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

by Emma Davies

  She pressed send before she could change her mind and grabbed her sandwich, praying that the afternoon would go just as quickly as the morning. She was itching to get home and make a start.

  17

  Sunday 15th December

  Ten shopping days until Christmas

  Daisy rolled over and opened an eye to squint at the clock. She hadn’t gone to bed until past midnight but, instead of falling into a deep sleep, she had still been so excited that she’d woken nearly every hour, itching to get back up again. She almost did at five o’clock but then willed herself to sleep again until a more sensible hour. The clock now showed six forty-five and she flung back the covers with relief.

  It was cold in the bedroom and she thrust her feet into her fluffy slippers, pulling her dressing gown from the end of the bed as she did so. There’d been another light fall of snow in the night and the view from her window was breathtaking. But first things first.

  She relit the fire in the sitting room before setting the kettle to boil and contemplated the day ahead. She was meeting Amos at eleven and he was the first visitor she’d had to her little cottage in what felt like years. She looked around it with a critical eye as she sipped the first cup of tea of the day. It was clean and tidy and, beyond that, simple and homely. Besides, there was nothing she could do about it now, and today wasn’t about winning awards for her interior design. The thought made her stomach leap in nervous excitement.

  She had rushed home from work the night before, eaten several quick slices of toast and got straight to work on Grace’s present. By eight o’clock she had done enough to know that she could go no further without Amos’s approval. So, with an apology for the lateness of the hour, she had sent a text asking if she could see him. His reply had arrived within five minutes and he declared it to be perfect timing: he would be running some errands for the farm the next morning and so would call in on her if she could provide directions to where she lived. Daisy hadn’t given it another thought but sent them straight back. It was only afterwards that she had realised what a first this was for her.

  After finishing her design for Amos last night, she had turned her attention to everything else that was humming through her brain, shocked to discover as she had laid her pencil down quite how late it was. But she had covered the pages in her sketchbook with ideas that flowed out of her as if she’d opened a tap. And they were good, she could see that. It was as if something had shifted inside of her but, whatever it was, the results were plain to see. The very last thing she had done before she went to bed was annotate some of her designs and photograph them so that it was clear just what she was trying to achieve. Then she attached them to a message which she sent to NickCarr1 with a simple query:

  On the right track?

  She hadn’t received a reply yet, but that was hardly surprising given the hour.

  Rinsing out her mug, she set it ready for her second cup of tea which she would have with her breakfast and then went to get dressed. She needed some stillness back inside of her and there was only one place she could get that.

  The canal path was deserted. Even the regular dog walkers weren’t up and about yet, but Daisy was glad of it. Her feet were the first to lay a trail through the soft snow, or at least the first human feet. The blackbirds had been out dancing and, by the look of it, something small and furry had scurried past on more than one occasion. Other than that, however, the landscape was a clean white sheet and Daisy breathed in deeply as she made her way through the wintry world.

  It wasn’t just the rising tide of excitement about her jewellery that was occupying Daisy’s head, there were a whole cast of characters clamouring to be heard, not least of all Kit. The transformation of the day she had shared with Lawrence couldn’t have been more pronounced and, ever since, she had found herself thinking about Kit more than she cared to admit. And he hadn’t just posted her car keys through the door as he’d described. He’d slipped them inside an envelope with part of a poem by Walt Whitman. How did he even know that she loved his work? It was such a lovely gesture, it made her feel, well, a little bit gooey inside, if truth were told, and that was usually only something that happened to the heroines in the books she read.

  And thinking about Kit inevitably led her to thinking about Bertie, and Lawrence too to some degree. Bertie had ended up staying at the shop the whole of the afternoon yesterday and it had been fun – busy, but he was such a natural with the customers that the banter had kept them all going. It made her think what it could be like to have Bertie there the whole time… and what Bea had made of it all.

  Daisy had caught Bea watching her and Bertie on a couple of occasions and, given their conversation in the morning, she was dying to know what her boss had been thinking. In fact, it had crossed her mind on more than one occasion to come clean to Bea about her jewellery-making, but she knew she mustn’t, it would make a mockery of the whole competition.

  Her breath hung in the air as she walked and she lifted her head to scent the smoke which was drifting along from the narrowboat moored further up the canal. A thin coil of it rose straight into the air from the chimney and she’d always loved the smell. As she drew closer she could see that a little Christmas tree had been put up on the stern at some point over the weekend, just like the one she’d seen in Nottingham, and that Robin was already up and about enjoying his first cigarette of the day.

  He raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘Land ahoy!’

  She smiled. It was his regular greeting.

  ‘Beautiful morning,’ she said.

  Robin just grinned. ‘Still night, I haven’t been to bed yet…’

  ‘Oh…’

  ‘The elusive plot twist, which has been missing for days, showed up about nine o’clock last night, leading to the inevitable all-nighter in case the damn thing eluded me again.’

  ‘And did it?’

  ‘No, I nailed the little bugger.’

  Daisy smiled. Robin peppered his speech with swear words, but his books were elegant in their use of language. It made her like him even more. She had never been on board his boat and she probably never would. Their brief conversations were all they had, but he was as much a part of her landscape as the trees and water. She waved a hand and walked on.

