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

by Emma Davies

  He smiled a little sadly. ‘Perhaps it’s just that I know what it feels like to stand in a room full of people and feel so utterly lonely. I don’t think I’ve ever fitted in, and I realised pretty early on that the things I wanted from my life were different from what other people did. But I always hoped that one day I would meet, not just someone who understood, but someone who was like me, who wanted the same things I did.’

  ‘Oh…’ Her hand hovered somewhere around her mouth.

  ‘And some while ago I asked Mum about you, about your family, and she gave me one of those looks, you know the ones I mean… She said, quite rightly of course, that if I wanted to know more about you that I should actually ask you, not her. I’ve kind of been trying to pluck up the courage ever since, and when you mentioned your dad the other day, well, I think I just decided that perhaps now was the right time. Because I do want to find out more about you, Daisy. I want that very much indeed.’

  Daisy had almost given up hope of ever finding anyone like that, resigning herself to reading about them instead between the pages of romance novels.

  ‘I’m not very good with stuff like this, Kit…’

  ‘Then let’s just take it one day at a time.’ He turned around to glance at the oven. ‘And for now we can simply eat and chat. If nothing else I can amaze you with my culinary expertise.’ His eyes twinkled and Daisy realised it was as simple as that.

  ‘Tell me again what’s in this?’ she asked, as she forked in another mouthful of food ten minutes later. ‘Because I can’t believe it’s as easy as you say it is.’ She looked down at her plate of rapidly disappearing food, a little pool of sauce oozing out from under a golden crust. A few weeks ago it would have been her worst nightmare.

  Kit paused, just about to take another bite himself. ‘It really is. Just some root vegetables; carrots and parsnips, together with some baby onions and mushrooms, cooked in a white sauce and then topped with a cheesy breadcrumb crust.’

  ‘But it doesn’t taste like any of those things,’ said Daisy. ‘There must be something else in it.’

  ‘A little mustard and tarragon to flavour the sauce, but that’s all, I promise you.’

  ‘And it all came out of your garden?’

  Kit nodded. ‘Apart from the mushrooms, yes.’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘And I go home most nights and heat up a tin of either mushroom or tomato soup. I’m ashamed of myself.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s honest enough food, just not as tasty. In my opinion anyway.’

  ‘I guess it’s something else that just came about because of how things were… before. There wasn’t always a lot of food and I ate what was cheap, or what I could get hold of. And somewhere along the line it became part of the way I am, part of who I am. And I’ve never had cause to question it before now.’

  An agitated expression crossed Kit’s face. ‘But you shouldn’t give yourself a hard time, Daisy. Everything you are is testament to how strong a person you’ve had to be. Change if you want to, but not because you feel you should. I’m sorry if you feel pressured.’

  She was quick to smile. ‘No, that’s just it. I do want things to change, and suddenly I can begin to see a way through, perhaps to the future that I’ve always wanted. The last couple of weeks have been… unusual to say the least, but they have helped me to see that I can be different. Maybe it’s not quite as hard as I thought it was going to be.’ She pressed her lips together, her fork idling on her plate as she contemplated just how much she should tell Kit. But then he knew about pretty much everything else…

  ‘You see, I’ve been making things,’ she continued. ‘Jewellery actually, and I don’t know, but I’m wondering whether it might be something I could be good at.’

  Kit had just been about to take another bite of food and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowered it again. ‘What kind of jewellery?’ he said slowly. ‘Somehow I get the feeling it’s not just clay beads.’

  ‘Not quite,’ replied Daisy. ‘Made from clay, but silver clay actually. Flowers and leaves and everything I see in the world around me. But they’re not proper jewellery, not like Buchanans sells, and I don’t even know if they’re any good.’

  Kit had a puzzled expression on his face. ‘But why didn’t you tell anyone? We could have helped you, or… something, I don’t know.’

