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

by Emma Davies

  Flora reached out a hand and touched her arm. ‘I have got to get Amos down here to see this. Without Grace,’ she added. ‘This could be just the kind of thing he’s looking for.’ She stood up before Daisy could protest. ‘Wait here and I’ll go and fetch him. Act casual.’ She grinned at Daisy and winked before nonchalantly strolling back down the room to where Amos was still sitting, eating a sandwich beside the fire.

  Daisy’s heart was hammering. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was the first time she had ever shared her thoughts about the things she made, but Flora had liked them. No, Flora had loved them! She sat back and looked around her at the amazing space full of things that Flora had grown. There was a row of gorgeous prints on the wall, too, which added to the overall effect and, with so much else to look at in the room, Daisy realised that she had scarcely noticed them before. Now that she looked, she could see instantly who had created them – a woman with wild dark hair, wearing the brightest jumper that Daisy had ever seen, and who exuded such… joy… about everything she did. Daisy felt quite breathless from the feeling.

  She took a deep breath, trying to damp down her feelings. Don’t get too carried away, she told herself; this wasn’t the kind of thing that happened to her. But further down the room she could see that Flora had sliced a piece of cake and was casually nibbling at it as she chatted to Amos. She was standing side on, so Daisy couldn’t see her expression but, as she watched, Amos looked straight down the room at her, a huge smile suddenly breaking out across his face. It was like having a spotlight shone on her.

  Amos looked away quickly, placing his hand across his face, and Daisy recognised it as something she did when trying to hide how she felt. He nodded a couple of times and then Daisy saw Flora cross to where Grace was sitting and bend to say something in her ear. Grace got to her feet and with an easy smile made purposefully for the door at the far end. Seconds later, with Grace now gone, Amos came to sit beside her.

  He fell on her silver pieces with undisguised glee. ‘See, I knew you’d be able to help me,’ he said.

  ‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you the other day, in the shop. Kit isn’t always very… helpful.’

  Amos regarded her evenly. ‘I think he had his mind on other things, that’s all. But then he was reading a very good book, so I can see why that would be the case. Actually, you should ask him about it one day, I think you’d like it too.’

  Daisy frowned. What a peculiar thing to say. She was about to reply when Amos continued.

  ‘Anyway, it was no matter. I don’t have the kind of money that would allow me to buy anything from Buchanans but, in fact, none of the things there were really what I was looking for. That kind of jewellery is—’

  ‘Ostentatious? Showy? For people who have money and would like the world to know it…’ She clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, that was really rude.’

  Amos smiled. ‘Just not for me,’ he finished, dipping his head in acknowledgement of her comment. ‘And not for Grace either, which is more important.’

  ‘No, of course,’ said Daisy quickly. ‘I don’t know her, obviously, but anyone can see that she’s… well, just lovely.’

  Amos sighed. ‘Yes, she is. And I’d like you to make me something that tells her story, that tells her why I fell in love with her too.’

  ‘But do you really think I can do that? You haven’t even seen any of the things I’ve made, not really, and I—’

  ‘Daisy, I know that you are the perfect person to make me a gift for Grace. But if I had any doubt at all, that disappeared the moment I saw you here today. A feeling that has now been completely borne out by the fact that you actually make your own jewellery. People cross your path for a reason, I firmly believe that.’ He sat back and grinned. ‘See, it’s fate. You are destined to make something for me.’

  She looked up at him. She’d never really thought about it before, but if Amos thought she had crossed his path for good reason, then that would also mean that he had crossed hers for a reason too… But the whole fate shenanigans… She tried to remain focused.

  ‘I think Kit mentioned that you were looking for something… ethereal? That’s not a term most people would use to describe jewellery.’

  Amos smiled. ‘Maybe not, but Grace has this thing about her, a way of being that fills the space a long time after she’s left it. I’m not sure how else to describe it.’