  ‘Enjoy your sleep,’ she called as she passed.

  Half an hour later she was home again, refreshed and buzzing with energy. No nearer to resolving the complex thoughts in her head but at least they weren’t shouting at her quite so loudly now. Her phone pinged as she opened the front door and a brief message flashed up on the screen.

  NickCarr1: Nail hit squarely on the head. You are a genius! Please proceed with the second design and as long as it doesn’t cost more than one arm and a leg, I’m good. In awe, Nick.

  It looked as if she was going to be rather busy…

  Amos arrived on the dot of eleven grinning from ear to ear. ‘I like your wreath,’ he said, pointing to the front door.

  ‘Yes, it’s been somewhat inspirational,’ she replied, greeting him warmly as she ushered him inside.

  ‘And what an amazing place to live. If it hadn’t been for your brilliant directions, I would never have known this place was here.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘No, it’s not every day that directions to your house include the phrase, “Turn left at the lock gate and then follow the hedge.”’ She took his coat and then invited him straight into the sitting room where not only was there a roaring fire, but her work table, spread with everything she had been working on.

  Amos looked around him. ‘This is just how I imagined it to be,’ he said. ‘You suit one another… the house and you,’ he added, in response to her curious expression. ‘You’d be surprised, but some people don’t ever get along with their houses.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve always thought we make a good pair.’ It was something she had always believed, but had never spoken about to anyone else. Somehow when Amos said it though, it didn’t seem odd at all.


  He headed for the table almost immediately, his eyes lighting up as he approached. His hand reached out instinctively before taking it back at the last moment. ‘Sorry, may I?’ he asked.

  She nodded, pleased. He’d been reaching for the tiny bee she had made yesterday evening and she’d only just finished polishing it. She watched as he held it closer, turning it this way and that to see the detail. He paused in his observation, his eyes sweeping the page of her sketchbook, and she could see him make the mental connection between what he held in his hand and what she had drawn. He looked up, eyes wide.

  ‘Daisy, this is incredible. These things… they’re perfect. All of them. And apart from the bee, I don’t remember even talking about them and yet, they are Grace… you have captured the essence of her beautifully. I really don’t know what to say.’

  Daisy could see that he was struggling, his emotions very close to the surface but he made no move to hide them. She felt a moment’s discomfort that she had caused such a reaction, but then it hit her – she had made him feel that way, her jewellery had moved him almost to tears, and a sudden elation rose in her.

  She traced a finger across the sketched design on the page. ‘This is silver wire,’ she said. ‘It’s very delicate, but stronger than you’d think. I’m hoping it will connect everything in a way that will make it seem as if all the elements are floating. Ethereal, I think you said.’

  ‘I did… but I never thought for one minute…’ His gaze was still fixed on the table, but then he looked up at her. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Daisy. Grace will absolutely love this, and it’s everything I could possibly have wished for.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘Well I haven’t made it yet, so hold that thought until I have. It may all go horribly wrong.’

  But Amos was shaking his head. ‘No, it won’t. This has been right from the very start. I knew it the first minute I met you.’

  ‘Yes, you did, didn’t you? I wonder why that was?’

  ‘Perhaps I saw a little spark of something.’ He was grinning at her. ‘And all it needed was feeding, just like your beautiful fire.’ He looked back down at the table and then she saw his gaze shifting to another set of drawings. He pulled one closer.

  ‘These look a little like the prints that Flora makes,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were a painter too?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I was just messing with an idea I’d had.’ She tipped her head to one side, studying her sketch. ‘I couldn’t remember the detail, but it was more the composition I was after.’ She picked up a small daisy head she had been working on, still in its rough clay form. ‘You see, I rather thought that if the prints were big enough I might be able to add something… or perhaps if just a part of the design were made bigger, maybe on a card instead of a print. I’m not really sure…’ She was still turning the daisy over in her hand when Amos took it from her.

  ‘So where does this go?’ he asked.

  Daisy pointed to the flower head on the page. Her little clay model was an almost exact replica. ‘I think it’s going to be a pendant,’ she said. ‘I just need to work out a way to fix it so that once it’s removed it doesn’t damage the original artwork, that’s if it works at all…’

  Amos gently placed the clay against the flower head. ‘Like this?’ he asked, looking at her to check he’d got it right.

  ‘Yes, you see, I could—’

  ‘No, I get it,’ interrupted Amos. ‘I’m just not sure why you’re being hesitant.’

  ‘Because Flora’s prints are so lovely all by themselves and—’ She broke off, aware that Amos was no longer looking at the page but at her, searching her face. ‘Just that I don’t want to ruin them. I wondered if it wasn’t a bit arrogant, seeking to add something to her prints when they’re already beautiful and don’t need any embellishment.’

  ‘But your jewellery stands on its own two feet just as well as her prints, and what you’re thinking about here is joining two works of art to make a third and that’s something completely different. I don’t think it’s arrogant at all and, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe Flora will either. Inspired collaboration is what it is.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘Well, not yet it isn’t but, maybe one day…’

  Amos looked at his watch. ‘Well, we could always go and find out.’

