Jenny righted their faces and Daisy had to admit, for a woman she had never associated with femininity, her mother was so skilled at hair and make-up. Perhaps Jenny had practised in secret. She certainly wasn’t just the stalwart, boiler-suit, no-nonsense mother she had imagined. Daisy now planned to spend as much time as she could with her mother, to go some way to remedying their fractured relationship.
‘Right, you two. Let’s have a quick selfie,’ Jenny said, bundling both women in towards her.
‘How do you know what a selfie is?’ Daisy asked, bemused.
‘I’m not archaic, Daisy. I may appear to have been left behind but I do have a mobile.’ She smiled. ‘Which is good because I’m on a dating app for the over-seventies.’
Daisy grinned. ‘And…?’
‘There is one man.’ Jenny flushed slightly.
‘What’s his name?’
‘The Silver Surfer 36.’
‘No, his real name.’
‘Oh, Graham.’ She smiled shyly. ‘He’s asked me to go to an art gallery and dinner in Cheltenham.’
‘Oh, that’s fabulous, Mum.’
‘It sure is.’ Lisa nodded vigorously.
‘Listen to you, Lisa, it sure is… You sound as Texan as your man.’
‘Howdy, partner,’ she joked.
‘Right, you two,’ Jenny said looking out of the window. ‘Most guests are here by the looks of it. Don’t go near the window. Remember James and Bob can’t see you.’ She rushed to the door. ‘I’ll go and see if everyone’s ready for the blushing brides.’
She hugged Daisy close and whispered in her ear, ‘Dad would have been so proud. He was proud when you married Hugh and he’d be proud now.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘As am I.’
Jenny rushed from the room and could be heard talking to someone in the entrance hall. Shortly after, the youth orchestra started up, and Daisy and Lisa made their way to the bottom of the stairs holding hands. Jenny came back in from outside, colour high in her cheeks. She was to walk them both down the aisle and she couldn’t have looked more proud or happy. As they stepped out onto the veranda there were gasps of delight and the odd low wolf-whistle. James and Bob stood at the front, their backs to the women even though it was obvious from their body language how much they wanted to turn around. Jenny linked arms with both women and giving them both an encouraging smile, walked slowly but assuredly down the aisle.
Daisy smiled at relations she hadn’t seen in years, at friends, fellow villagers. The sun had come out to play and light glinted magically off the still, ever so slightly dewy grass. As they neared the men both started to turn. Bob’s face lit up with a huge grin. Barbara’s dog basket sat by his feet and it had been jazzed up with glitter and pom-poms, which Barbara had already mauled and spat out.
The twins had been placed in their double buggy at the front by James – and it had had a similar glitter treatment to Barbara’s basket – and as Daisy approached, she bent down to kiss their chubby cheeks, before looking properly at James. She smiled. He looked dashing in his dark grey suit, tailored in London, and as he gazed at her through his soft eyes, he mouthed, ‘You look beautiful.’ His face glowed with pure happiness.
The village reverend stood in front of them and as people sat and took up their places, he began.
‘I welcome you all to this the most special of weddings and most special of days. Today we are conducting two of everything which,’ he said, smiling at the twins, ‘seems most appropriate.’
The reverend led them through the ceremony and within minutes Lisa was married to Bob and hugging him ecstatically. The reverend turned to Daisy. ‘And I believe Daisy has something she would like to read to us?’
She nodded and turned towards the congregation. Suddenly she wondered if this was such a good idea. James had given her the letter. A final letter – a final letter from Hugh.
‘Many of you knew Hugh and whilst he, more than anybody else, would hate for this to turn into a sad occasion, I wanted to share his letter with you because it made me realise that there are many versions of love. Hugh knew that, he even recognised and encouraged the love that James and I have for one another. In his dying days, he didn’t wish me to be alone or to never find love again. No.’ She shook her head, the tears she feared springing to her eyes. ‘Quite the opposite, he wanted this day to happen.’ She smiled softly at James. ‘In fact, you will like his letter because I think it shows what a selfless human being Hugh was.’
