I’ve spent so many hours rearranging bookshelves, and finding the best holly with berries, and studding oranges with cloves, making mistletoe balls, draping the doorways with heavy red velvet curtains and basically interrogating Google until all the web thinks I’m interested in is having a Victorian Christmas.
Even Ollie has been determined to play his part – he arrived home one evening with a Christmas tree to die for, and of course found the books which have pride of place in Uncle T’s favourite nook.
But all the hard work and frustration was worth it. The shop looks beautiful. This is an old-fashioned kind of magical Christmas without the bah-humbug, but with added candy canes.
‘I daren’t open my eyes!’ Ollie chuckles. And the lovely deep sound increases the anticipation that is bubbling up inside me, so that I almost feel like I’m going to explode if he doesn’t look soon.
‘Do it!’ I shout. ‘Open your eyes, look!’
‘Can’t! What will you do to me if I say the wrong thing?’ He’s chuckling more now.
‘You think you’re so funny!’ I punch him lightly in the ribs.
‘I remember having my thumb bent back when I thought your picture of a bird was a giraffe!’
‘You’ll remember something if you don’t open your bloody eyes. You have no idea what I am going to do to you in a moment!’
‘Does it involve stripping me, tying me up and having your wicked way?’
‘No, it involves prising your eyelids open and glueing them back!’
‘Ha!’ He grabs me tight round the waist and pulls me against his warm body, but I can tell he’s opened his eyes, because he’s rested his chin on my head and the little ‘ah’ vibrates through my body. ‘Wow, Daisy, that is breath-taking. Stunning. Not a giraffe in sight.’ He spins me round to face him, but his gaze is wandering around us as he slowly turns, taking us both in a full 360 spin. He’s smiling broadly, taking it all in, and I’m grinning back at him like a goof. We spin faster, me in his arms and I feel like my chest is going to burst with happiness. ‘It is just how he would have wanted.’ He stops turning us. Looks down at me. His gaze meeting mine. His face serious. ‘You are just how he wanted, just how I want.’
I gaze back, not sure what to say.
‘But …’ he swallows and looks nervous now. Uncomfortable. ‘We need to talk about the apartment.’
‘Do we?’ The words squeeze their way past the obstruction in my throat. Just when I thought everything was coming together, that it was going so well.
‘I think I want to sell it, now the year is up.’
‘Oh, but …’ I mustn’t cry. I must not.
That isn’t what I expected to happen at all. Not today, not now. Some of the magic ebbs away, replaced by something uncomfortable. I go to take a step back, but he holds me firm. ‘Well, if you want to. It is yours.’ I swallow. I can do this. The new, confident me can cope with this. He’s saying the year is up, we’ve satisfied the conditions of the will and it’s time to move on. Tonight is the finale. I will have my money, my deposit. ‘What about this place?’ The words come out jagged, but I can’t help it.
‘We can talk about that later, Dais.’ The heat of his hands is searing my skin. ‘I wanted to know what you thought about the apartment first. I mean, it’s been your home,’ he looks less confident now. Unsure. ‘I know it’s a bit rushed, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while.’
‘You have?’
‘About Stanley, and the distance I have to commute to the hospital. It’s not ideal is it?’
I swallow hard and can’t think of a single thing to say.
‘What do you think?’ There’s real indecision in his eyes. ‘I don’t want to force this, I mean if you don’t think …’
‘Does it matter what I think?’
‘Well yeah, of course it does! Daisy, if we’re going to get a place together then I really want it to work for both of—’
‘A place together?’ I think I just shouted very loudly. Stanley has yelped and hidden under a chair. ‘The two of us?’
‘And Stanley, with a garden for Stanley?’
‘You and me?’ I can’t quite process this. I’ve gone from a happy high, to down in the dumps, back up to a place I can’t quite understand. I’m all shaky and excited, and feel tearful, but want to laugh.
In fact, I’m overloading on emotion.
‘You don’t want to? Shit, sorry, I—’
I put my hand on his lips to stop him talking. Blink. Try to process this. ‘No, no I do, I just …’ I clutch his arms. Stare into those wonderful eyes I’ve grown to love so much. ‘I wasn’t expecting.’ I blink more rapidly, smile in what feels like a very wonky, about to cry, way.
‘It’s a huge commitment, I know. But,’ his voice is soft, gentle. But there’s a distinct edge to it, that I think Uncle T might have called passion, ‘you mean so much to me, Daisy. I love you.’
I think about all the girls he’s dated, the ones he knew weren’t right. The guys I’ve dated, when I haven’t even wanted to share a toothbrush.
But I want to do this with him.
Not for Mum, or security, or to make more sense of my life. Just because I want to.
‘So, this together, just one set of bed sheets type of together.’ Just to be sure what he’s saying here.
He smiles, relief lightening his features. ‘One bed, but hopefully more than one set of bed sheets. But maybe not too many cushions?’
‘You can never have too many cushions!’ There’s a tremble in my voice, but it’s not doubt or fear.
‘There’s something else. I think I should have said this first, but I was scared.’
