Have a fantastic time,
Love Daisy x
She could do this. She would do this. Idyllic, a country cottage, snow, animals, a proper Christmas like they used to have, before she grew up and life went a bit screwy.
In Cheshire she wouldn’t have to see Oli again, well at least not until after Christmas. And she could get to have a real English Christmas, like the ones they used to have. Turkey, crackers, snow. A horse, a dog. No Oli. She had to keep saying that bit, no Oli was important. No typing up magazine articles where every single word make her think of Oli. No having photos taken where she looked grumpy and old.
Oli, taking a break.
Sorry but you’ll have to finish the winter edition yourself, with Sarah.
No. She wasn’t sorry. She deleted that. And adding ‘with Sarah’ suggested she cared. That had to go too. Wow, this was the most severe edit ever.
Love Flo x. She had to delete the ‘love’, and the kisses. Try again.
Oli. I have decided to take two weeks’ holiday. I will be back next year. Flo. (She deleted ‘stuff your deadline’ – that looked unprofessional and immature.)
Hi Daisy,
I’m so excited, it will be fantastic to see Tippermere again! I wonder if it will be just how I remember it? They’re just calling my gate now.
Will message you when I get there.
Can’t wait to meet Barney and Mabel!
Love Flo x
PART 2
Chapter 10 – Flo. Tippermere, Cheshire
‘Oh. My. God. It is gorgeous.’ Flo stared out of the taxi window and wished she’d got a Barbour jacket and wellingtons on, instead of leather jacket and heels. Why on earth hadn’t Daisy and Anna told her? The glass misted up and she realised she’d literally got her nose pressed against it. She wiped it with her sleeve and shot a guilty look at the driver, hoping he hadn’t noticed. ‘This is the right place?’
The taxi driver, who had talked non-stop all the way from the station, stared at her, his jaw loose, shocked that anybody would dare to think he’d go to the wrong address. The silence dragged on uncomfortably. She could apologise, before he whisked her back to the station.
He cleared his throat, noisily, offended. ‘Little Daisy’s place you said, didn’t you?’
Well she hadn’t, actually. She’d said Mere End Cottage, which was what Daisy had told her, then texted to be doubly sure (Daisy’s practical side being in full flow once Anna had left Barcelona). Mere End Cottage, Tippermere. You can get a taxi from Manchester Airport, but it’s a bit pricey. I normally get the train from there and then get a lift from the railway station or walk.
Flo had actually been quite excited about the ‘Mere’ bit, until Anna had told her that there was no water for miles, well no actual mere but lots of puddles this time of year.
‘Well, yes.’ Phew. ‘Daisy Fischer.’ Just in case there was more than one Daisy. I mean, she’d said cottage. Cute, cosy… tiny was what Flo had imagined. This was more English Country Home. She’d had absolutely no idea that grooming dogs was this lucrative.
‘Aye, there’s only one Daisy. Staying long are you?’ He peered up the path. ‘Doesn’t look like she’s in. There’s no smoke coming from the chimney and no sign of Jimmy. I’m sure she told my missus she was away for a few days. Not like her mind, she’s a real home bird is little Daisy.’
‘I’m house-sitting.’ It was easier than giving the full explanation. ‘While she’s away.’
‘That’s right, is it? Well if you’re here a while you might find you need a thicker coat, love, turned a bit parky.’
‘Parky?’
‘There’s snow forecast.’
‘Snow? Really? Wow.’ The place really was totally amazing. It would be the perfect retreat, the perfect holiday escape. She’d build a blazing fire, make a mug of hot chocolate and surrender to being completely snowbound until Christmas was over, along with her stupid infatuation with Oli. Then she could dig herself out (well the weather would have turned to drizzle by then) and make her way back to Barcelona and real life.
The taxi driver raised an eyebrow, gave her a strange look, then heaved himself out of the cab. ‘It won’t be so wow if it ices over like it did a couple of years ago,’ he was back to his previous chatty self, ‘like driving on a flamin’ ice rink, and nobody wants to go anywhere anyway in that weather.’
‘Which is good?’