She cleared her throat, glanced briefly at the twins as if to check they were listening to their father’s words. Their tiny hands and feet were flailing as they sat in the pushchair, their big round blue eyes on her.
‘OK, here we go.’ She took a deep breath and began.
Dearest Daisy,
I asked James to give you this letter on your wedding day. I know you’ll read this and think, “what a pompous ass to think that he knew I was going to marry James.” But please don’t think that. As I have said before, your love for one another has always been apparent. I never doubted your love for me but when I became ill and I knew that I didn’t have long, I wanted to know you were going to be OK. I knew that James would look out for you.
A tear made its way down her cheek but she ignored it.
James has always been my best friend and I know what a decent, genuine man he is and you, my darling, deserve that. You deserve happiness and love and to not be plagued by the boring old fart anymore.
She laughed despite herself and a ripple of laughter worked its way through the seated guests.
If you have children with James, wonderful. If you have children with me, also wonderful. I am looking down on you today and I’m so proud of you both. Keep me in your hearts as I keep you in mine.
All my love, Hugh.
Daisy could barely speak by the end but she managed to finish. She looked up and blew a kiss into the sky.
When she looked back at the guests she noticed so many women but men too were crying and smiling all at once. Daisy smiled at them. She knew what they were feeling because it was, without a doubt, the most joyously sad she had ever felt. James took her hand and as the ceremony continued, she felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt for such a long time.
When James was asked to kiss the bride, Tom hollered out, ‘Get a room!’ and the Dream Team laughed, one of them shouting, ‘They can’t, they’re all booked up!’
Daisy laughed as James kissed her deeply once more. As they were pronounced man and wife, Lisa and Bob came over and they had a group hug. Then Daisy walked over to the twins and undid their harnesses, plucking them easily out of the pushchair and popping one on each of her hips. The photographer asked for James to come into shot and he clicked away. Daisy knew that if she could have sent that photo to Hugh, he would have been delighted. The twins, as they scrunched their faces up against the May sunshine, looked suddenly so like their father, it took Daisy’s breath away.
The rest of the day was spent drinking champagne and dancing to the live band. It was only when her feet really started to hurt that Daisy headed inside the house, removing her shoes as she went, grateful for the coolness of the flagstone floor on her tired, hot feet.
She walked quickly and quietly up to Hugh’s study, grateful for a moment to herself to think. Daisy sat in the bay window and watched the comings and goings outside. She could see Tom and Alvin jiving – or their version of the jive, which didn’t look totally unlike an amateur version of Riverdance – and then there was Lisa and Bob (and Barbara) giggling with one another under the large oak tree. Her mother had decided to phone Silver Surfer 36 and see if he wanted to come over for a drink and a shindig. When Graham had turned up in a beautifully cut suit and slicked back silver hair, she was sure her no-nonsense mother had gone as shy as she might have done around a rock star. They were now getting on famously well. Even Alistair was here, with Clare of course, and she was glad to see him looking so happy. He had told her on the phone that he’d taken Clare back to Edinburgh to re
-meet his parents. Clare was a brave woman, Daisy had thought, but it turned out that with the years his parents had mellowed and were now very much involved in the wedding plans for next January.
Daisy had even invited Annabelle. Yes, she had had many a sleepless night in which she wondered if James would refuse to marry her and go running off into the sunset with Annabelle on his arm, but she knew she had to let go of that. James had proven his commitment to her and, amazingly, it turned out Annabelle was an expert at wedding planning. She had somewhat relished the role of wedding planner, because as she had said, ‘If I’m thinking about the colour of your meringue and if you might like a cheese board, well, that means I’m not then thinking about my husband shagging the ex-nanny or whichever poor woman he’s got his mitts on.’ Annabelle had smiled wickedly. ‘I can assure you, dear Daisy, I will not only divorce that man but I will take him to the cleaners.’
And she had done just that which was why the pale pink dress she wore today screamed money and she had insisted on buying only the top champagne for her friend Daisy on her special day.