  ‘But how could I tell you, Kit? Think about it. If I told anyone now it would ruin the competition, and be tantamount to cheating. I’ve probably already told you too much. When I first started making things, I didn’t tell anyone because I thought you’d all laugh at me. I mean, Buchanans sells gems which cost thousands of pounds, and which are… not my cup of tea admittedly, but still very fine jewellery. By comparison my designs are, well, there is no comparison. It would be like trying to compare a symphony with a child blowing a recorder out of tune. I would have felt so stupid showing them to Bea… Except that in any case, now it’s all different, because if I showed any one of you my designs, you would instantly know how to win the competition and that would be the worst kind of betrayal.’

  She swallowed, clearing her throat a little. ‘None of you know this, but Bea knew my grandmother, and she took me in when I was seventeen, and gave me a job knowing I had nothing. It’s what has kept me going all these years. How can I betray her loyalty? I won’t do it, Kit.’

  Kit nodded as he took in what she was saying, but he still looked confused. ‘I can understand that, but this is your future, Daisy.’ He thought for a second. ‘One thing I am curious about though.’

  She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘At work, you wear jewellery from the shop, and I know that you do it just to advertise what we sell. It’s not the real you and I can tell you don’t like it.’ He grimaced. ‘And for very obvious reasons I’ve been paying attention to what you do wear just recently, but you don’t, do you? Even tonight when you are definitely off duty, you’re not wearing any jewellery, and I wondered why that was…’

  Daisy couldn’t help but give a wry smile. It was the one thing throughout this whole situation that she had found incredibly ironic. In fact, part of her wondered if it was why Bea had chosen to do what she had – simply because Daisy herself wouldn’t be giving any clues. She chewed another mouthful of food thoughtfully, savouring the taste.

  ‘I don’t wear any jewellery because I don’t own any,’ she replied. ‘So it’s really pretty simple.’ She dropped her head.

  ‘Although that’s not the whole story of course…’ said Kit

  She looked back up, surprised at his intuition. She sighed. ‘No… I don’t own any jewellery because I learned not to own things from a very early age. Everything I ever had was taken away from me, to sell usually, or as punishment. Birthday presents from relatives, Christmas too, and I never knew where the things went. But there was one thing I’d kept hidden, a tiny silver locket that my grandmother had given to me. I used to wear it sometimes when I knew I was alone in the house but, one day, I must have got distracted and forgotten to take it off, until it too was ripped from my throat. It was the last piece of jewellery I ever owned.’

  Kit swallowed. ‘Oh, Daisy…’

  She lifted her chin a little. ‘As I got older I vowed never to own anything just for the sake of it, but only if it really meant something to me. Now I don’t own many things because it’s not possible for everything to be special. The more you have, the more the sheer weight of possessions dilutes the importance of those you already have.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know if that makes any sense at all.’

  Kit was thinking. ‘Although if you lived in a house that had taken you years to build, that indeed you had built yourself, and if you had made everything that went in that house, and what you couldn’t make you chose carefully, only on the basis that it either fulfilled a function or brought you joy, then I think you would understand.’ He reached out his hand across the table. ‘I think you would understand very well indeed.’

  Hi
s eyes were tender as he slid his hand into hers.

  ‘Just as I think that now is the right time for you to finally let go of some of the things from your past and work towards the kind of future that you want. Make your jewellery, Daisy, no one is going to laugh at you. In fact, far from it, how could they when it’s so beautiful? Who knows what’s going to happen at Buchanans, but things are changing, and maybe now’s the time for them to change for you too.’

  She smiled and was just about to answer when her breath caught in her throat. She stared at him.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘That maybe it’s time for things to change for you too…’

  ‘No, before that… You said that no one would laugh at my jewellery designs because they were beautiful… How could you possibly know that?’

  She shot up from the table and marched out of the kitchen, the sound of Kit’s chair scraping hideously across the floor following her.

  ‘Daisy, wait! Daisy! Look, let me explain. It’s not what it sounds like…’

  She whirled around.