‘The great Ollie Cartwright scared of something?’ I smile up at him. We’re moving in together! Properly together.
He’s fumbling about in his pockets panicking a bit. ‘Hang on.’
‘What?’
‘Shit! Oh bugger. Oh, here!’
He is clutching something. He’s got a small box in his hand. Oh shit, oh bugger, oh God my knees are about to give way.
‘Daisy.’ He’s blinking now as well. ‘Will you do more than just move with me, will you.’ He opens the box. The most beautiful diamond and sapphire ring sparkles under the lights from the tree behind me. ‘Daisy, will you marry me?’
I stare at his full lips, at his wonderful face. Straighten his tie a bit. Touch his mouth with my trembling fingertips. Then take a deep breath.
‘Ollie.’ It didn’t work. My voice is still wavery and thin. So I clear my throat. Do some more blinking, as my eyes are about to overflow. And it’s that very moment that Stanley chooses to start yapping and jumping up at me, then jumps into my arms and starts to lick my face frantically. I laugh. ‘We’d love to! Wouldn’t we Stanley?’
He laughs, with shaking hands takes the ring out of the box, and very carefully puts it on my finger. ‘Uncle Terence left it to me, to us I guess, in his will.’
‘Uncle T?’ I put Stanley down on the floor and he wanders off, as though he’s happy now his job is done. He just wanted to be involved in the decision. I run the tip of my finger over the ring, lift it up into the light.
‘He said he’d bought it for the greatest love of his life, and he’d be honoured if I gave it to mine.’
‘I’m the greatest love of your life?’
‘Without a doubt. Well,’ he pauses, ‘apart from Stanley of course. It’s a draw!’
Then before I can joke, or say anything at all, he pulls me in tight and kisses me.
Thoroughly.
So thoroughly that I am all flushed and hot, so hot I have to take my Christmas jumper off before we carry on.
‘Oh my God, Daisy, you look gorgeous.’ He groans. ‘Put it back on before I have to ravish you!’
‘I quite like the idea of that!’
He chuckles, then strokes his strong fingers up my leg, under the hem of my quite short dress, around to the front, to the tender part of my thigh. I gulp. He looks into my eyes. Totally se
rious. We stop.
He swallows hard. ‘You do look amazing. Beautiful.’
‘Really? My bum doesn’t look big in this?’ My laugh is a bit strained, but I think we need to break this up before our families gate-crash the situation!
‘Your bum has never looked big in anything. I was just always scared to say anything when you asked before, in case I went over the top and said the wrong thing.’
‘You could never say the wrong thing.’
‘Really? How about you were a lousy throw at cricket when you were ten?’
‘Cheeky.’ We’re trying, but we’re still not out of the lust danger zone.
‘You might have hit me if I’d ever said what I really thought. Cow girl!’
I hit him then, but with the back of my hand in a friendly way. Not on the head with a plastic doll in an angry and startled way. ‘Later, cowboy!’ I wink and grin, and he pulls me back into his arms.
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
His lips this time are gentle, not bruising. He teases mine apart for a moment, but this is tender love not passion. And it’s just as nice.
He rests his forehead against mine. ‘Shall we sit in your favourite corner, and have a drink before the hoards arrive?’
‘Please.’
He opens a bottle of champagne, and we sit quietly in the corner. Our fingers interlocked, and I can’t help but keep staring at the ring on my finger.
I want to laugh, and I want to cry. My heart is practically bursting with happiness, but at the same time I’m indescribably sad. I wish Uncle T was here to share this moment, I wish he was here, that he knew I’d found my passion.
He knew about Ollie and me, long before we did. He made this happen. I wish he knew that his plan had worked.
There is so much love in this ring, there was so much love and pain in his life. He was wise and he was clever, and he had romance flowing through his veins. Just as his son has.
‘He loved us, you know. Terence.’ Ollie swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. He brushes away the smallest of tears that has fallen onto my cheek.
‘I know.’ I blink away the new tears that are filling my eyes. ‘There’s one more secret, one more letter hidden in the special editions that I have to give you. He had such a big heart, he was so wonderful.’
Ollie smiles and blots away the new tears that have plopped onto my cheek. ‘You can show me tomorrow. And you’re right, he was wonderful. He loved love, and he loved to give. It was never really about this Christmas Eve party, was it? It was about keeping us together until I realised what an idiot I’d been. I love you, you know.’
‘I love you too, you know. Maybe I always have.’ I pause. ‘Or maybe not, I mean you were a git in the paddling pool, and my birthday candles …’
‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘Never!’
‘Happy?’
‘Oh yes, the happiest of happy.’ I close my eyes, rest my head on his shoulder and the smell of him is mixed with the leather and wood of the shop, with the cinnamon, cloves and holly, and it’s the most perfect smell ever. And in the background, there’s the gentle sound of the old-fashioned festive soundtrack I’d put together with Uncle T in mind.
Bing Crosby starts to sing White Christmas and I open my eyes and look at him. My fiancé. My future.
I feel like I’ve come home.
There’s a loud, very jarring hammering noise. It is Mum. Hammering on the door.
