by Emma Davies
A few minutes later, glasses were charged and an expectant hush descended once more.
‘Well, another year is almost over,’ said Bea. ‘And another Christmas at Buchanans has also come to an end. I know you have all the figures, Bertie, and it’s not been as bad a year as I feared, despite certain challenges faced by the retail industry in general. However, I don’t think I’d be telling you anything you didn’t already know if I said that things will need to change at Buchanans if it is to survive. And now the time has come to find out how. Before we start with the judging of the competition though, I would just like to say my own thank you to Daisy, for everything you have done to put Buchanans first. Your loyalty and devotion to me and Buchanans has never been in question and without that and your unstinting hard work, I truly don’t believe we would be in the position we are in now.’ She raised her glass. ‘To Daisy, may you have the happiest of Christmases…’
She blushed, just as she always did. Bea’s speech hardly ever varied, the odd word here or there, but essentially it was the same every Christmas Eve. But she meant it and Daisy was always incredibly grateful. She received Bea’s warm hug gladly, knowing that it was likely to be one of the last she received from her. She was just about to pull away, when Bea gripped both her arms and gave her another squeeze. Her eyes were shining as she laid a hand against Daisy’s cheek.
‘Darling girl,’ she said, and it was so quick, Daisy almost missed it, but there was no mistaking the fondness of the look in Bea’s eye. It made her feel quite emotional.
Releasing her, Bea returned to the table where the food had been laid out, beside which stood a much smaller table covered with the traditional Buchanans’ blue velvet cloth.
‘Now, when it is your turn, would you three boys like to place the gifts you have chosen for Daisy on here and I shall open them. As eldest, Lawrence, perhaps you would like to go first. Oh, I can’t wait to see them!’ She beamed at them all and, despite herself, Daisy felt a frisson of excitement. Bea’s mood was infectious.
Lawrence stepped forward, flashing Daisy a look that was a mixture of many things – triumph mostly, but also a warning. He was expecting to be her boss soon and it was a reminder that he would always have the last word. A pulse began to beat in her neck.
His gift was wrapped in a flat square box which she recognised as the same shape as one of their own. Did that mean it was an item from the shop? It couldn’t be though, surely she would have known if something was missing? It seemed to take Bea an inordinate amount of time to undo the tape holding the paper closed, but eventually she pulled out the box, dropping the paper onto the floor in her haste. Bea hugged it to her for a moment and then, holding it inches from her face, she lifted the lid and peered inside. Her sharp intake of breath was distinctly audible in the silent room. Eyes wide, she lowered the box.
‘Lawrence,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful, truly stunning.’
Daisy wanted to wrench the box from Bea’s hands to have a look and she was acutely aware of Kit’s eyes on her.
With trembling hands, Bea took what appeared to be a photograph from the box and held it up. ‘Lawrence, tell me why you chose this. What’s it all about?’
He strode forward and, taking the picture from his mother, turned it around so that they could all see it. Bea was right, it was incredible.
‘This is obviously an artist’s impression. Although actually it’s rather more than that, as I had my design digitally rendered in 3D so you could appreciate it better. There would have been no time to make an object as delicate or intricate as this given the time frame, but you’ll find my costings in the box underneath the satin. It comes in at exactly five thousand pounds, although to really create it the way I imagined it, the cost would be somewhere closer to fifteen thousand. I think that you can see how that would be worth it.’
The image showed a series of interlocking flower heads, each with six petals. The centre to each flower was formed from a gemstone, as were the individual petals, using two different gems in alternating colours. Each flower was also different from the other. The flower heads themselves were fused together so that they only just touched and the whole lot was suspended from a gold chain attached to the two outermost flowers. The settings alone would have been incredibly difficult to fix and the sheer variety of colours and stones was astonishing. It was, however, probably the least likely piece of jewellery Daisy would ever choose to wear. It was too colourful, far too brash and it drew attention to itself like a Belisha beacon.