  ‘No? You’ve let me just pour my heart out to you. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else, because you made me feel—’ She threw her hands up in disgust. ‘It doesn’t matter how you made me feel… and, Christ, you even had your own sob story to share with me. But that’s not what this is all about, is it? You knew I was making jewellery all along and you never said anything. This whole… charade… it’s been about Buchanans the whole time—’

  ‘No, Daisy please, I would never—’

  ‘And I can’t believe I fell for it. How stupid am I?’

  She could feel tears beginning to well up and she was damned if she would let Kit see how upset she was. She had to get out, back to her own house and her place of safety.

  ‘No wonder Bea had to come up with a stupid competition to help her decide who should run the business. She wouldn’t want to choose between any of you, and neither would I…’ She trailed off. ‘Actually, I’d give it to Bertie, because he’s the only one who’s had any shred of decency throughout this whole thing. Lawrence thought he could just outright cheat by using Monique to find out what sort of jewellery I would wear, and you, you thought you could wheedle your way into my affections and, what? Did you think I’d just roll over and tell you everything you wanted to know!’

  She was furious with herself. ‘I’ve probably told you far more than I should have anyway.’

  Kit was standing six foot away from her in the hallway and, even as she glared at him, she was still aware of how impressive a building it was. He looked utterly dejected, his hands hanging limply by his sides.

  ‘Daisy, why would I even do that?’ He sighed. ‘I should have told you I knew about your jewellery-making but, just as you had reasons for keeping it quiet, I have reasons for not telling you I knew. And I’m still not going to tell you what they are, but you have to trust me.’

  She smiled bitterly. ‘Forgive me, Kit, but I’m not big on trusting people for the sake of it – it doesn’t take a genius to work out why. People have to earn my trust, and lying to me is not the right way to go about it.’

  ‘I didn’t lie, Daisy. I withheld information, exactly as you have done. You had your reasons, just as I have mine. But I promise you it has nothing to do with trying to trick you into giving me the information I need to win the competition. In fact, I’m just as keen as you are that you don’t tell me…’

  She stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. It all sounded perfectly plausible, but then it would, wouldn’t it?

  ‘Then tell me. If it has nothing to do with the competition, tell me why.’

  Kit looked as if he was trying to swallow a length of barbed wire. ‘I can’t,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Can’t, or won’t?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, what difference does that make? Can’t or won’t – it’s both, because one follows the other. If I can’t tell you but then choose to anyway, what kind of person does that make me? Surely not someone you could ever trust and yet it seems as if that’s exactly what you want me to do – break my trust.’

  She frowned. There was something in what he said, but… ‘So then it does have something to do with the competition…’

  There was silence.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Daisy, bitterly. ‘Now I have my answer.’

  Kit glared at her. He was getting angry now. ‘What do you want me to say? Okay, it has to do with the competition… happy now? Except it’s not in the way you think and seeing as I don’t recall ever giving you a reason to doubt me, it’s rather hurtful that you so obviously do.’

  He looked up to the rafters. ‘Daisy, we’re standing in a building that has taken me a quarter of my life to build. Everything in it was either made by me, or I had a hand in making it where I lacked the skill. There is nothing fake or pretend about it. It is everything I believe in and everything I have dreamed of during all that time. You couldn’t find anything that’s a truer validation of who I am, so why do you find it so hard to believe me?’

  She looked around her, at the very visible of proof of what Kit had just said, but trust went a whole lot deeper than just a few words. For all Daisy knew, that was exactly why Kit had chosen his home as the place where he could get to know her better.

  ‘Because I wanted to believe you, Kit. I wanted you to be different. But you’re not. You’re just the same as everyone else who manipulates the truth to get what they want. You can dress it up any way you want.’ She went to put her wellies back on. ‘And I’d like my coat, please, I’m going home.’