  Daisy leaned forward. ‘Ethereal,’ she murmured, thinking how wonderful it must be to have someone describe you in that way. ‘What a fabulous word…’ She trailed off, thinking. ‘So, the jewellery should be a reflection of who Grace is, but more than that it should also reflect something back to her, something that’s important to her, that makes her feel whole. Does that make sense?’

  Amos just smiled.

  ‘So, what would do that?’

  ‘Oh, heavens, so many things… her bees, her garden, me hopefully…’ He grinned. ‘You’ll have to get to know her a bit better.’ He looked down at the wreath she was making. ‘And there’s just not enough time to do that today.’ He beckoned Flora over.

  ‘Are you nearly done?’ Flora asked, still grinning with excitement. ‘It’s just Grace will be back in a moment. I only asked her to fetch some things from the house.’

  Amos nodded. ‘But I need to concoct a little plan so that Daisy can get to know Grace better. And what simpler way to hide a secret than in plain sight…’ He narrowed his eyes at Daisy. ‘How about we tell Grace that Flora’s husband, Ned, has commissioned you to make something for her? And so you need to speak to Grace in secret to find out what Flora might like. But all the while you’re really observing Grace.’

  Daisy looked between Amos and Flora, both of them caught up in the illicit thrill of the surprise they were plotting for Grace. Which was all very well except that it relied on her being able to make a piece of jewellery in the first place, and she really wasn’t sure that she could. Her face fell as the enormity of what this might involve raced through her mind. It was one thing to tinker with a few bits of clay, and another entirely to design an individual piece of jewellery to which enormous importance was attached. What on earth had she been thinking? She wasn’t a jeweller. She worked in a jeweller’s shop and that wasn’t the same thing at all. Plenty of people had an eye for what looked good and what didn’t, there was nothing special about her.

  She suddenly realised that Amos was looking at her, a concerned expression on his face. ‘Oh God, I’ve terrified you, haven’t I?’

  Daisy gave a weak smile, but it was hard to know what to say. Flora and he both seemed so excited and she didn’t want to let them down.

  Flora touched her arm. ‘Is this the first commission you’ll have undertaken?’

  Daisy managed a nod.

  ‘Then would it help you to know that this time last year, right about where you’re sitting, this place was full of cows. I’d only just met my husband and wasn’t even living here, and my florist’s shop in Birmingham had just had to close. I never dreamed that so much would happen in the space of less than a year, but I had a hope that they might, and that was enough. Sometimes all it takes is one small step.’

  ‘And people who are prepared to take that one small step with you,’ added Amos. ‘Listen, I have no idea what I want for Grace, not really, but I’ll know it when I see it. And I’ve seen enough today to know that you have it in you to find what I’m looking for. So how about we undertake that journey together? We can both learn as we go along. No pressure, no expectation, but a dollop of hope and a trust in the power of possibility. How about that?’

  A slow smile crept over Daisy’s face. Put like that it didn’t sound scary at all. ‘I think I can manage that,’ she said.

  Amos got to his feet. ‘I’m going to make myself scarce, but can you let me have your number so I can get in touch about what we do next?’

  Daisy rummaged in her bag, pulling out a card and handing it over somewhat shyly. ‘I had these made a while back in a fi
t of enthusiasm. In fact, I think you might be the first person I’ve ever given one to. But my number’s on there.’

  Amos studied the card and then held out his hand. ‘I’m very glad to have met you, Daisy Turner.’

  She shook his hand, staring at him open-mouthed as he turned and walked back down the length of the room.

  Flora laughed. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘He gets you like that, doesn’t he? There’s something rather magical about Amos that you can never quite put your finger on. He turned up here one day at the start of summer looking for work, and sort of stayed. Of course, it helped that he and Grace fell in love, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life too. One thing’s for sure though, whenever he’s around things start happening, so you better prepare yourself for an adventure, Daisy.’