‘Good God!’ It was Bertie speaking. ‘Are you sure you mean fifteen thousand? More like thirty.’
‘It’s whatever your budget will allow for,’ replied Lawrence. ‘In my example I’ve used various types of pretty, but fairly ordinary quartz, to keep the cost down a little, not precious stones at all. But I think you’ll agree, it’s the effect that is mesmerising. The design is what’s important, and what makes it so utterly perfect for Daisy.’
Bea was nodding. She looked ecstatic. ‘But what makes it so perfect, Lawrence? Why is Daisy going to love this?’
He looked momentarily taken aback. ‘Well, the flowers are like daisies, aren’t they? And that’s her name… She likes flowers, and all the colours too, bright ones, and I know she likes big bold statement pieces.’
‘I rather thought Daisy preferred more muted colours,’ said Bea, slowly, as if thinking. Daisy looked down at her navy skirt and tried to hide her smirk. Monique had done her job well.
‘No, definitely bright colours. I know that for a fact.’ He lifted his head a little, defying anyone to argue with him.
Bea grinned at Daisy. ‘Exceptional,’ she said. ‘Well done, Lawrence.’
Daisy’s heart plummeted. How could Bea just accept what he said? She knew Daisy better than that, surely? But then she looked at Lawrence’s design again. It was an exquisite piece of work. Not for her, for a million and one reasons, but she had to acknowledge the skill in the design, however misplaced. She didn’t dare even look at Kit.
Bea clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Now then, Bertie. Let’s see what you’ve come up with.’
It was all a pretence. Following Bertie’s shock announcement that he was pulling out of the competition, they had debated long and hard whether or not to tell Lawrence. Bea knew of course, she had to. Not least of all because Bertie didn’t want it to come as a surprise to her on the final day, but also, Daisy suspected, because he wanted his mother’s blessing.
Bertie put one hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long box which gave an audible rattle as he passed it to his mother.
‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘It’s very delicate.’
Bea took the box and eased off the bow. She was grinning broadly. Whether she knew what was in the box or not Daisy didn’t know, but she was doing a good job of keeping the suspense going. The paper came next, inch by inch, until, when she was almost there, she gave a little excited whoop and tore the remaining wrapping away. She held the box to her so that no one else could see and peeped inside.
‘Oh, Bertie!’ She burst out laughing. ‘I love it!’
And then she held up Bertie’s gift; a string of brightly painted pasta tubes strung together. The sort of necklace that every child learned to make at playschool.
Bertie turned to Kit, who gave him a high five.
Lawrence’s face was a mixture of so many things, Daisy almost laughed out loud herself. He looked shocked, hugely relieved, triumphant, but also incredibly irritated.
‘Would someone like to explain to me what’s going on, as you all seem to be in on Bertie’s little charade.’
Bertie put his hand over his heart. ‘Whatever do you mean, Lawrence? Is this not the most perfect gift for Daisy?’
Bea tutted. ‘Bertie, stop being so naughty. Explain to Lawrence what it is you’ve decided to do.’
He grinned. ‘Well, in a nutshell I’ve quit the competition.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And yes, L
awrence, that does now mean you have a fifty-fifty shot… The longer version of events is that I’ve done what I suspect Mum wanted all along, which is to work out what I wanted from my life and then go and do something about it. So, I’m going into business with Luka.’
Lawrence’s head was swivelling from Bertie to his mum, to Kit and back again. ‘You’re doing what?’
‘Going into business with Luka.’
‘Yes, I heard what you said, Bertie, I’m not deaf. But I thought you wanted to run Buchanans. If only to see me ousted from the top spot. Well, that is a turn-up for the books.’
‘Not everything is about you, Lawrence,’ retorted Bertie. ‘I’ve done what’s right for me.’
‘And you’re going to run a what? A bar…?’
‘If that’s what you want to call it, yes. I won’t even bother to explain. But I think we both know that Luka does rather more than run a bar.’
