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

by Emma Davies

  ‘But you do want to run Buchanans?’

  There was an even longer pause.

  ‘I think that’s one of those questions I never thought I’d have to think about. And not something I’m particularly proud of admitting. But when Dad died at such an early age we were all brought up to understand that it was our place to keep the family firm going. We all thought that Lawrence would take the helm when Mum retired of course, but that essentially everything else would pretty much stay the same. Rather naive as it turns out.’

  ‘That might still happen.’

  Bertie’s head swivelled. ‘You really don’t know Lawrence, do you? There’s no way that he’d keep either me or Kit on the books if he gained control. Not financially viable would be his excuse, but in reality it’s because Lawrence likes doing things by himself. I’m under no illusions that I’d be out on my ear.’

  Daisy was about to argue but realised there was little point. Bertie’s words had an undeniable ring of truth about them. ‘But what would you do then?’

  Bertie let out a long sigh. ‘I have absolutely no idea. I’m not fit for much – bit of a party animal, I’m afraid.’

  It wasn’t the throwaway comment he meant it to be, and Daisy need only look around her to see that he was being serious about his shortcomings. The car was virtually new, with plush leather seats and a polished wood interior, and an ability to accelerate that came at a price. Bertie himself wore the kind of clothes that only easy money could buy. The designer sunglasses, the boots, a watch that looked like it could launch a rocket – none of it looked like it was trying too hard. But, despite Daisy’s lack of knowledge of such things, she knew enough to understand that beneath the deliberately understated exterior – if you were the right kind of person – these things were shouting at you very loudly indeed. She could see very clearly how Bertie’s upbringing had been responsible for the way he lived his life.

  ‘Okay, so what would you like to do?’

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know that either. You’ll think me a poor little rich boy, but I’ve never even thought about how I would support myself.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘What an admission to have to make.’

  ‘Well, at least you have admitted it,’ replied Daisy. ‘That’s half the battle at least, surely? Plenty of time to get your head out of the sand and contemplate the road ahead.’

  ‘Head out of my arse, more like.’

  Daisy smiled. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say that but she had decided on the rather more polite option.

  ‘Well, whichever it is, let’s just assume for a minute that you do get to run Buchanans. What would you do then? Would you give Lawrence and Kit a job?’

  Bertie turned his head briefly to look at her. ‘You know, if you could just tell me what would be your ideal piece of jewellery, this would be an awful lot easier. So, come on, what would you like?’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘You didn’t answer mine.’

  They smiled at one another.

  ‘Come on, I’d like to know. What would you do?’ repeated Daisy.

  Bertie tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel with his fingers.

  ‘I’d give Kit a job. Because Kit’s as hopeless as I am, just in a different way. Lawrence I’m not sure about. I probably would, just to keep the peace.’ He slid a glance at her. ‘See, I told you I was a hopeless businessman.’

  ‘Actually, I think you’d be good for Buchanans. You’d bring a little more modernity to the place and because, by your own admission, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’d come to the business with fresh eyes, rather than being bound by conventional ideas or wisdom about what running the place should entail. I think that might be what it needs.’

  ‘And what else does it need?’

  Daisy had often thought about what she would do if she had a business to run, but never about Buchanans; it wasn’t hers to consider. She smiled and shrugged.

  Bertie gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Well, you’re no use,’ he said. ‘But now, as I’ve answered your question, you can at least give me a clue about the type of jewellery you’d like.’

  She grinned. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’

  ‘Favourite colour at least.’

  ‘Blue.’

  ‘Well, that’s easy then… sapphires.’

  ‘Ah, but is it? It could be sapphires, but then again it could be lapis lazuli, topaz or aquamarine. Or even tanzanite, a wee bit of chalcedony…’

  Bertie groaned.

  ‘I’m sorry. But even if I knew I couldn’t tell you, could I? How would that be fair?’

