by Emma Davies
‘Did you make this, Grace?’ she asked, her eyes roving over the stunning details in front of her. She didn’t really need to wait for the answering nod. ‘I think it’s amazing.’
Grace touched a hand to the fabric, smiling warmly. ‘I’m really pleased you like it. The leaves within are preserved in glycerine, just like Flora was explaining on the course. It means that they stay pliable, but more importantly they keep all their gorgeous colour.’
Daisy nodded, mentally adding what she had seen to her list of facts about Grace, some of which she was sure would be used to provide inspiration for the piece of jewellery that she would be making. There was colour and texture everywhere in this hallway, but the effect was very understated and elegant, much like Grace herself.
‘So, are you a florist too?’
‘No, just a keen gardener. Whatever the season I try to bring as much of the outside, inside, but I’ve always loved finding new ways of using plants and flowers as decoration. That’s why I’m so intrigued to see your wreath.’ She pointed to the bag that Daisy was still holding. ‘Is that it?’
Daisy looked up, spotting Amos at the end of the hallway.
‘Hello again,’ he said, coming forward. ‘Come and get warm, Daisy, it’s bitter out there tonight.’
‘Yes, do,’ said Grace. ‘The fire’s lit and it’s about time someone else hogged it other than Amos.’ She smiled at him fondly and Daisy caught a flash of something passing between them.
Amos noticed her slight frown. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said, smiling. ‘Let’s just say that having done without creature comforts for quite some time until fairly recently, I’m somewhat of a convert to the lure of an open fire and a cosy armchair.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ replied Daisy. ‘It’s the first thing I do when I get home.’ She was about to ask Amos if he’d been away, when Grace touched her arm lightly.
‘I’ll take your coat,’ she said. ‘Dinner won’t be long, but we’ve time enough for a little chat first. Can I get you something to drink?’
Daisy could feel herself flushing. She had almost forgotten that she would be eating with them. ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you. But I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble,’ she said, praying that Grace would say no she hadn’t, and was cheese on toast all right? She really hoped it wouldn’t be something complicated or swimming in a sauce, she wasn’t at all sure she could cope with that.
‘I love cooking,’ replied Grace. ‘So it’s not too much trouble at all, but do you know I often think that just simple things are best, provided they’re cooked well. So I’ve gone with soup, plus some wedges of fresh bread. I hope that’s okay. I thought it might be just the thing for a cold night.’
Daisy slowly released the breath she was holding. She hardly dare hope…
Grace grinned. ‘Please tell me you like tomato soup, otherwise it might well have to be beans on toast.’
Daisy couldn’t quite believe her luck. ‘My favourite actually,’ she replied, finally beginning to relax.
‘Perfect,’ said Amos. ‘Now, come and get settled by the fire.’ He waited until Grace had walked away before giving her a surreptitious wink. ‘And we can have a covert chat while Grace is in the kitchen,’ he whispered.
Amos led the way into another beautifully elegant space, a large and airy room, but warm and cosy too, with rich coloured throws on the chairs and several thick rugs laid over a polished wood floor. One corner of the room was dominated by a Christmas tree which sparkled with silver stars, its only other adornment huge creamy poinsettia heads. Daisy went forward for a closer look. Surely they couldn’t be real? She smiled as she touched one. They weren’t real – although she wouldn’t have put it past Grace to make that magic happen – but, even so, the effect was stunning. She turned back to look at Amos’s expectant face.
‘So what have you told, Grace?’ she asked, keeping her voice low. ‘I don’t want to put my foot in it.’
Amos kept one eye on the door. ‘Very little. Only that Ned had remarked on what you were making on the course when he passed through the shed at some point and mentioned to me afterwards that he was looking for something unique as a Christmas gift for Flora. It was me that suggested you could make something and naturally I offered Grace as the person who could help you to design something that Flora would really love.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Given that us men are all hopeless when it comes to choosing presents…’
Daisy smiled. ‘You’d be surprised how many are, actually,’ she replied. ‘They all stagger into the shop on Christmas Eve totally panic-stricken. Not you though, obviously.’