Lawrence made a dismissive noise. ‘Call it what you like. It still sounds like you’re going to be serving people all your life.’
Daisy couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. ‘No, Lawrence. Bertie is going to do what he excels at, which is making people feel special. I can’t think of anything more worthwhile.’
He glared at her, but she no longer cared.
‘So you all knew…?’ said Lawrence. ‘Yes, of course you did. Well, you’re out of the competition, Bertie, and that’s all that matters to me.’
‘Yes, you’ve made that quite clear,’ Bertie replied, giving Daisy a warm smile. ‘But although you may have heard what I said, Lawrence, you didn’t listen. Such a shame you haven’t worked out yet what this has all been about.’
Daisy saw the flicker of confusion cross Lawrence’s face, but she knew he would never admit to curiosity.
‘Shall I tell you? You see, when I said that I thought it’s what Mum wanted me to do all along, what I meant was more that this competition was never just about who gets to run Buchanans, but rather who had it within themselves to face up to who they really are. And stand up for what they believe in. In fact, very cunning, Mum, very cunning indeed. And getting Daisy to help… stroke of pure genius.’ He grinned. ‘I probably shouldn’t say any more, but I just wanted to add my own very personal thank you to Daisy. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would have figured out my own part to play. I just hope I’m right about everything else.’
This time it was Daisy’s turn to look confused. She knew that Bea had been smart where Lawrence was concerned, guessing quite rightly that he would try and get Monique to help him, but was what Monique had said also true: that the competition had been designed so that the brothers themselves chose the winner, and not Bea? But how could that be so?
Lawrence sighed. ‘Can we please get on? I’m happy for you, Bertie. If that’s what you want to do with your life, then that’s great. But you are now out of the competition and there are still two people here for whom the outcome matters a great deal.’
‘Three,’ said Kit.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You said two, but there are three people here for whom the outcome matters a great deal.’
Lawrence flashed Daisy a tight smile. ‘Yes, quite.’
Bea cleared her throat. ‘I’d just like to add that I am extraordinarily pleased with your decision, Bertie. This isn’t the environment for you, and so I’m very happy that you’ve come to that conclusion. However, we do need to establish a winner, and thus far Kit has been incredibly patient. I think it’s time he had his turn now.’
Kit went to retrieve his present from his coat pocket and Daisy smiled when she saw the long slender box wrapped in silver paper covered with ivy leaves. Despite their argument, she desperately wanted Kit to win and for his sake there must be no trace of doubt on her face as he walked forward.
She couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts inside Kit’s head. She knew he didn’t want Lawrence to win but, taking into account everything Daisy knew about him, why on earth did he want to run Buchanans? She was sure now that Bertie was right – that the competition was as much about facing up to who you were, and what you really wanted from life, as it was about taking over the running of the family firm. And, out of all three of the brothers, Kit seemed to have worked this out years ago. So, whichever way she looked at it, she couldn’t understand why he was even taking part.
And then a sudden thought came to her. Kit had built his own house for goodness’ sake. He had designed and built every element of it. He was an expert at crafting things. God, why had she never realised that before? His design would be nothing less than outstanding, it had to be. Her heart was in her mouth as Bea began to open the box. Oh, please dear God, let him have chosen something amazing.
Underneath the wrapping, the box was made from cardboard, with a simple flap for a lid. It was tied with a piece of raffia to keep it closed until Bea was ready and, as she pulled the bow undone, Daisy craned her head to get a better look. Eventually it was free and Bea pulled back the lid to look inside.
The box was empty.
25
Tuesday 24th December
One shopping day until Christmas
Bertie groaned. Lawrence laughed. And Daisy nearly fainted.
Kit, on the other hand, stood with an expectant look on his face as he waited for Bea to comment. She looked just as shocked as Daisy was.
‘I know you can be absent-minded, dear, but you appear to have wrapped an empty box.’