‘Good? Some of us need to earn a living, love.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Nothing like a down-to-earth Englishman to pop your bubble.
‘Not from round here then?’ He peered at her more closely.
‘I used to live here, but I live in Spain now.’
‘Tax exile, eh?’ He chuckled at his own joke. ‘That’ll be eight pounds, seeing as you’re a friend of Daisy’s, though maybe I should double it?’ He winked, then opened the car boot, and when she didn’t immediately react he took her suitcase out, put it by the gate and pointedly opened her own car door. Then coughed loudly.
She dragged her gaze away from the house and looked at him again. It couldn’t really be Daisy’s place, could it?
He held a hand out.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Flo fumbled in her purse, checking she wasn’t giving him euros, which was quite hard when she was finding it impossible to keep her eyes off the house.
‘Good luck, love.’
She’d obviously outstayed her welcome in his cab, not that she’d noticed any other potential customers on the drive over from the practically deserted station, along the narrow, winding lanes, to here. When Daisy had said she lived on the outskirts of the village she hadn’t been exaggerating, Flo hadn’t recognised a single landmark and wasn’t quite sure how far she was from the village shop, and her old home.
‘Good luck?’ Snapped out of her daydream by the second mention of luck in the matter of half an hour she clambered out of the car and stared at him. The man at the railway station, who had helpfully called the taxi when she’d asked for directions, had said much the same – accompanied by a cheeky grin and a wink.
‘You’ll be fine, love. Not here that long, are you?’
Flo frowned. It was a pretty strange thing to say to a house-sitter, and if she hadn’t felt in a bit of a daze she would have jumped in front of the cab and refused to let him go until she’d got an answer. Except she was in a bit of a confused state. And he was back in the driver’s seat and speeding off, leaving a plume of exhaust fumes behind him, before she had chance to say another thing.
At which point in the conversation with Daisy and Anna had she missed the bit where they said she lived in a mansion? She wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected, but from the name surely something cute and cosy, with a rambling roses round the door (well maybe not in winter), and a wibbly-wobbly windy cobbled path, smoke coming from the chimney. That kind of thing. Not this.
Daisy had mentioned a dog, and a pony, and how to make the fire (she’d even drawn a diagram), and what to do with the Aga – so she’d got a picture very firmly fixed in her head. Which apparently was wrong. But there would be a cute pony round the back that she could feed carrots to, and a cuddly dog stretched out in front of the fire.
Dragging her case behind her, Flo made her way up the large pothole and puddle infested driveway and was glad she’d thought to buy some wellingtons. Mud wasn’t really on the agenda in Barcelona, and, to be honest, she had rather hoped she’d arrived mid snow-drift, but wet was fine. She rested her hand on the rather higgledy-piggledy gate and it creaked alarmingly. But it didn’t matter, because what lay beyond was worth any amount of puddle-hopping.
It was massive and it was amazing. Wow was the word that kept jumping into her head and sneaking out of her mouth, so it was a bloody good job they were miles from civilisation and nobody could hear her. She had a quick glance round to see there were no passing sheep, then did a little skip and hop. Before straightening up, pulling her jacket back down and reaching for the door latch.
She’d actually
thought it a bit weird when Daisy had said the door would be unlocked, and the key hung up on the nail just inside. But that was before she realised that ‘on the edge of Tippermere’ could be translated as ‘in the middle of nowhere’, which was how it felt when she was sitting in the taxi. Even the farm that Daisy had grown up on hadn’t been quite this remote.
She counted to ten, holding her breath, because she wanted the full impact of this – because it was just bound to be mind-blowing. Then she flung the door back.
‘Who the hell are you?’
The door hit something and bounced back, just as she felt warm breath on the back of her neck and the kind of upper-class lazy drawl in her ear that she’d always thought was only ever heard on the TV.
Flo swung round, slipped on the moss-covered stone step (and would have ended up on her bum if the owner of the voice hadn’t grabbed her elbow), and her outsized tote bag hit him right in the midriff.
