied Bea. ‘You have between now and Christmas Eve.’
She looked at her sons in turn. ‘Now, does anyone have any questions? Because if not, I really think we ought to let Daisy get home for the evening.’
Daisy daren’t even look at anyone. She didn’t need to, the air surrounding them was bristling with simmering anger and indignation. An atmosphere that Bea seemed utterly unaware of.
‘I have a question,’ said Lawrence, his deep voice loud in the hushed room.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that this evening’s… turn of events has been rather a surprise. I can understand you wanting to retire, Mother. I can accept, just about, your relationship with someone we know nothing of, but what I find utterly bizarre is this rather childish competition. To pass over the running of Buchanans based on something akin to a parlour game seems foolhardy and completely unfair. Surely having us put forward a proper business plan together with financial forecasts would be a far better way of ascertaining who is fit to run the company?’
Bea fixed him with a steely look. ‘I can see how that might favour you, Lawrence, but perhaps your brothers, less so… And I have made up my mind about this. You each should have a fair and equal chance of winning and I believe my solution provides this. Assuming of course that each of you wishes to enter the competition; there is no rule to say you have to…’
She held Lawrence’s look for a moment and, although he glared at her, it was clear he had nothing more to say. The thoughts in Daisy’s head were rushing around at a breathless pace and she was having enormous trouble trying to catch hold of one for long enough to listen to it. But what would happen to her was not her only worry right now. What did Bea mean when she said the brothers should get to know her? Daisy had no desire to know them any better than she did now. And as for having to ever work with Lawrence… She shook her head. No, she couldn’t bear to even think about it. She had a sudden urge to run, to get as far away from the shop as she could. To return to the quiet calm and order of her little cottage.
As if reading her thoughts, Bea moved forward and swept Daisy into a hug.
‘Now, you must go home, my dear. It’s your day off tomorrow which will give everyone a chance to settle down and then the day after, well, the fun can really begin! Oh, I do so love Christmas.’ She looked around her. ‘I can’t believe that this is going to be my last one here, but I know you
’ll do everything you can to make it extra special, Daisy. I’ve always been able to rely on you.’
Daisy looked about her, speechless. Did Bea even know what she’d done? How could she do that to her when Bea had been the one to save her all those years ago? If it hadn’t been for her… Daisy shuddered to think what would have happened. She felt utterly disconnected from everything, as if she’d been cast adrift.
Mistaking her silence for indecision, Bea gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And you don’t need to worry about closing up. We can take care of that tonight. It’s the least we can do, isn’t it, boys? And have a lovely day tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear all about it.’
Moments later, having collected her coat and bag, Daisy found herself standing outside the front door of the shop, feeling rather lost. She took a step forward, looking about her, surprised to find that the world was still turning, that people were still bustling about their business, and that the huge tree in the square opposite was still sparkling with coloured lights.
She pulled her coat more firmly around her, tilting her head and blinking as something cold landed on her eyelash. Looking up into the sky she could see the first soft flakes of snow drifting down, their shapes illuminated under the glow of the street lamp. The windows of the shops around her twinkled with lights and, just across the street, the market was alive with sounds and smells as the traders packed up for the day, their stalls still gathering crowds.
Daisy watched for a few moments, transfixed by such ordinariness; a scene that she had seen hundreds of times over and yet which this evening seemed to hold such poignancy. It was nearly Christmas; a time of goodwill and good cheer and she was usually its biggest fan. Except that this year it seemed as if everyone had started the festivities without her.
3
Friday 6th December
Nineteen shopping days until Christmas
Daisy already knew where to find Hope Corner Farm. She had seen an advertisement for it a few months ago in the local paper’s wedding pages and, since a flower farm sounded like the most beautiful place on earth, she’d driven over to take a look.
Daisy hadn’t been disappointed. One of the lovely owners had shown her around, explaining that they hadn’t been open for long and not everything they planned was up and running yet, but she’d let Daisy have a look at the field where the flowers were growing in neat rows, bursting with blooms. The owner had also let her take home a huge bouquet for a fraction of the price that it would have cost her elsewhere. ‘Hope Blooms’, they called themselves, and Daisy had smiled at the pun. If she ever got married, she would like to come back and order her wedding flowers from the owner, who funnily enough was called Flora.
Today she was on her way there to learn how to make seasonal decorations, but it had been all she could do to drag herself out of bed. She hadn’t slept at all well and her head was muzzy from lack of sleep and unshed tears. She had seen the course advertised a few weeks ago and had booked it straight away in a surge of Christmassy enthusiasm, but the thought was laughable now.
She had tried to think logically about Bea’s decision last night but, try as she might, she still felt incredibly hurt. Bea had given her the job shortly after she’d left school and they’d hit it off immediately, despite Daisy’s shyness and Bea’s very individual personality. A year turned into two, and then three, and now she had been at Buchanans coming up to eight years.
Daisy had been just as shocked as any of the brothers to learn of Bea’s romance and impending retirement, even though she knew that her boss often did things just because she considered them outlandish and wanted to shock people. More than once Bea had hinted that good things were in the pipeline for Daisy’s future at the shop, but now the time had come and all Bea wanted was for her to act as referee between her three sons, one of whom Daisy would ultimately end up working for. That’s if she even had a job at the end of it all. With Bea leaving and the business failing, it didn’t take a genius to work out what would probably happen. It was every man for himself, and that clearly didn’t include Daisy.
