Snowflakes at Lavender Bay

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘Hello, Libby-girl. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’

  ‘Dad? What are you doing here? I thought you were planning on staying with Aunty Val until after Christmas.’ He looked leaner than when she’d seen him last, and not just from the deep tan toning his skin to a golden brown. The softening line of his jaw from the beginnings of a double-chin had smoothed out, and the thick jumper didn’t cling quite so much around the middle.

  Looking shame-faced and thoroughly miserable, Mick Stone shook his head. ‘I couldn’t stand it there another minute more. I tried, lovey, Lord knows I tried, but I hated every minute of it.’

  ‘What? But I thought Spain was what you wanted?’

  He sighed and shook his head again. ‘So did I, but it turns out being away from the places that remind me of your mum was worse than being close to them. And, apart from all that, I missed my girl so hard it nearly broke my heart. Can you forgive me for making such a hash of everything?’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ Libby flung herself into his arms, clinging like a limpet to the familiar rock of his sturdy frame. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she managed to laugh through her tears. ‘Why didn’t you come home straight away, if you hated it so much?’

  The tips of his ears turned pink. ‘After making such a bloody song and dance about it, it didn’t seem right to come slinking home with my tail between my legs.’ He sighed. ‘Blame the stubborn, foolish pride of a silly old man.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you came back. Hopefully, we can put all this nonsense behind us for now, as long as you stop trying to force me to leave here, that is.’

  Mick’s brow creased into a deep frown. ‘It won’t be me forcing you from here, lovey, but it might be beyond my powers to let you stay.’ He bit his lip and she could tell he was wondering how to tell her the truth.

  ‘It’s all right, Dad. I know about your deal with Owen.’

  ‘You do? Well that’s a relief, I must say, as I was dreading how I was going to tell you.’ With gentle fingers he tipped up her chin. ‘Oh, dear. It’s not all right, is it?’

  She closed her eyes against the sting of yet more tears. ‘Not even close. You’re not the only one in this family to let their stubborn pride get in the way.’ Moisture spilled over her closed lashes and down her cheeks.

  ‘Come here, lovey,’ her dad said, pulling her tight against him once more. ‘Come on now, we’ll sort it all out somehow, I promise.’

  Clinging to him, Libby prayed it would be true.

  Chapter 27

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Owen yelled towards the sitting room as he reached the bottom of the stairs just as the front doorbell rang. Balancing the small stack of presents he’d just been up to retrieve in one arm, he tugged open the front door with the other. ‘You’re just in time,’ he said, expecting it to be Beth, Sam and his folks come to join the gift unwrapping.

  ‘Hello, Owen, Merry Christmas.’ Looking like a candy cane in a red and white striped tunic-dress over bright green leggings tucked into a pair of scruffy-looking Ugg boots, the love of his absolute life gave him a sweet smile.

  His heart turned over, and he might not have kept hold of the presents under his arm had Mick not reached past his daughter to steady them with a beefy hand. ‘All right, son? Do you need a hand with those?’

  ‘No, no, I’ve got them. When did you get back, Mick?’

  ‘A few days ago. Got sick of paella and sunshine, but I wasn’t expecting this to be waiting for me.’ He gestured over his shoulder at the white fields beyond. It had been snowing on and off for the past forty-eight hours, sending Noah into paroxysms of joy over his first white Christmas.

  ‘That wasn’t all you weren’t expecting, was it, Dad?’ Libby said with a chuckle as she laid a tender hand on the roundness beneath her dress.

  ‘Indeed.’ Mick shot Owen a gimlet stare which told him there was much more to be said on the subject at a later time.

  ‘Well, you’d better come in, then.’ He stepped back to let them in, and they’d just crossed the threshold when a car horn announced the arrival of the Barnes family together with Beth. Soon the hallway was a roiling chaos of hugs and kisses as Jack, Eliza and Sally came out to greet everyone.

  Noah bounced from group to group, peering inside carrier bags, excitement growing to fever pitch as he received assurance after assurance that yes, there were presents for him, too. Making his escape, Owen headed for the sitting room to deposit his own stack beneath the already impressive pile beneath the tree.