  She paused, checking her watch. ‘I can’t believe the time has gone by so fast. I’m going to whip around everyone else now and check they’re okay, but will you carry on with what you’re doing? I really want to see how your wreath turns out, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to bring it back to show me once you’ve fired the clay. I can’t wait to see the finished article.’

  Daisy blushed slightly, but nodded, picking up the clay. She could see just how she needed to continue with the wreath now, and what it might look like once she had transformed the dull grey clay into sparkling pieces of silver.

  An hour and a half later she walked back to the car, carrying not only a beautiful natural decoration, but also something inside of her that simply hadn’t been there before.

  5

  Saturday 7th December

  Eighteen shopping days until Christmas

  Daisy took her time walking to work the next morning. Part of her didn’t want to be there at all. She’d had such a lovely day yesterday, returning home to sit beside her warm fire and dream about all the lovely things she could make. In the quiet room, with just her little Christmas tree for company, it was easy to imagine that everything was exactly as it should be. But more than that, she had found a little hope and didn’t want to let it go. The wonderful thing about hope, however, was that anything seemed possible after it had worked its magic, and this morning she had reminded herself of Flora’s story and resolved to have a little more faith in herself.

  Daisy always arrived extra early after a day off. The end-of-day routines were never done quite the way she liked them when she wasn’t there, so consequently it took a little extra time to get everything shipshape for the day ahead. She would take her time, in between sipping a cup of tea, and when eight thirty came around and it was time for Bea or Kit to arrive, soothing order would be restored.

  Her fingers tightened automatically over the big bunch of keys that she held in her pocket as she readied them for use. Today though, as she neared the front door and was about to pull them from her pocket, she could hear raised voices coming from within, and she stopped dead. It was only just gone half past seven and no one ever got there that early. She stood back, surveying the door and windows, but everything looked as it should. Had they been broken into? She could see no signs that the door had been forced and, leaning closer once more, her ear to the door, she realised with horror that the voice she could hear belonged to Lawrence. What on earth was he doing here?

  She tentatively pushed the door open and took a step inside. The main shop floor was still lit only by the small interior lights on the display cases, but standing in the middle of it, their tall figures casting huge shadows against the walls, stood the three brothers, forming an almost impenetrable wall in front of her.

  The voices stopped abruptly as the sound of the doorbell jangled loudly in the expectant space.

  ‘Right, well now we might get some answers,’ said Lawrence, his face like thunder in the gloom.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here.’ Bertie spoke this time, his usual genial manner gone.

  ‘Hello, Daisy,’ said Kit simply.

  She stared at them in turn, her heart thumping at the harshness of their words, the coldness of their greeting. She had half a mind to turn tail and walk straight back out of the shop again but, instead, she took her bag from her shoulder and, holding it in front of her as if it were a shield, she marched straight through the middle of them and on into the back room. She closed the door behind her and as calmly as she could went to hang up her coat and hat. Then she filled the kettle and set it to boil. She took down her mug from the cupboard and placed her keys beside it, just as she always did, and then she stood, one hand bracing herself against the countertop, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Behind the door the voices started up again and she swallowed, praying that it stayed closed just for a moment. She had expected some degree of reaction following Bea’s news of the other day, but obviously her absence yesterday had not allowed heels to cool as Bea might have hoped they would. Instead, it seemed to have inflamed things even more. It really was too much.

  When she felt as if she had herself marginally more under control, she quietly opened the door.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, immediately holding up a hand. ‘And if any one of you raises your voice at me again, I’m putting my coat back on and going home.’ To her surprise she sounded far more fierce than she felt and it had the desired effect. Even Lawrence fell silent. ‘Would anybody like a cup of tea?’

  The staffroom filled with bodies behind her as one by one the brothers trooped through. Bertie was first to speak.

  ‘I’m sorry, Daisy, we’re a bit… preoccupied this morning, as you might have guessed. The fact that our mother seems to have taken complete leave of her senses is rather concerning.’