Kit smiled. ‘Yes, I know it might seem that way, but it does, in fact, contain the perfect present that you asked for.’
Lawrence let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Oh, spare us the half-baked philosophy, please.’
Kit ignored him, looking at Bea instead. She was still staring into the box as if she imagined something would suddenly appear. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain,’ she said.
‘Three weeks ago, you challenged us to choose the perfect piece of jewellery for Daisy. And to also explain why our choice was the right one. You said that in the end that was the only criteria you would use to determine who wins.’ He broke off to look enquiringly at Bea, who nodded. ‘And so we all got into a fine old panic because none of us really knew Daisy all that well, myself included. But that was simple too, you said, we should just get to know her. I think we all know what came next.’
‘Get on with it,’ muttered Lawrence. ‘For goodness’ sake…’
Bea gave him a withering glare. ‘Do go on, Kit.’
‘And so, like Lawrence, and for a little while Bertie too, I wracked my brains trying to come up with something that Daisy would like. And I learned a lot about her. I learned that she likes to walk in the moonlight. And that she takes nothing from the world that she doesn’t give back in some other form. I learned that she can tell which creatures have crossed a snowy field, and that if she stands in still places she can feel a world most people can’t even conceive of. I learned that she is loyal with an integrity I thought was lost in the world, and I learned that even though she has few things, she still has everything she wants, and this makes her happy…’ He trailed off, lifting his eyes to Daisy’s. ‘But I also learned that although she has an incredible ability to choose jewellery for other people, it’s almost impossible to choose something for her because Daisy doesn’t really like jewellery. She doesn’t ever wear any, and so the perfect present is… none at all.’
There was stunned silence for several seconds as Daisy stood, her cheeks burning, conscious that every eye was on her.
Lawrence began a slow handclap. ‘Oh, bravo, Kit. I have to hand it to you, you could follow Mother onto the stage. You could at least have had the guts to say you couldn’t come up with anything. I’ve never heard such—’
‘Shut up, Lawrence.’ Bertie had taken a step towards him. ‘For once in your life, just shut up!’
But Daisy scarcely heard him. All she could hear were Kit’s words reverberating around her head. The warmth in his voice, the look in his eyes as he spoke them. And the way
he described her, it sounded familiar somehow…
‘That took an incredible amount of courage, Kit,’ said Bea. ‘Especially when there is so much at stake.’
And Kit smiled again. ‘It’s not courageous when there is nothing at stake for me. I don’t want Buchanans, I never have. And I’m not the right person to run it. But I know someone who is.’
Lawrence looked like he was about to explode. ‘But she’s not even family!’
Daisy stared at him, trying to fathom his words. And then it hit her, just what Kit meant. Her eyes stretched wider. Had he just given up the business for her?
‘What was the point of the competition, if not to find the person most suited to run Buchanans?’ added Kit. ‘But not as it is now. Instead, how it needs to be if it’s ever going to survive. You know that, Mother, I know you do. Just as you know that Daisy is the only one who can read our customers like a book and have the integrity to sell them something that costs five pounds if that’s the right thing to do. We need to diversify and none of us have the ability to lead us through that. None of us apart from Daisy, that is.’
‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ cut in Lawrence. ‘You can’t just go changing the rules of the competition because you’ve got some sad crush on the poor girl. Daisy was never in the running for this and neither should she be. There is a clear choice, Mother – my design, which fulfils the brief perfectly, or Kit’s nonentity.’
Daisy had been staring at the floor again, trying to work out how she felt, but now her head jerked up, anger flaring at Lawrence’s words. She was about to say something when Kit laughed.
‘You can make fun of me all you want, Lawrence, because I learned a long time ago that what’s important to you is just to win, to have, whatever the cost, even if you don’t really want something. And just like I worked that out, I also realised that there are some things I care about a very great deal. So where you’re concerned, I pick my battles very carefully. So, if you’re not prepared to accept that your design is a poor one, let me give you even more proof why Daisy should be at the helm.’