  ‘Sorry…?’

  ‘I was running errands for the farm this morning,’ he replied. ‘So I’m going back there soon. If you’re not doing anything else, come with me. We can go and ask Flora just what she thinks.’

  Daisy’s hand fluttered to her cheek. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that! Not without asking. I mean, it’s Sunday and—’

  ‘And Flora will be busy selling Christmas floral decorations, and very much working. So, no, you won’t be interrupting her if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘No, but she still won’t be expecting me.’

  Amos grinned. ‘Daisy, the farm is open to the public…’ He raised his eyebrows in amusement. ‘Come on, grab your coat.’

  Daisy stood her ground. ‘Erm, we were supposed to be discussing Grace’s present. And I can’t get on and make it unless we do.’

  But Amos was just as adamant. ‘What’s to discuss? I think it’s perfect and I would like you to make it exactly as you have described.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘And I’m not just saying that to get you out of the house. I can’t think of a single thing I would change. I’m not sure how you’ve done it, but it looks to me like a little bit of magic.’

  His dark eyes twinkled at her and Daisy knew when she was beaten. She picked up her pieces of clay and closed the sketchbook. ‘Give me ten minutes,’ she said.

  She was ready in half that time, snatching the wreath from the front door on their way out as she remembered that Flora hadn’t seen it yet. Amos insisted that she bring everything, including the design for Grace’s necklace, and minutes later they were on their way back to Hope Corner Farm.

  Daisy scarcely had time to think about what was happening to her, something which seemed to be occurring with increasing frequency these days, but with Amos chattering away she didn’t have time to be nervous either. By the time they arrived she was more excited than anything. And it was lovely to be back.

  They met Flora’s husband, Ned, on their way in. He was just coming through the gate, almost hidden under a pile of greenery that he was carrying out to a customer’s car.

  ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ he called out as he passed.

  Amos held back to wait for Ned to finish his task. He would need his help to unload his van, currently stacked with the logs that were the result of his earlier errand. But he waved Daisy on with an encouraging smile, suggesting that she should go and find Flora who would be in the old milking shed. Daisy took a deep breath and walked purposefully across the yard.

  There could be no doubt what Flora was selling as Daisy approached the shed. Beautiful wreaths and festive garlands lined the route and there were also small trees and a barrowload of mistletoe tied into sprigs with red bows.

  Another two people passed Daisy on her way out but, when she pushed open the shed door, she was pleased to find Flora alone, downing a cup of tea by the looks of things. Flora waved when she saw Daisy, flapping her hand as she finished drinking.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Long overdue and nearly cold, but very welcome.’ She puffed out her cheeks which were bright pink and, despite the fact that they clashed rather with her bright red jumper covered in snowy white pom-poms, Daisy thought she looked wonderful. Her eyes were shining with happiness.

  ‘Have you brought your wreath to show me?’ she asked. ‘I do hope so, I was only saying to Grace the other day that I wondered if you’d finished it, but she thought you’d probably been too busy.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘I think she was being tactful,’ she replied. ‘She still thinks I’m making you a Christmas present from Ned, don’t forget.’

  Flora tapped her head. ‘Oh, of course… How’s that going anyway?’ And then her eyes l
it up. ‘Have you brought that as well? Can I see it?’

  ‘Well, not exactly. The wreath yes, Grace’s present is still just sketches and a few samples at the moment, but that’s kind of why I’m here. Amos came to see me this morning to see how far I’d got and, well, he suggested I came...’

  Flora nodded, her curls bouncing with excitement, and indicated a table at the far end of the room. ‘Come and sit down and you can show me.’

  Daisy followed her down the room. ‘He seemed to really like what I have in mind for Grace, but there’s… something else as well.’ She broke off, unsure quite how to continue, or even whether she should, despite what Amos had said.

  But Flora wasn’t quite so reticent. ‘Well, that sounds intriguing. I’m dying to see what you’ve been up to.’ She sat down at the table. ‘I want to see it all, so first things first, let’s have a look at the wreath.’

  Daisy dutifully removed the decoration from her bag and placed it on the table. ‘So this is just the floral part…’ she began, as Flora immediately picked it up and held it in the air for a better look.

  ‘Look at those colours!’ she exclaimed. ‘Daisy, you’ve done so well with this. It absolutely works, all of it. Are you pleased?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘I’ve had it hanging on my front door.’

  ‘So I should hope. And the silver…?’ She leaned forward eagerly, replacing the wreath on the table, waiting as Daisy fished back in her bag, bringing forth the small pouch that held them.

  ‘It was this that got me thinking really…’ Daisy held up the circlet of ivy leaves that she had shown to Grace and, undoing the clasp, began to entwine it with the wreath. ‘So there’s this, which you can wear as a necklace by itself, or, if you want, I made a centrepiece for it as well, so you can wear them together or this second piece just as a brooch. They attach together, see? Or of course you can leave them both on the wreath. I probably haven’t placed it quite right, but you get the idea.’