  ‘Is that what you think she’s done?’ asked Lawrence archly. ‘It’s not madness, Bertie, it’s malicious and you know it. Mother acts like she’s constantly on stage, and you can call it eccentricity if you want to, but I’m calling it what it is, manipulative and divisive.’

  Daisy winced. She’d known that Lawrence would be the most upset by Bea’s announcement. He had almost certainly assumed that the business would pass to him, but to find that he was now going to have to jump through a considerable number of hoops to secure his future was a hard pill to swallow.

  He had a point. Bea did behave as if she was constantly in front of an audience, but Daisy had never known her to be malicious, just incredibly shrewd. And if Daisy knew her at all, there would be a very well-thought-out reason why she was doing this. Yet Daisy herself had been incredibly surprised by Bea’s actions on this occasion, so maybe she didn’t know Bea as well as she thought she did. Worse, if there was a point to all of this, just how did that involve Daisy?

  ‘Scared you’re not going to win?’ taunted Bertie.

  ‘Scared I am?’ Lawrence fired back.

  Daisy rolled her eyes. It was going to be a very long morning. She poured hot water into each of the four mugs and began to prod the teabags, thinking.

  ‘One thing I do know is that it’s pointless to try and change Bea’s mind,’ she said. ‘Whatever her reasons are for doing this, I’m as much in the dark as you are, but if you want a chance to run Buchanans in the future, you may as well get used to the idea that it’s going to be on her terms. I don’t see you have much choice but to do as she’s asked.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Daisy, don’t act all innocent,’ added Lawrence. ‘What did she say? You must have known all this was going to happen.’

  ‘I didn’t actually. And I can assure you I’m not thrilled about the idea either.’ She turned to fish out the teabags, adding milk to the mugs once she had done so.

  Lawrence coughed the word ‘bullshit’ into his hand. ‘Sorry, but you must really think I’m stupid if I believe that.’

  ‘You said it.’ Kit’s voice dropped like a soft sigh.

  ‘Oh, he speaks…’ retorted Lawrence. ‘I suppose you think you’ve got it all sewn up too. Mummy’s little boy who gets away with everything. I can see why you’re happy with the arrangement.’

  ‘Happy?’ Kit’s voice was scathing. ‘Why
would I be happy? What could I possibly want with a shop that sells nothing but greed and materialism?’

  Daisy stared at him; she had never heard him speak that way before.

  ‘Yes, but holier than thou ideals or not, you still need a job, don’t you,’ replied Lawrence, sneering.

  Kit glared at his brother. That scored home, thought Daisy.

  ‘Leave her alone, Lawrence, that’s all I’m saying. Daisy said she didn’t know what Mum was planning, and I believe her. Just back off.’

  Lawrence looked at Bertie, who just shrugged, casting his eyes downward. Lawrence was on his own. He squared his shoulders. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you, Daisy. You’ve always had Mother’s ear, she must have told you something. And why pick you as the person we have to make the gift for, why not choose herself? No, there’s something in it for you, there has to be.’

  ‘Shall I tell you what’s in it for me?’ she said, her anger flaring. ‘The only thing that I stand to gain is the joy of working for one of you. Forgive me if I’m not turning cartwheels.’ Then she turned on her heel and stalked back out to the sales floor.

  There was silence for a few moments and Daisy retrieved the glass polish and cloth from under the counter. As she suspected, no one had bothered to clean the glass yesterday evening. She gave the counter nearest to her a good squirt and began to rub at the greasy marks, continuing long after the glass was clean.

  After a few minutes’ determined polishing she realised that a figure had come to quietly stand beside her, and she wasn’t altogether surprised to find that it was Kit.

  ‘I’ve brought your tea through for you,’ he said, placing it gently down on the desk.

  She was aware that he was watching her but she kept her head bent low, avoiding his look.

  ‘Thanks,’ she muttered.