‘How come she’s so early?’ I grin at Ollie and stand up. Straighten my dress. It’s rather glamorous, but this year I decided that ‘me’ was a sexy, happy, confident woman who wasn’t afraid to kick ass, even if she was a little bit overweight and would never have all the ‘A’ level results she’d once thought she would have.
The jumper over the top was just a nod to Uncle T’s tradition and I’d always intended to strip it off. But maybe not quite so quickly.
‘Your parents are always the first!’
‘Really?’ I blink at Ollie, who I’ve just noticed is wearing a truly atrocious Christmas jumper.
‘Yep, your Mum is always competing with mine to get here first!’
‘Coo-eee, we’re here! We know you’re in there, we can see Stanley!’ Vera shouts through the letterbox and there is more rapping on the door.
We laugh, then he takes hold of my hand. ‘Ready?’
‘Hang on a sec!’ I point at his chest. ‘You just proposed to me in that!!
‘I reckoned if you said yes, we were meant to be!’ He grins. ‘Ready? Shall we get this party started?’
‘Definitely!’
We go to the door together. Stanley between us. Ollie opens it, and we both grin at our parents, all four of them hovering on the doorstep, bottles of bubbly and sprigs of mistletoe in their hands.
‘Daisy!’
‘Ollie!’
Vera and Mum both shout out at the same time and point wildly – at my finger! My God, how can they be so eagle eyed?
‘You’ve, oh! Oh, well, I don’t know what to say!’ Mum puts a hand over her mouth melodramatically and Dad grins and winks at me. Vera fans herself wildly, and her eyes are brimming over. I wonder if she’s seen this ring before.
‘Are you going to put them out of their misery, or shall I?’ Asks Ollie.
‘I will.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Guess what? This year I have got an announcement.’ I look at Ollie, suddenly feeling shy. Then he slips his hand into mine and the full magic of it all hits me. ‘We both have.’
We raise our hands and I’m pretty sure they are clapping, but I can only really see Ollie – as he leans in closer and his lips meet mine. And finally, my life is exactly how I always hoped it would be.
THE END
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Acknowledgements
Every book starts with an idea – this idea first popped its head above the parapet during a fabulous Christmas celebration with three wonderful friends: my amazing publisher Charlotte Ledger, fabulous agent Amanda Preston, and the very lovely author Jane Linfoot.
In the totally gorgeous festive setting of St Pancras Renaissance Hotel (you may have spotted it in the Harry Potter films), which had not one but TWO incredible Christmas trees on the stairs, we chatted about all those Christmas surprises, disasters and happy moments. And on the walk back to Euston station to catch my train home, this idea was born!
As books do, this one grew, changed and was mulled over for several months. And during another get together (I don’t spend all my time eating and drinking – promise!) with Charlotte, Amanda and digital marketing star Claire Fenby, ‘the secret’ started to take on a new significance. My editor-extraordinaire Emily Ruston then kicked it well and truly into shape!
So thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful team – you’re always there for me from day one of each book, right through the nail-biting, hair-tearing, sobbing-in-the-middle days, to the happy end!
Thank you also to all the other incredible people at HarperCollins, and One More Chapter, who have helped make this happen. I don’t want to name all the names, as I am scared stiff of missing somebody out, but from cover design (incredibly beautiful), to editing, and marketing that started well before this book was finished, I feel incredibly lucky to be able to work with all of you.
Thank you as always to my family, supportive friends, and lovely author buddies (Mandy Baggot you are a star!) without you cheering me on (and cheering me up) I’d never have got to ‘The End’ (Jules Wake, your wise words sent me sprinting to the finish line). And thanks to Harry, my gorgeous pup, who keeps me sane, gives me much needed cuddles and ensures I get my daily exercise – my bottom would be so much bigger if it wasn’t for you!
And last but not least, a massive thank you to you, for reading this story, and being so supportive.
Also by Zara Stoneley
St
able Mates
Country Affairs
Country Rivals
A Very Country Christmas
The Holiday Swap
Summer with the Country Village Vet
Blackberry Picking at Jasmine Cottage
The Wedding Date
No One Cancels Christmas
Bridesmaids
About the Author
Zara Stoneley is the USA Today bestselling author of The Wedding Date.
She lives in a Cheshire village with her family, a lively cockapoo called Harry, and a very bossy (and slightly evil) cat called Saffron.
Born in a small village in the UK, Zara wanted to be a female James Herriot, a spy, or an author when she grew up. After many (many) years, and many different jobs, her dream of writing a bestseller came true. She now writes about friendship, dreams, love, and happy ever afters, and hopes that her tales make you laugh a lot, cry a little, and occasionally say ‘ahhh’.
Zara’s bestselling novels include No One Cancels Christmas, The Holiday Swap, Summer with the Country Village Vet, Blackberry Picking at Jasmine Cottage, and the popular Tippermere series – Stable Mates, Country Affairs, and Country Rivals.
@ZaraStoneley
ZaraStoneley
ZaraStoneley
www.zarastoneley.com
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
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