The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street: An absolutely unforgettable Christmas romance

by Emma Davies

  ‘Hello,’ she said, her smile of greeting changing almost immediately to a quizzical look. ‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’

  Daisy was impressed. ‘You have a good memory,’ she said. ‘And you’re right. I came to have a look around a few months ago. Just being nosey, I’m afraid, but when I saw today’s course advertised I knew I had to come back.’

  ‘And in the most gorgeous cloak I’ve ever seen. Don’t leave that lying around, will you, or I’ll have to snaffle it.’ She laughed as she caught Grace’s grin, obviously knowing that her friend was well aware of her penchant for such things. ‘I can’t remember your name though, I’m sorry.’

  Daisy held out her hand and introduced herself, surprised to find she wasn’t half as nervous as she thought she would be.

  ‘Come down to the far end,’ added Flora. ‘It’s much warmer down there, and I’ve put a few chairs around so that we can have a bit of an informal session before we start on our own projects. And besides, very importantly, there’s tea and biscuits, cake too. And hot chocolate… coffee… water… fruit juice.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I got a bit carried away,’ she admitted.

  ‘I might just go and see if anyone else has arrived,’ said Grace. ‘Save me a biscuit though, Amos has eaten all of mine… again… and I’d kill for a Jammie Dodger.’

  Flora stood back to let Daisy go on ahead, leaning in as she passed. ‘Grace’s partner has a very sweet tooth,’ she whispered. ‘He’s the world’s biggest biscuit thief.’

  Daisy nodded although she didn’t really understand; she and food had rather an odd relationship. As she got closer to the table she could see it was groaning with dishes. How did people choose when there was just so much to choose from?

  To her immense relief, however, she spied a plain digestive on one of the plates; she could cope with that. And plain tea too, that was okay. She took a seat, basking in the warmth from the fire, and began to think about what the day might bring.

  It didn’t take long to find out. As soon as everyone had arrived and was clutching a hot drink, Flora sat in front of them all, a basket of materials at her feet, and explained that the day was all about finding their own way of working. There were no right or wrong ways to make a Christmas wreath, or other floral decorations for that matter, and it was all about experimentation; with colour, shape and texture. Everyone had different ideas about what worked for them, be it friendly, fun or flamboyant, and what Flora wanted was to show them some basic skills so that they could go off and apply what they had learned. And that was exactly what Daisy needed.

  Daisy had never made a wreath before. She had bought them, at Christmastime, but they were always a little lacking in something. And yet the first one Flora showed them made Daisy’s eyes light up. Gone were the traditional colour scheme and ribbons. Instead, it was full of flower heads, silvery foliage and what looked suspiciously like popcorn of all things. Daisy sat entranced while Flora described the process involved to shape the wreath and what elements she was going to add to it, binding the foliage not with wire, but with whips of curly willow which themselves added to the design. The texture it created was so intriguing. Before she had even finished, Daisy was thinking of the silver clay she had brought with her. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, surely…

  After three quarters of an hour, Flora had shown them how to wire bunches of a huge variety of materials so that they would stay secure, how to make bows and rosettes, and how to start weaving flower heads and foliage together to make a garland. It was enough to get them started and, standing up, she ushered everyone back through to the tables that were heaped with all the things they could choose from to create their own wreath. Daisy felt like a small child in a sweet shop.

  Her eye was immediately taken by some huge hydrangea heads, dried to a soft lilac colour, some of the petals slightly more grey, others more pink.

  ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ said Flora. ‘They make the most amazing centrepieces.’

  ‘Did you grow these?’ asked Daisy, rather in awe.

  ‘Yep, and dried them.’ Flora looked up and Daisy could see bunches of flowers hanging from the beams. ‘We didn’t intend it this way, but the building turned out to be the perfect place to do it.’

  ‘I would never have thought of using anything like this.’

  Flora smiled. ‘Most people discount them because they’re so big, but actually once they’re used in a design they look really delicate and, as long as you pick complementary colours, everything blends together beautifully.’