‘Although I haven’t given you much time, have I? Christmas is only two weeks away.’
Daisy thought of the other commission that she hoped to gain. It wasn’t ideal timing at all. ‘It will be fine,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’ The words left her lips before she even thought about them, but it was such an odd thing for her to say. She wasn’t used to reassuring anyone; it was usually her in need. ‘Hopefully this evening will give me plenty of ideas and I’ll be inspired.’ She looked around her. ‘Even just being here helps actually.’
There was a rattle of crockery from the hallway and she exchanged a look with Amos. He put a finger to his lips, grinning.
Moments later Grace appeared, carrying a tray laden with mugs and a plate of mince pies.
‘We’ll probably all be heartily sick of these come Christmas, so I won’t be offended if you don’t take one,’ said Grace, putting down the tray onto a coffee table. ‘Even though they are homemade and I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all afternoon.’ She broke into a broad smile. ‘Just teasing, although if you do want one, be quick or Amos will beat you to it.’
Amos patted his stomach, which was as flat as a pancake. ‘I have a dreadfully sweet tooth, I’m afraid. I’ll be the size of a house soon.’
Daisy sat down on the nearest chair. She hadn’t the heart to tell Grace that she couldn’t cope with the gloopy mess of mincemeat inside the pie. The pastry was lovely, but the rest…
‘Just the tea will be lovely, thank you. I’m really looking forward to my soup, I don’t want to spoil it.’
‘Well, I can’t wait to see what’s in that bag, Daisy,’ said Grace, handing her a mug. ‘I didn’t get much of a chance to look at what you were making the other day but, from what I’ve heard, it sounds like just the sort of thing that Flora will love. Have you been making jewellery long? I guess working in a place like Buchanans must be heaven for you. Is that where you trained?’
Daisy darted a nervous look at Amos. ‘Erm… no, they don’t really know about it. In fact, they don’t know about it at all. It’s a secret...’
11
Tuesday 10th December
Fifteen shopping days until Christmas
Amos shifted in his seat. ‘A secret?’ His voice was tinged with anxiety.
Daisy was caught. Amos would surely realise that he had let the cat out of the bag the other day in the shop and, although she didn’t wish to make him feel bad, she couldn’t possibly say anything to reassure him. Grace mustn’t even know he had ever been in the shop.
Grace shot Amos a look. ‘Why is it a secret?’
‘It’s a bit awkward really,’ Daisy replied. ‘Buchanans isn’t the kind of shop that would sell the things I’d make. The things they sell are…’
‘Well out of my league,’ said Grace, picking up her own drink. She smiled. ‘And fortunately, not my cup of tea. I hope you don’t mind me saying but I find that style of jewellery rather cold and clinical – I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything in their window that could beat the beauty of a flower or the dewdrops on the grass of a morning, and I can get those for free. Sorry,’ she added, looking a little sheepish.
‘No, don’t apologise,’ said Daisy. ‘They’re really not my thing either. I can appreciate the quality of the workmanship, and the stones do have a beauty, in their own way, but… it often seems to me that people buy thing
s simply because of their expense, as if that says almost as much as the piece of jewellery itself, if not more.’
She took a sip of her tea. It was strong, just how she liked it. ‘I’ve worked at Buchanans for eight years and the one thing I do love is hearing people’s stories, and there always is a story. People tell me all these very personal things, and yet the jewellery itself seems so impersonal. I’ve never been able to figure that out about what we sell; surely the very least it should be is personal?’
Amos was studying her, frowning a little. ‘So wouldn’t what you could offer provide their customers with a very real choice? Your boss might be very keen to see what you design.’
Daisy laughed. ‘Trust me, she wouldn’t. Bea wears diamonds like other people wear a coat if it’s cold. And it has to be of the very highest quality, that’s always been her watchword as far as Buchanans goes.’