The ‘oomph’ exploded from him as he doubled over and let go of her. So he could clutch his stomach. For a second she teetered, then her feet went out from under her and she landed on her suitcase.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Flo recovered the use of her vocal chords before he did, mainly because she’d managed to punch him in the gut and wind him, and she’d just been left looking silly.
He straightened slightly, just enough so that his face was on a level with hers, and she really wished he hadn’t. The grey eyes that looked straight back into hers – down a slightly large, very slightly crooked, nose – were creased with humour. At her. He swept back his blond fringe with one long-fingered, elegant hand and she could have sworn his shoulders were shaking.
‘I think I’m more entitled to ask that question, seeing as you’re trying to break into my house.’
His house? Oh Christ, this wasn’t Jimmy was it? She didn’t think he actually lived with Daisy, and she didn’t remember him as being this dishy. Or posh. Although she couldn’t remember him that well at all, just the dimples and dirty boots. The only question now was why hadn’t Daisy grabbed him and raced him up the aisle? He was gorgeous. Not that she should be noticing things like that. Or thinking of him as dishy. She was going red, she knew she was, her face was practically burning up. ‘I’m not breaking in! I’m staying here. I’m Flo, a,’ she paused, ‘friend of Daisy’s and I’m staying here.’ Shouldn’t he know this? Wasn’t he supposed to be chopping logs for her?
‘No, you’re not.’
‘I am.’ She did know who she was, even if this conversation was getting a bit surreal and confusing.
He offered her a hand, which she ignored. One didn’t accept help from people who were laughing at you. Even if they were incredibly good-looking – well, that was even more of a reason to avoid contact, because she really should not be having thoughts like that.
At least he wasn’t some random mad rapist, which would have been a lot more worrying considering she hadn’t seen another soul on the journey from the station. Well, apart from somebody on a horse, and they were miles away.
Oh God, what was she doing here? She could be sitting in a sunny spot in Barcelona, wrapped up in her scarf and jacket sipping a cortado as she did some serious people- watching. Instead she was freezing cold, she had a damp bum and the only person for miles around thought she was an idiot.
‘I bloody am staying here. She said she’d told you. Ask her.’ She knew Daisy had thought Jimmy might not be too happy about the swap, but this was ridiculous. He was in denial.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I think you’ll find you’re staying down there.’ Grinning in a self-satisfied, smirking way, he pointed to the far end of the building. To what looked more like an architect’s after-thought. Or actually a cow shed. Okay, a posh stone-built home for cows as opposed to a shed.
‘There?’
‘Yep, the last door at the end. Servants’ quarters.’ His grin widened, and the cutest, deepest of dimples made him look boyish, and rakish, in an upper-class, slightly arrogant way. Oh God, not that she should be finding Daisy’s boyfriend cute or boyish. That was wrong, so wrong. ‘This is Mere End Farm,’ he pointed to the name plaque at the side of the door. Did she detect a hint of sarcasm? Okay maybe ‘boyishly attractive’ didn’t mean he wasn’t a jerk. ‘Daisy lives in Mere End Cottage.’
Ahh, the cottage name made sense now, and the fact that it didn’t look at all like a cottage. ‘And you?’
‘I live here.’ Which seemed pretty weird, even for Daisy. He side-stepped her and pulled the door shut again, before she’d even got a chance to see if it was as awesome in as out.
He paused and surveyed her a bit more closely, which made her feel all squirmy inside, and hot and bothered on the outside. His lazy gaze was travelling over every inch of her body, his full lips parted in a way… stop it, she really had to stop it. And actually he should stop it too. He was practically married. To her friend. ‘Hmm, you must be the one Jimmy said is in charge of Mabel.’
Ah, so this wasn’t Jimmy, which was a bit of a relief, in fact so much of a relief she made a silly giggle sound. So who the hell was he? How come nobody had told her she had a man who looked like that living next door? Just skipped their minds? Crumbs, if she’d have been Daisy she’d never leave home.
He was still smiling at her, and she was going beetroot-red, she was burning up despite the nip in the air.
‘Good luck.’ The mocking salute made her stomach sink, and brought her back some sense of normality. What was it about all this wishing good luck?