  ‘Daisy, please. This is silly… It’s a misunderstanding, that’s all. Can’t we just—’

  ‘I said I’d like my coat, please.’

  ‘What? And you’re just going to walk out, are you? With no torch, and no moon to light your way.’

  ‘Yes, well, as you so thoughtfully showed me the way the other night, I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  His eyes narrowed as he searched her face and, just at the moment when she could bear it no longer, he turned on his heels. She stood by the front door, her cheeks burning, not even knowing if he would return. But he did, less than a minute later, holding her coat. He was wearing his own and in his other hand he held his car keys.

  ‘I’m taking you home,’ he said. ‘If you won’t listen to reason, then I’m not being held responsible for you falling in a ditch and breaking your neck.’

  ‘I don’t need your help, I said I’d be fine.’

  ‘Tough.’

  Walking across the field was bad enough, but the car ride home was one of the most excruciating Daisy had ever experienced. Neither of them said a word the whole way, and yet Kit was unfailingly polite, checking to see she hadn’t stumbled, holding open the car door for her. But if anything it made her even more infuriated. She wanted him to scream and shout at her, so that she could feel justified in her anger at him. But he clearly wasn’t going to and so, instead, she endured a suffocating silence.

  Minutes later he pulled into the space beside her car and turned off the engine. She didn’t know what to do. Her anger had cooled on the way and Kit’s lack of retaliation had allowed doubt to creep into her mind; with it had come guilt. She risked a tiny peep at him out of the corner of her eye, but he was looking straight ahead, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. She should say something…

  ‘I think your house is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, Kit, and I want to thank you for showing it to me.’ She hated the way her voice sounded, false and somehow insincere. ‘And for dinner too, it was lovely.’

  ‘You didn’t finish it,’ said Kit quietly.

  ‘No… I’m sorry.’

  The silence stretched out.

  ‘And for bringing me home too…’

  ‘That’s okay. I think you know the way from here.’

  She swallowed.

  Her hand was resting on the door handle.

  ‘So, I’ll see you tom
orrow,’ said Kit.

  She turned then, hoping to see a glimpse of a smile, but instead Kit just looked immeasurably sad, one side of his face ghostly pale in the scant light, the other in darkness. She nodded, choking back her tears, and stumbled from the car.

  It was all a far cry from the last time Kit had brought her home. Then she had felt rescued. Tonight she felt as if she was floundering on the rocks, shipwrecked.

  She only just made it inside before the dam that was holding back her emotions broke apart. And there, in the quiet dark of her hallway, she cried for all the times she had ever felt alone. For all the times she had tried to love and care for her mother but been pushed away. For all the times the children at school laughed at her because her school uniform was dirty and stained. For all the times she had cried herself to sleep wondering what she had done wrong. And then she cried some more, because since her grandparents had died there was only one person who had made her feel like she wasn’t alone, and now she had pushed him away.

  The darkness was all encompassing when Daisy eventually stirred, rousing herself from the floor of the hallway. She was thirsty and her head ached. Her limbs were stiff from sitting on the cold tiles and her eyeballs felt rough and gritty. She licked her lips and swallowed, trying to find some moisture as she fumbled for the light switch, flinching when the dark was suddenly banished from the small space.

  She poured herself a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen and held it up to her cheek, relishing its coolness before drinking it down in one go. It was late, nearly ten o’clock, but she felt restless now, strangely empty, and there was no way she could go to bed, she would never sleep. She looked around for something to comfort her and impulsively took down the box of macarons she had bought from the delicatessen the other day. The first disappeared in a moment as she stuffed it into her mouth virtually whole. She waited until she had made herself a hot chocolate before eating the second, and the third she ate while sitting at her work table.

  As she drank, she looked again at the sketches she had made for Nick’s girlfriend and then she took out a fresh piece of silver clay from its packet and pulled her tools towards her. There was only one thing she could do in the circumstances, and so as the hands of the clock crept on towards midnight, Daisy began to make a heart.