Daisy looked up at the ceiling. ‘Hello darling, can you see them all? They’re so happy, aren’t they? As am I.’ She nodded. ‘I probably won’t talk to you as much as I did but only because I have to concentrate on the twins and James now. But remember if I’m not talking to you, I’m thinking about you.’ She glanced outside at her beautiful twin boys as Grandma Jenny swished them one at a time up into the air and back down causing a fit of gorgeous baby giggles. ‘You’d be so proud of them, Hugh. They’re just like you. They’re perfect.’
She got up and ran her hand over the smooth green leather on his desk. ‘Goodbye my love, I’ll be back soon. Thanks to you I have a family, someone who loves me and a guesthouse.’ She smiled. ‘You may, at times, have been a boring old fart but let me tell you something; you were my boring old fart and, it turns out. a bloody lovely and insightful one at that.’
She walked to the study door and as she left the room, James met her on the landing.
‘You okay?’ he said gently, his eyes filled with concern. ‘You’re not unhappy, are you?’
‘No,’ she said with such certainty. ‘I am the happiest woman alive.’ She smiled. ‘This isn’t just a guesthouse, it’s a family.’
James brought her into him and kissed her deeply and passionately as Daisy tried to capture the moment in her mind forever.
Acknowledgements
This book has been on quite a journey with me over the past year or so. There are many people I’d like to thank who not only contributed to the book but also gave me strength and encouragement when I needed it most.
Firstly, my editor Charlotte Mursell, who is truly amazing.
Everyone at HQ, who continue to do a brilliant job – thank you.
To Sinead, for her incredibly generous winning bid at the Authors for Grenfell Tower auction. Her sister Lisa McDermott provided the wonderful character name. Happy fortieth, Lisa.
All the gorgeous crowd at The Cutting Shed and, in particular, Russell, Jane and Kate.
To my scrummy Clifton friends – love you Em and Ros.
To Lory, for her generous spirit and for making nursery drop-off ridiculously fun.
To every single person who has helped me achieve a new life, you are all fab. Too many to mention! However, a special shout out to Maria, Toni, Nat, Abbie and Colin.
To Sophie, you are the secret, thank you.
To my cousins, Katie and Lucy: you are the best.
My goddaughter Isabelle.
As always, my parents, who have been incredible. They have helped me move from pastures old to pastures new in the most loving and beautiful way.
My brother Ed and his wife, Nik, who are now living on the other side of the world. Miss you both.
To my gorgeous son Finn – you are the best T-Rex ever. Love you to the moon and back.
Willow, you are beautiful. Welcome.
And finally, a major part of the Dream Team: TJ. Thank you. Your friendship is extraordinary.
Turn the page for an exclusive extract from A Little Cottage in the Country, another charming romantic comedy from Lottie Phillips…
Two Weeks Earlier…
Anna took a deep, cleansing breath as she knocked. The name on the door read ‘Barry Smith, Editor-in-Chief’. The faint trace of Tipp-Ex, where Sheryl had crossed out Smith and written White at last year’s Christmas party, still remained.
‘Come in,’ boomed the voice.
Anna opened the door, gripping the handle tightly as she tried to control her nerves.
Barry looked up briefly from his computer, a sheen of sweat glistening across his bulbous, bald head. ‘This had better be good, Compton. I’m trying to make a meal out of the crap you lot give me, and you know what? I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I don’t know why I put up with it. I could fire the lot of you and start again.’ He pinched the top of his nose and rubbed his eyes using his free hand, his spectacles jiggling up and down. ‘Come in, Compton. Sit, for God’s sake.’
Anna moved forward, closed the door behind her and smoothed her skirt. As she did, she caught sight of the remnants of her son’s porridge near her behind. She grew hot under the collar and then realised she must also have got caught downwind of her daughter’s milk tsunami. The smell of gone-off cheese started to permeate her nostrils and she tried to remained focused.
‘Barry,’ Anna started, taking a seat as requested, ‘I’m leaving The Post.’
She had been hoping he might show even a vague sense of regret but, instead, he grinned.
‘Leaving?’