‘Hey, who—’ He wasn’t listening, he span round, and the sight of his very trim hips and toned bum encased in tight breeches distracted her.
With a sigh Flo clambered to her feet and dusted herself down. Not that she could get rid of the damp patch on the seat of her jeans, which had probably, no definitely, seeped through to her knickers.
Okay, no name, shut door. So much for love thy neighbour and friendly, welcoming country folk. In fact he might be the sexiest looking man she’d seen in a long time, with the type of voice she’d be happy to fall asleep listening to, but looks were not everything, were they? Definitely not. I mean look at Oli, she’d been attracted to him and look what had happened there.
He was rude, in fact very rude, and he’d been laughing at her. He was probably very unpleasant, which was why Daisy hadn’t mentioned him. And it wasn’t her fault – if everybody locked their bloody doors then she wouldn’t have made the mistake, would she?
The door to Daisy’s cottage was more like the door to a hobbit hole than a mansion. Well, it seemed that way after knocking on Farmer Grump’s by mistake.
It could have done with a lick of paint though, and the paving slab that served as a step was a bit dodgy, but it just had to be cosy inside. Far better than the big and draughty place adjoining. And she really did need to get out of her damp knickers, and toast her feet in front of the Aga. She reached a hand out to the door latch. And a glass of wine would be…
Flo completely forgot all about wine as the gently swinging door suddenly flung wide open on its own and a wolf launched itself through the gap, knocking her flying for the second time since arriving in the boring, but tranquil (Daisy and Anna’s words, not hers) village of Tippermere.
‘Christ almi—’
The ginormous shaggy grey animal had its paws on her shoulders (which was why she’d toppled over – because ginormous really was the only word), slobbery whiskers only inches from her nose and it seemed intent on French-kissing her or eating her, she wasn’t sure. There was a loud laugh and she gazed up from her position flat on her back, straight at her neighbour’s crotch, which was encased as snugly as his arse. Averting her gaze left her looking into two big chocolatey-brown doggie eyes, topped with waggly eyebrows. Which was probably more polite. And it didn’t seem to be about to eat her, even if it was peering down short-sightedly so that she risked a mouth of dribble if she didn’t keep her lips pressed together. And it had bad breath. Seriously bad.
�
��I see you’ve met Mabel.’
‘This is Mabel?’ She was having trouble breathing as it had moved one big paw from her shoulder to the centre of her chest. Good that it had shifted back a bit, bad that she was about to die. ‘It’s more like a wolf.’
It was him again. Her neighbour. She never normally fell over, she never normally looked a complete twit. And she’d done it twice, in front of the same man. Within the space of a few seconds.
He leaned forward, slightly over her, so that this time, when she glanced up, it was to see his face.
‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘I had.’ He chuckled, a reverberation that sent a shiver down her backbone. Or that could have just been the result of being pressed against damp cold earth by a mammoth dog. ‘Then I thought I’d come back and see what happened when you opened the door.’
‘Hilarious. So pleased I’m providing some entertainment, you must be short of it round here.’
‘You must be joking. With dangerous Daisy and her menagerie around there’s never a dull moment.’
‘You’re quite rude, aren’t you?’ Why on earth hadn’t Anna or Daisy mentioned this arrogant sex god? Well, from down here, gazing up at his crotch, he looked like he packed a fair punch, to put it politely. Not that she should be looking, if she was being polite. But he was more or less straddling her head (his choice not hers), and Mabel-the-massive was the view if she looked the other way. ‘Are you going to help, or just laugh?’
‘Last time I offered you ignored me.’ He helped anyway, stepping to one side, he grabbed the beast’s collar and hauled it off her in a very masterly manner. Then offered a hand again. This time it would have been churlish to ignore it.
‘I can’t believe that is Mabel. Daisy just said big.’
She forgot to let go of the hand as she stared at the hairy monster, which was wagging a tail that could take your feet out from under you if you got in its path. The monster shook its huge body and tried to break free, but her rescuer hung on effortlessly.
The Holiday Swap Page 9