  He squinted across at her. ‘We could go to a jeweller’s or something and you could point out a few things…’ He let the sentence dangle between them.

  ‘Bertie, I couldn’t. It’s not in the spirit of the thing and, besides, Bea’s not daft, she’d see through that in a minute. Don’t forget, you need to be able to tell her why it’s the perfect piece of jewellery for me as well.’

  ‘Well then you could tell me that too…’

  ‘I couldn’t, and you know it.’ She looked across at him, but he was smiling and she couldn’t blame him for trying it on. If she were in his shoes she probably would have done the same.

  ‘I mean it though, I couldn’t actually tell you because it’s not something I’ve ever really thought about. I don’t own things, you see, well not much anyway, and neither do I wish to. I live a very small life, Bertie.’

  ‘So perhaps we’re both on a quest then?’

  She thought about his words for a moment. ‘Yes, perhaps we are.’

  It was a curious notion, but maybe he was right. Daisy had thought about Bea’s motivation for doing what she had at numerous times over the past few days. Her behaviour was frequently flamboyant, theatrical and seemingly impulsive, but Daisy knew it was often to provoke a particular reaction. So maybe there was more to setting this particular challenge than just finding out who might be best suited to run the company. And, if that were the case, then what were Bea’s motives? And, just as importantly, what were her motives for involving Daisy?

  She could feel Bertie sneaking looks at her, perhaps mistaking her silence for annoyance.

  ‘You can’t blame me for trying though,’ he said. ‘Quite normal under the circumstances, surely?’

  Her smile was warm. ‘I don’t blame you at all, Bertie. This is incredibly hard on you all, and I wish there was an easier way of doing this. It seems… unkind… is that the right word? Unnecessary? I don’t know…’

  ‘But, do you want me to get Buchanans?’

  His eyes were fixed firmly on the road and she was grateful that he wasn’t looking at her.

  ‘Let’s change the subject, Bertie. I think we’re on rather dangerous ground. And we are going to be spending the whole day together, after all. Let’s not spoil it by talking about the business.’ She looked around her, frowning. ‘Where are we even going?’

  He turned and grinned at her. ‘Nottingham,’ he said.

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Nottingham? Whatever for?’

  ‘Winter Wonderland,’ he replied. ‘I go every year. It’s an absolute necessity at Christmastime. Just the thing to get you in the mood for the festivities.’

  She stared at him. ‘Is it?’ It sounded horrendous: far too busy and full of people.

  ‘Oh yes…’ He fiddled with one of the heating controls. ‘Are you warm enough? We’ve still got about an hour and a half to go yet, so make yourself comfortable and just enjoy the ride.’

  As soon as he said it, Daisy realised that she was enveloped in a warm fug, and the seat was so comfortable it was like a soft hug. She could even stretch her legs right out. Even if she hadn’t noticed, her body had; she felt completely relaxed. She turned her head to look out the window at the bright sky outside and smiled. Perhaps the day wasn’t going to be quite so awful as she had feared.

  She came to with a start, looking around her in horror to see that Bertie
was grinning at her. She immediately wiped her mouth, terrified that she’d been dribbling in her sleep.

  ‘Don’t worry, you were perfectly well behaved,’ he said. ‘No dribbling, no moaning or making weird noises, snuffling like a pig…’

  She wriggled slightly further upright in her seat. ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. That was incredibly rude.’

  ‘On the contrary, it’s quite a compliment. At least I know my driving hasn’t scared you witless.’

  ‘Yes, but even so.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, I didn’t.’

  ‘Where are we anyway?’ They had turned off the motorway and were driving through a built-up area.

  ‘Only about five minutes away. That was perfect timing. And courtesy of a mate’s house we can park within a couple of minutes’ walking distance from the town.’ He smiled. ‘I didn’t fancy doing battle with all the crowds on the trams.’