There were another couple of cars already parked at the farm by the time Daisy pulled up in front of the gates, but there was still fifteen minutes to go until the course started. She clenched her fingers into her palms and, inhaling deeply, reminded herself why she was here. Buchanans could wait until tomorrow, otherwise the day off Daisy had so been looking forward to would be a waste. Pulling herself together, she climbed hesitantly from the warmth of her car and looked out across the yard in front of her.
Almost immediately Daisy spotted a tall woman coming towards her, her face lit by a warm smile of greeting. It wasn’t the same person who had shown her round before, but someone at least twenty years older, wearing jeans and a thick red jumper. Hardly the riot of clashing colour and pattern that Flora had worn, but it suited the woman’s tumble of long grey hair and brown eyes. The smile grew even wider as she drew near.
‘Hello,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘I’m Grace. Are you here for the course?’
Daisy nodded, shaking hands. ‘Yes, I’m Daisy Turner. I hope I’m not too early. It’s a bit of a habit of mine, I’m afraid.’
‘Is it?’ replied Grace. ‘Mine too actually. Hence why I’m hovering looking for people. Flora said no one would turn up until the last minute… but…’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘I knew there’d be people like me.’ She smiled, instantly putting Daisy at ease. ‘Why don’t you come on down and you can get settled in out of the cold. Have a drink too if you’d like.’
She led the way across the yard, giving Daisy her first opportunity to look around. When she had visited in the summer there had been flowers everywhere she looked but even now, in the middle of winter, the place was still full of colour. A line of half a dozen Christmas trees stood in bright coloured pots along the length of the yard, their twinkling lights cheery against the gloomy grey sky. The doors to various outbuildings that they passed were hung with ribboned wreaths and, towards the far end of the yard, a long low building was covered in more coloured lights. It was towards this that they now walked.
‘Have you been here before?’ asked Grace. ‘The farm hasn’t been open all that long.’
Daisy nodded, her head still swivelling at all there was to see. ‘I came to have a look around at the end of the summer and Flora explained that this was their first year as commercial growers. I thought it was such a lovely thing to be able to walk among the flowers. When I get married I will definitely be coming back.’
‘Well, Flora will be delighted to hear that. When is your wedding?’
Daisy blushed. ‘Oh… I don’t even have a boyfriend yet. I just meant that when I do get married, if I do, then…’
Grace smiled. ‘I might be a little biased, but I couldn’t agree more. I’m not about to get married…’ She paused, pulling a face. ‘I’ve been there and done that, but I certainly wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else. Flora’s my friend but she’s also an incredible florist. What that woman doesn’t know about flowers isn’t worth knowing.’ She stopped, looking Daisy up and down. ‘And can I just say that I absolutely adore your cloak. But make sure you keep an eye on it during the day, otherwise when you come to go home later you’ll find that Flora has pinched it. You might have noticed that her sense of style is somewhat unique.’
Daisy returned the smile and nodded at the compliment. ‘She’s very… colourful, but it suits her. I’m not that adventurous, I’m afraid, but my cloak was…’ She faltered at the sudden welling sadness brought on by the realisation of what she was about to say. ‘A gift, from my boss.’
‘It’s tweed, isn’t it? Such beautiful colours.’
Daisy looked down at the flecks of blue, green, grey and teal, thinking of the Christmas two years ago when Bea had given it to her. She had been extraordinarily touched by the gesture. She blinked hard. ‘Yes, made in Bute. My boss is Scottish and rather eccentric. She has these made specially for her by a woman on the island.’
Grace was still admiring her cloak. ‘Well, eccentric or not, she has excellent taste. And what does your boss do… what do you do?’
‘I work in the jewellers in town; Buchanans,’ she replied.
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘A little out of my price range.’
‘A little out of most people’s,’ Daisy replied. ‘But I’ll have to see what the new year brings,’ she added. ‘My boss announced her retirement yesterday and so someone new will be running the business.’ She let her expression say the rest.
Grace studied her for a moment. ‘Well then, hopefully today will help to take your mind off things,’ she said warmly. ‘Here we are. Come and say hello to Flora.’
Grace opened the door and ushered Daisy inside.
‘Oh…’ Daisy’s hand went straight to her mouth as she gazed around her in wonder, catching Grace’s eye who was grinning at her.
‘Kind of gets you like that, doesn’t it? Amazing to think this place used to be a milking shed.’
It was the smell which hit Daisy first. Rich, intoxicating, verdant… no, more than that… alive. It was the only word she could use to describe it. Here, in the middle of winter, was a room positively brimming with life. Every surface held flowers and foliage. It lay on the tables, stood in huge buckets dotted around the floor, even hung from the walls.
The room was long and quite narrow, with whitewashed walls, and open to the rafters which towered above them. It should have been a cold and draughty space but, right at the far end, a large log burner was ablaze, casting a warm glow into the room.
It took Daisy a moment to spot Flora, her forest-green jumper embroidered with big white daisies almost camouflaging her as she arranged more bunches of greenery on a table. But almost at the same instant as Daisy noticed her, Flora looked up and grinned, putting down the foliage and coming forward.