‘And quality equals expense, does it?’ queried Amos.
‘In her world, yes, I’m afraid it does.’
Grace nodded. ‘And this is why you’ve never opened up about your own skills, is that right? Because you think people will laugh at the things you make?’
‘I know they would,’ said Daisy. She could almost hear Lawrence’s sneering voice now. ‘They’ll think what I do worthless.’
There was silence for a moment and then Grace cleared her throat, exchanging a look with Amos that she couldn’t quite fathom. ‘When I first met you, Daisy, you mentioned that you’d been to see Hope Blooms not long after it first opened. But I’m not sure if you were aware that just a few short months before that the place was full of cattle.’
Daisy nodded. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Flora mentioned it on Friday.’
‘Well then it might also interest you to learn that around the same time I was going through some considerable changes of my own. My marriage had fallen apart and I was facing the very real possibility of losing this place.’ She looked around her at the beautiful room. ‘And that was a huge problem for me because during the thirty-odd years of my marriage I’d lost so much self-esteem, and thought myself so worthless, that I had become practically a recluse. My house was all I cared about. In fact, I didn’t think I could exist outside of it, but, mainly due to this wonderful man here, I found out that what I had thought was my shield and protector was actually my prison cell…’
Daisy swallowed. Grace had just described her almost to the letter.
‘… And I’m wondering if perhaps the same is true for you. Buchanans offers you safety, but it might also be holding you back.’ She sat back, smiling. ‘I think you should show us what you’ve made now because, if I’m not much mistaken, there is something inside of you that’s desperate to make itself known, and talent like that shouldn’t ever be hidden away.’
Daisy didn’t know what to say. They were such lovely words and she never imagined she would ever hear anyone say those things about her. She dipped her head in acknowledgement and grinned, taking another sip of her tea to fortify herself. Then she bent down to the bag at her feet and lifted her wreath free from its covering. Shyly, she handed it to Grace.
Grace lifted it, holding it a moment at a slight distance before resting it lightly on her lap, her eyes roving over the detail. Her fingertips danced across the foliage, tracing a leaf here and a petal there, and then when she had had her fill, she angled the wreath towards the light, holding it closer so that she could study what lay at its heart.
The seconds ticked by and, as a log shifted on the fire, Daisy realised she was holding her breath. She tried to let it out slowly, remembering to take another as she did so. Eventually, Grace lifted her eyes.
‘I don’t think I have ever seen anything like this before,’ she said, her face lit up with a warm smile. ‘The wreath itself is beautiful, stunning actually – the colours you’ve used, the placement of the pieces and the way you’ve contrasted everything.’ Her fingertip rested lightly on one of the leaves. ‘And these are actually silver?’
Daisy nodded, her own eyes tracing the trails of ivy she had made and woven in among the foliage.
‘They’re wired, so you can take it out and wear it. I’ve designed it as a circlet – there are clasps on the end which are hidden at the moment. The centrepiece can clip onto it as well, so, if you want, you can wear the whole thing as one piece, or wear one as a necklace and the other as a brooch. In my mind, I pictured it as something a bride might wear, you know, for a winter wedding or something. I don’t know though…’
Grace was staring at her. ‘That’s… incredible… I don’t know what to say.’ She looked back down and then up again before switching her gaze to Amos. ‘Did you know they were like this?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Described, but…’ He held out his hand so that Grace could pass the wreath across to him and Daisy realised that this would be the first time he would see what she was capable of.
‘Do you want me to unfasten it, so you can see the whole thing?’
Two heads nodded in unison.
Turning the wreath over, Daisy gently unclipped the centrepiece and handed it to Grace so that she could have a closer look. Made entirely from the silver clay, it had started off life as a silver disc about the size of a fifty-pence piece, but Daisy had added a series of tiny flower heads to it, each made from a number of petals, formed to resemble those of the hydrangea heads. The edges of the disc were softened with leaf shapes, some flat, some with curling edges. It was such a simple design but so exquisitely intricate.