  He was looking at her and she wondered whether it was him who didn’t like the crowds or whether he had realised how uneasy they would make her feel. But that wasn’t the only thing that made her anxious. What to eat and drink were two more things and she didn’t dare think about everything else the day might involve. She swallowed, the sleepy contentment she had awoken with deserting her in an instant.

  She fished around in her handbag, not because she needed anything, but more for the comfort of knowing that everything was where it should be. Her fingers closed around her door keys and she held them in her palm for a moment, reminding herself of her little cottage and what it felt like to be tucked safely inside.

  Minutes later they drew up in front of a handsome red-bricked house. A tall tree stood outside covered in red bows, its lights shining even at this time of the morning. A similarly festive wreath graced the front door. It made Daisy smile to herself as she thought of the one at home she had finished last night. It wasn’t a patch on hers.

  Bertie killed the engine and removed his sunglasses, looking at her for a moment. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  She nodded, reaching for the door handle, somewhat loath to venture out of the warm space and into the cold. But, before she could open it, Bertie touched her arm.

  ‘No, Madam, let me.’ And he jumped out of the car, ran around the bonnet and pulled open her door with a flourish. ‘If Madam would care to step this way,’ he said with a bow and a broad grin.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ she replied. ‘Most kind.’

  She climbed from the car and they stood looking at one another, silently acknowledging the awkwardness of the day and their mutual desire to make it less so. Their breath was rising in clouds around them.

  ‘Come on,’ said Bertie. ‘It’s too cold to be hanging around.’ He indicated the road ahead. ‘If we go this way we can cut through the park, and it’s only a couple of minutes’ walk from there.’

  She fell into step beside him. ‘So, this Winter Wonderland, it’s on every year, is it?’

  Bertie nodded. ‘I’m not sure how long it’s been running, but I’ve been coming for the last five or six years. My friend who owns the house back there is involved in organising it, so it’s a good excuse to meet up. There’s a bunch of us here most years.’

  She looked at him in horror. ‘Are they going to be here today?’

  ‘No, don’t worry, it’s just us. I’ll come back a bit nearer Christmas to meet my mates. But I’ve managed to pull a few strings and lined up a little VIP treatment. I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t sure what kind of a day out this should be, and I know my way around this place. It seemed sensible.’

  ‘Bertie, I’m sure it will be great. It’s very kind of you to go to so much trouble.’

  ‘Well, I hope so. There has to be some bonus to this game we’re all playing, doesn’t there?’ He paused for a moment indicating that they should cross the road. ‘So, if you could choose, what would be your ideal day out?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ She pulled a face. ‘Something else I haven’t really thought of. I don’t go on many days out.’ Make that none, she thought, but didn’t say.

  ‘But you must know what you like, or where you like to be?’

  She nodded. ‘Well, that’s easy… somewhere outside, like the canal for example.’

  ‘The canal? What, full of floating beer bottles and old supermarket shopping trolleys?’

  She shook her head, laughing. ‘No, it’s really not like that. I live quite close to the canal and in summer I like to sit and just watch people go by. You can’t hurry when you’re on a boat and people are more relaxed, they have more time for others. They notice things they wouldn’t otherwise do and they seem, I don’t know, just happier to be alive than they do elsewhere. I like that. It makes me think that the world is not such a bad place after all.’

  She didn’t mention that one of the reasons she liked it was because she knew that she could chat to folks quite happily and probably never see them again.

  ‘Put like that, I guess it sounds lovely, in some ways… but not all that much fun?’

  ‘I didn’t say it was fun, but then it depends what you mean by fun. I have a feeling that your idea of it and mine would be very different. But the canal is lovely. There’s a spot where I can sit and dangle my feet in the water, feeling the eddies lapping against my legs as the boats go by. And there are kingfishers too, if you’re lucky. It’s very beautiful.’

  ‘Okay… maybe that’s fine in summer, but where would you go in wintertime then, at Christmas? Not the canal, surely?’