  Daisy cast her eye along the table. ‘So maybe some of this eucalyptus would work…?’

  ‘That would be perfect. And you can either weave it around the wreath or just take small pieces and bunch them together to use as an accent. Have a play and see what you think.’

  Daisy nodded, her fingers lingering over some ivy and small balls of something woven. She turned one over in her hand, thinking, before taking her finds back to the table she was working at. And then she sat for a few minutes letting her mind create the images she would need. The morning passed in a blur.

  Daisy was so wrapped up in what she was doing that it took a few moments to realise that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Glancing up, she realised that the hum of industry had stopped and most people were looking around them expectantly. She hadn’t noticed, but where the tea and biscuits had been laid out earlier, the table was now groaning with platters of sandwiches and other savoury nibbles. Daisy had almost forgotten that lunch was being provided.

  Flora waved a hand from the other end of the room.

  ‘Well, lunch is here folks, if you’re ready. There’s no set timetable for the day, so we can stop now. Or, if you want to carry on for a bit, that’s fine too.’

  A woman closest to Flora got to her feet.

  ‘Oh, and feel free to wash your hands, there’s a sink in the corner.’

  Daisy looked back at her wreath. She would have preferred to carry on, but she would stop if everyone else was. She bent down and took the clay from her bag, placing it on the table. She would ask Flora about it once lunch was out of the way. And if the clay was there, ready, she couldn’t pretend to herself that she had forgotten about it. She got to her feet somewhat reluctantly and was about to go and join the others when the door behind her banged.

  Grace appeared in the doorway trying to manoeuvre a tray of glasses through the opening while simultaneously holding it open. She caught Daisy’s eye and grimaced.

  ‘Sorry, I’m letting all the cold air in.’

  Daisy shot to her rescue, grabbing the door and settling a glass which looked about to topple.

  ‘Thanks so much, the door’s heavier than it looks. Would you mind holding it for a moment, Amos is just behind me with the drinks.’

  The moment she said it, a foot braced itself against the opening and, peering around the door, Daisy came face to face with a broad smile that she had seen only once but would remember anywhere. The man’s face lit up with recognition.

  ‘Oh, hello again,’ he said, the smile widening even further, then dipping slightly when he realised where he had last seen her. Because this man was Amos, Grace’s partner, the man with the bright-red boots she had last seen only the day before enquiring about jewellery. It could have been for his mother, or a sister, a friend even, but Daisy would lay money on it being for Grace. In which case the last thing he would want was for Grace to know that they had already met or, more importantly, where they had met. Far too many surprises had been ruined in similar fashion, and Daisy’s nose for such things was finely tuned.

  Daisy flicked an anxious look towards Grace, but she had already moved down the room, intent on carrying her cargo safely, and if she’d heard Amos’s greeting she made no show of it.

  Daisy smiled and whispered hello, passing a surreptitious finger across her lips as she nodded towards Grace. There was a flash of understanding in Amos’s eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied, and they both knew it was for mor
e than holding open the door.

  She closed the door carefully behind them and followed Amos to the far end of the room, where everyone had gathered.

  ‘Right, come and grab something to eat, everyone,’ announced Flora. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. This is Amos, who lives next door with Grace and, among other things, transformed this lowly cow shed into the fabulous space we have now. But for today, he’s just going to give a hand with the drinks.’

  Amos gave a courtly bow. Hanging back to let everyone else go first, Daisy was able to watch him for a moment.

  There was nothing especially remarkable about him. He was of medium height, with jet-black curly hair, and was wearing jeans and a thick Guernsey sweater plus the red boots of course. But there was something about his face that seemed so familiar to Daisy, as if she had known him all her life. He looked up and caught her watching him, forcing her to look away quickly, but not before she saw a flash of something in his eyes too. Part of her wanted to find out what, but the other part was terrified.

  Soon, everyone else had filled their plates and Daisy went forward. Not to have done so would have looked odd, but she was always nervous of any food she hadn’t made herself, and if it wasn’t plain then she would struggle.