It took only a moment to unwind the ivy trail and Daisy began to gently reshape the central wire so that it formed a circular shape, the leaves turning this way and that along its length. She fastened the clip and held it up for inspection. On Grace’s elegant neck it would look beautiful all by itself but, even as she contemplated how it might look, she realised that she had begun to form an idea of what she could make for Grace. Her eyes widened in excitement at the possibilities that filled her head. She would try and put her ideas to Amos if they had a few minutes alone again during the evening, but she was sure he would agree; she’d only had to listen to Grace’s words to know that she was on the right track.
‘Flora is going to absolutely love this,’ said Grace, shaking her head in wonder. ‘I know you wanted some more information about her so that you could create something unique, but heavens, Daisy, this is perfect.’
Daisy had almost forgotten that that was supposed to be the reason she was there. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. ‘I know she loves flowers obviously, but…’
‘No, the ivy is perfect too,’ broke in Amos. ‘Because it symbolises growth, opportunity and determination. Friendship too, actually, and I never met anyone for whom that was a more perfect description.’
‘Oh, yes you’re right!’ said Grace. ‘I’d forgotten that. But Flora will definitely know the associations. I’ve often heard her referencing things like that when she’s chatting to brides about their bouquets.’ She grinned. ‘It’s so romantic, it sways the punters every time.’ She rolled her eyes, and Daisy laughed.
‘Is it really as easy as all that?’ she said. ‘I thought I was going to leave today having written pages of notes about Flora and then spend ages trying to come up with something. But from what you’re saying you think this might actually be it, I can’t quite believe it.’
Amos leaned forward. ‘Ah, but you’re forgetting that when something is meant to be, it’s usually very simple…’
He held her look, his expression easy to read, and she blushed. His faith in her was quite astonishing given the relatively few times they had met, and she had to remind herself that there wasn’t actually an intended recipient of the necklace; this was just a trial run, a prototype to see if her idea actually worked, if anyone other than her thought it was beautiful. And her real job was only just beginning. Except that… She looked across at Grace, who was still holding the necklace in wonder, and she realised that actually she didn’t need any more insight into Gr
ace’s character; if the gift she was going to make were a song, then she already had all the notes.
Grace ran her finger across one of the silver ivy leaves before handing it back to Daisy with a soft sigh. ‘I’ll just go and check on the soup,’ she said. ‘But we’re also going to have to work out what we’re going to say to Flora, because I know she’s dying to see how your wreath turned out, Daisy, but there’s no way we can let her see this.’
‘Oh…’ Amos grinned. ‘Oops, I hadn’t thought about that.’ He picked up his mug and took several swallows, waiting until Grace had left the room and was out of earshot.
‘Well, that didn’t go quite the way I thought it would,’ he said, still keeping his voice low. ‘I thought it would take ages for you and Grace to work out what would make the perfect gift for Flora, and that by hearing Grace talk about her own likes and dislikes it would help you. Now what do we do?’
His look was full of apology, but Daisy just smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s quite the strangest thing, but I already have in my head the image of how I want Grace’s necklace to look. Now all I have to do is translate what I can already see into reality.’ She pulled a face. ‘That’s the scary bit.’
‘Or the exciting bit…?’
Daisy bit her lip. ‘Maybe.’
Amos sat back in his chair, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘No, I think you’re going to be just fine. Didn’t I say that right from the start?’
She gave him a quizzical look and was about to ask him how he could possibly know that, when Grace reappeared.
‘Won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Now, tell me why you don’t think your jewellery and Buchanans would be a good fit, because honestly I can’t see how they could possibly fail to be blown away by the things you make. I understand that it would be radically different from the things they sell, but surely at the very least they would encourage you with it; you’re a loyal employee. They could even offer you a small space to sell from – goodness only knows the retail sector is struggling at the moment and maybe a little diversity would be a good thing?’