  Daisy’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, it’s even better in the winter. The water can freeze over, like glass, and the frost lies on its surface, turning it into a glittery mirror. There are rushes and grasses that grow by the water’s edge and on a frosty morning like today every single leaf stands out in sharp relief.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I love all of that, but most of all I love the stillness. The way everything seems frozen in a moment of time. You can breathe it in on a winter’s day, until it claims every part of you…’ She stopped. ‘Sorry. That probably sounds… well, weird.’

  Bertie was searching her face. ‘It doesn’t actually. When you say it… I think it sounds wonderful.’ He grimaced. ‘I’d never think of going anywhere like that and I’ve got a horrible feeling you’re going to hate today.’

  Daisy cocked her head to one side. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But only because it’s very different to what I’m used to. I’m interested to see it through your eyes though.’

  They had reached the end of another road and, as Bertie turned left, Daisy could see the gates ahead to a rather elegant-looking park. The trees that hung over its edge were barren of leaf but strung with coloured lanterns instead; red, blue, green and yellow in repeating patterns, right along the edge of the road. The street had been quiet but as soon as they turned onto the path that led into the park, Daisy could see lines of people up ahead, all following the same route, and undoubtedly all heading for the same destination. She felt rather like a sheep.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ asked Bertie, suddenly.

  She shook her head. ‘Not really…’ She glanced at her watch; it wasn’t quite yet ten o’clock. ‘I’ve not long had breakfast, but if you want something don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘A drink then?’

  She wasn’t really that thirsty either and was about to say so when she realised that the expression on Bertie’s face held more than just casual enquiry.

  ‘Possibly,’ she replied instead. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘It’s just that there’s this great place I always go to first. It’s called the Altitude Bar and is made of glass. Sitting way up above everything else you can look down on all the festivities below. It’s a great way of getting your bearings and if you like people-watching… Well, actually, I have a VIP table booked.’

  ‘Then that’s where we’ll go.’

  ‘Only if you’re sure, I don’t want to—’

  ‘Bertie, you’ve gone to all this trouble. Of course we’ll go.’


  She smiled at him confidently, ignoring the little voice in her head that was screaming have you gone mad? A bar at ten o’clock in the morning. What on earth was she letting herself in for?

  8

  Monday 9th December

  Sixteen shopping days until Christmas

  As soon as they emerged from the other end of the park, Daisy could hear the noise swelling around her. The crowds were growing thicker almost with every step they walked and, as they came to the end of a road, Daisy could see why.

  ‘Oh, my word!’

  A sudden cacophony of noise and light hit her as she stared out across the market square ahead of her. Everywhere she looked were strings of lights, dancing in the breeze. Ribbons of green and red entwined lamp posts and two golden angels with flutes hung suspended above their heads. Huge neon stars flashed on every corner.

  Right in the centre, towering above it all, was the biggest Christmas tree Daisy had ever seen. As a child she had longed to go to Trafalgar Square to see London’s famous tree but, despite all her pleading, she had never got to go. And then it wasn’t long after that that the thought of going there, to that huge city, with all those millions of people, mingled with Daisy’s worst nightmares. Here, though, was a tree that fulfilled all of her childish dreams and more. Even in the daylight it glowed with myriad sparkling lights, so many the tree beneath was scarcely visible, but it seemed to Daisy symbolic of something that she had forgotten long ago.

  She could feel her heart begin to beat faster as everything else came rushing in at her; the good-natured shouts from the market traders, the hum of cheerful chatter, piped music and something undefinable that just felt like energy, as if the very place was alive with it. Perhaps it was; Daisy had never seen anywhere so vibrant before. Her eyes darted one way and then the other. She lifted her head, smelling something intensely savoury, smoke, and then… something so very familiar to her, something from her childhood that she could scarcely remember. It tugged at her memories and she had to put out a hand on Bertie’s arm to steady the swirl of sensations and emotions. It was sweet, so very sweet…