  ‘Everything is vegetarian,’ said Flora. ‘I hope that’s okay. It just seemed easier in the long run…’ She smirked. ‘Actually, I forgot to put dietary information on the booking forms,’ she admitted. ‘So it’s my fault.’ She looked up at Daisy, sensing her hesitation. ‘Oh God, you’re not a vegan, are you?’

  Daisy shook her head, smiling hesitantly. ‘No… just a fusspot, I’m afraid. I don’t like things that are… complicated.’

  Most people usually pulled a face when Daisy said that or, at the very least, told her that she didn’t know what she was missing. ‘Go on, just try it’, was another phrase she cringed at. But Flora just smiled.

  ‘Cheese?’ she suggested. ‘Or there’s egg sandwiches, which make me shudder personally but I’m told everyone likes. Everyone but me, obviously. There’s nothing else with it, only a little salad cream. And the quiche is mushroom if you fancy that.’

  Daisy stared at her in wonderment. Two of her favourite fillings, and the sandwiches were made from thick doorsteps of granary bread which she would have sworn was homemade. Daisy couldn’t abide white bread. It really was the strangest thing. Growing up, she had worried endlessly about all the things that made her different from everyone else, but her brother always told her that one day she would find the others, as he called them – people just like her who had little oddities – and she would instantly forget that she had ever considered herself different. And now here she was, and it was happening just as her brother had said it would. It couldn’t have come at a better time. She nodded enthusiastically and began to fill her plate.

  Once it was full she really had no other excuse for not saying what was on her mind and, screwing up her courage, she turned to Flora.

  ‘After lunch, would you mind helping me with something?’ she asked. ‘Or rather, would you give me your opinion on it? I’ve had an idea and I’m really not sure whether it’s good… or bad.’

  ‘Of course,’ Flora replied. ‘Sounds intriguing… but that’s what we’re here for, isn’t that right, Amos? We like intriguing ideas.’

  Daisy started, realising that Amos had come to stand right beside her.

  ‘Oh, we do indeed,’ he replied, looking straight at Daisy, his eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘And, in fact, I’ve had an idea of my own and I’m absolutely certain you’re the person to help.’

  4

  Friday 6th December

  Nineteen shopping days until Christmas

  It was all Daisy could do to finish her lunch. Although they all sat in front of the log burner chatting excitedly about the morning’s progress, she only really had half her brain tuned in; the other half was busy trying to work out what on earth Amos could have meant.

  Almost as soon as everyone sat back at their tables following their break, Flora came to join her, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She leaned forward, a conspiratorial look on her face.

  ‘Well, this is all very curious,’ she said, her voice low. ‘Apparently Amos wants to talk to you about some jewellery, but it’s a bit hush-hush, which is code for Grace mustn’t know. So he can’t come over until the coast is clear. I didn’t know you were a jeweller.’

  ‘I’m not,’ replied Daisy instantly, immediately pulling a face. ‘Well, not in the way Amos means, I don’t suppose. I work for Buchanans in town,’ she clarified. ‘And Amos came into the shop yesterday, obviously needing some help, but I’m afraid I was busy serving another customer and so he got my hapless assistant who is about as much use as a chocolate teapot.’

  ‘Oh, I see… well, that explains it.’ Flora beamed. ‘I don’t suppose Grace will mind my telling you, but she and Amos haven’t been together that long; only since the summer actually. And you couldn’t meet two nicer people, they are absolutely made for one another. It’s so romantic.’

  Daisy gave a little inward sigh of pleasure. Vicarious pleasure or not, it was still pleasure.

  ‘So, Amos has obviously got a Christmas present for Grace in mind,’ added Flora. ‘I wonder what he wants to get her?’ She grinned. ‘Oh, that’s got me excited now.’ She looked down at the table. ‘Sorry, that’s not helping you at all, is it? What was it you wanted to ask me?’

  But before Daisy could even reply, Flora spotted what she’d been working on and picked up one of the clay leaves Daisy had just made.