Anna cleared her throat. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Going anywhere good?’
Anna clenched and unclenched her fists, kneading her skirt. ‘Barry, I just said I’m leaving.’
Barry let out a bark of a laugh. ‘What do you want me to do? Cry?’
‘No,’ Anna started. ‘Oh, do you know what, you can stuff your job. I was going to ask for a reference, but frankly…’ As Anna spoke, her head was buzzing with regret (she needed a reference, she had children, she was going to the great unknown). ‘I don’t need a sodding reference from you. I mean, who’ll have heard of the The Post in Trumpsey Blazey?’
Barry chuckled. ‘Ah, so you’re making a break for the countryside, old gal.’ He paused. ‘I presume you’ve got a job, or have you…?’ He grinned. ‘No, Anna Compton cannot have found a new man – a millionaire?!’
Anna stood. ‘I don’t need to take this rubbish from you. I’ve found a beautiful home, the children are going to a wonderfully rated primary school and I…’ She stammered. ‘Will find another job with a reputable country paper.’
‘You mean the Hare and Hound Gazette?’ He laughed, his belly shaking unpleasantly as he did so. ‘I know Tim, the big man behind that little number, and you won’t get work with him.’
Anna stuck out her chin. ‘Why ever not?’ She bristled with anger.
‘He only employs men.’ Barry looked back at his screen, then said seriously and with no sense of irony, ‘He’s quite the chauvinist.’ Barry returned his gaze to Anna and then to his screen, then back to Anna. Anna grew immediately worried. She could almost see his brain steaming and puffing with the energy of an idea.
‘Well, I’ll be off,’ Anna said, turning on her heel before she got involved in whatever strange idea he was concocting. ‘Good luck with the paper.’
As she pulled the door open, Barry spoke again. ‘Compton, I’ve just had an idea.’
She turned slowly.
‘You know what this paper needs? It needs fresh air, it needs something different, something fun, something rural, something idyllic.’ He stood now, his podgy hands flying through the air. ‘It needs to see a woman making the most of Blighty!’
‘Barry?’ Anna almost didn’t dare ask.
‘You clearly don’t have a job, and you have children to think about, Anna.’ He smiled, as though he really was the saviour. �
��I’m offering you the chance to write a weekly column for the paper.’ He drew his hand across the air in front of him. “Anna’s Little Cottage in the Country”, that’s what we’ll call it!’ He moved inelegantly from around the desk and shuffled his excess weight towards Anna, who grimaced at the sight of her (ex) boss moving in on her, like a puffer fish. ‘What do you say, Compton? Give us the lowdown on what it’s like in the Wild West of Wiltshire?’
‘Um, that’s very, um…’ she started, her mind whirring. ‘Well, Barry, the thing is…’
‘You need money? You want to keep your foot in the door as a successful journalist?’
‘Successful journalist?’ She reeled under the weight of such a compliment; one he had never, ever come close to giving before.
‘Well, a…. you know… an OK one,’ he clarified. Then, wagging his finger in front of her face, ‘But you could become a wonder. You could personally help this paper survive with your take on rural life.’
‘Really?’ She wasn’t convinced.
He looked at her intently. ‘Yes, it’ll be brilliant. Well…’ He paused. ‘You need to make it brilliant. Join in, make friends, get a loooovverrr…’ He purred this last word in such a way, Anna had to turn away from the sudden gust of stale coffee emanating from his mouth.
‘Barry, the thing is, I want a fresh start.’ She was resolute.
‘Yes, but the thing is, Compton, you can have a fresh start, but you have to think of your children. You need money.’
She turned towards the door again, took one step out.
‘When do you leave?’
‘Two weeks,’ she said, her back to him.
‘Excellent! Give me something juicy in two and a half.’ He grinned. ‘Actually, I might talk to Diane, see if she can’t take some shots.’ His mind was whirring and his upper lip glistened as he smacked his lips together. ‘People will love to follow your story… I can see it now. City girl living the dream.’
With that, he started to close the door and she shuffled forward before he could catch her ankles with it.
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