  ‘What are these…?’ Flora asked, looking up. ‘How on earth did you make them?’

  The leaf that she had picked up was one that Daisy had pressed into clay just a few moments ago – an ivy leaf, its rich veining perfectly transferred onto the surface. She had then cut out the leaf shape from the clay, leaving an almost exact replica of the original.

  Daisy cocked her head to the side, looking at it critically. ‘I’m not sure whether what I have in mind will work,’ she said. ‘But I wondered whether it would be possible to make a wreath that would last indefinitely, and to which I could then add these.’ She fingered the clay shape.

  Flora frowned slightly, but nodded. ‘Well you could, but…’

  Flora was interested, but Daisy could see that she didn’t understand what she was looking at. And then Daisy realised that she hadn’t explained herself at all well. She picked up the clay leaf again. ‘This is silver,’ she explained. ‘Or at least, it will be, once it’s fired.’

  Flora’s eyes widened. ‘Silver?’ She turned the leaf over, seeing only the dull grey surface. ‘Do you mean you paint it?’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘No… hang on a minute.’ She fished inside her bag, taking out the little cloth pouch she kept there. She laid its contents on the table: an assortment of shimmering flower heads, leaves and tiny buds. ‘These are all made from silver clay,’ she explained. ‘Just like the ivy leaf I’ve just started. But they’ve been fired with a gas torch so that the clay burns off, leaving just silver behind. It’s polished and then, well, you can see what it looks like.’

  Flora stared, her eyes roaming the table. ‘Oh my God…’ She peered closer at the leaf in her hand. ‘So once this is finished it will look like those do, like silver?’ She looked up at Daisy, a hand held over her heart in wonder. ‘But these are so incredibly beautiful…’

  ‘Are they?’ Daisy blinked at her in surprise.

  Flora nodded rapidly. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them before. I thought you said you weren’t a jeweller?’

  ‘I’m not, goodness… me?’ Her cheeks flushed red. ‘No, this is just a hobby and I—’

  Flora snorted. ‘Well you damn well should be. These are stunning, Daisy, I mean it.’ She sat back, still holding the leaf in her hand. ‘Tell me what you see,’ she urged. ‘When you said about making the wreath more permanent and adding the silver. Explain.’

  Daisy looked at her, astonished, b
ut Flora wasn’t kidding – she actually wanted to know. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve always loved the idea of jewellery being like a living thing, representing some part of yourself, something you love. And, for me, I’m generally happiest when I’m outside.’

  She paused for a moment trying to gather what she needed to say. ‘There’s so much there that gives me joy – the teeniest detail on a petal, the gossamer threads of a spider’s web, or the beads of dew on a summer morning. So what I like to do is merge the two – natural items combined with silver work.’ She pulled a face. ‘It doesn’t always work, but here on this wreath, the colours and textures are just so wonderful I thought that if I could preserve all the materials then I could add small silver details. A bunch of ivy leaves for example, or a cluster of holly berries…’

  She lifted up the wreath, peering at it. ‘I haven’t quite worked it all out yet, but I’d design the silver element so that it could be taken off and worn as a piece of jewellery if you wanted…’ She trailed off, not quite sure how to express herself.

  ‘So that the piece exists in more than one place,’ said Flora. ‘It becomes so much more than just a wreath. Wow… I have never ever thought of doing anything like that, but it’s inspired, Daisy. Really, it would look amazing.’

  ‘But is it even possible?’

  Flora grinned and nodded. ‘Oh yes! The hydrangea heads are already dried, the willow is, well willow… and you could preserve the eucalyptus in glycerine before you used it; that way it would keep its colour and suppleness.’ She darted a look further down the room to where Grace was sitting at one of the other tables. ‘That’s actually a trick that Grace taught me. You can preserve all kinds of leaves that way.’

  Daisy’s brain was already beginning to conjure numerous different possibilities. She looked down at her work and then back up at Flora whose eyes were shining with excitement, and she felt a tiny shiver run through her.