  Everyone filed in, the older members of the group finding seats on the sofa and chairs whilst the rest of them made do with any old space they could find on the floor. Sam and Jack positioned themselves beneath the tree and began to pass out gifts.

  To no one’s surprise, and everyone’s delight, the majority of the presents were for Noah. Owen hadn’t been the only one conscious of it being the boy’s first Christmas without his dad and had gone out of their way to find him things to keep his mind on happier thoughts. The pile of discarded wrapping paper grew and grew until Eliza excused herself to return with a black rubbish bag.

  Pleased with his own little stack of toiletries, a new laptop bag from Sam and Beth who’d noted the fraying strap on his old one, and—Hallelujah!—socks, Owen gave Eliza a smile as he shoved the wrapping paper from them into the bag as she held it out to him.

  ‘Not a bad haul,’ she said. ‘And thank you for the ribbons, I’ll be able to put them to good use.’ Uncertain what to get for her, he’d found a craft shop in town and purchased a selection of wide metallic ribbons in various shades of purple.

  ‘I thought they’d be handy for decorating your little bags of lavender, and whatnot.’

  ‘They’re perfect,’ she assured him, before moving on.

  As she stepped to one side, his eyes caught a flash of red and white as Libby turned to laugh at something her dad had said. She was curled up at his feet, her knees tucked beneath her chin, the dress stretched over them and almost down to her ankles. He flicked his gaze to the pile of presents beside her. There were no gifts from him, as there were no gifts from her in the stack next to his knee. He hadn’t known to expect her, had assumed she was coming only for lunch as previously agreed so he’d left the things he’d bought for her upstairs. She’d known he would be here, though, so what did it mean that she’d missed him out? He rubbed at the sudden pain over his heart. Nothing good, he warranted.

  ‘How about coffee and mince pies?’ Sally announced as she stood.

  ‘What a good idea, I’ll lend you a hand.’ Annie jumped up next. ‘Come on, Paul.’

  ‘All right, love, I’m coming.’ Her husband heaved himself to his feet. ‘Pops, you want to stretch your legs for a bit?’

  ‘That’s a good idea, son. This cold weather does my joints no good at all.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand, Pops.’ Sam was on his feet in an instant. ‘Hey, Noah, why don’t you bring your helicopter outside and we can give it a test flight without risking your Nanna’s china?’

  ‘Can we, Uncle Jack?’

  ‘Don’t see why not. But put your wellies and your coat on first.’

  Before Owen’s eyes, the room emptied as one after another everyone left with seemingly plausible excuses for their departure. Soon the only people left were him and Libby. ‘Well, that was subtle,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘You arranged that?’

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘I didn’t expect them all to tumble out on top of each other, though. I’d hoped they’d space it out a bit so it didn’t look quite so obvious.’ With a ruffle of her fingers through her thick fringe, she flicked her eyes towards the tree and then back to him. ‘There’s something left.’

  Following where she’d looked, Owen spotted a large red envelope propped up beneath the lowest branches of the tree. His heart might have stopped beating for a moment or two. ‘For me?’ She nodded, and a hint of scarlet glowed on her cheeks.

  On hands and knees, he scooted across and
retrieved the envelope. With one more quick glance at Libby, he slit the flap open with a finger and pulled out a thick white card. Turning it over, he found his hands were shaking as he studied the riot of glittering teddy bears romping over the front of the Christmas card. The words Daddy’s First Christmas were inscribed across a winding ribbon held up in the bears’ paws.

  Swallowing a lump the size of a rock, he flipped the card open and started to read.

  Dear Daddy,

  I know it’s not officially our first Christmas together, but I couldn’t wait to tell you how much Mummy and I love you. We’re so excited for all the lovely plans you’ve got in store for us. I’m especially excited about seeing all the pretty fairy lights with you, and to sleep in my new bedroom knowing you and Mummy will be next door to keep me safe.

  I can’t wait to meet you, either. I just know you’ll be the best Daddy in the whole wide world.

  Love,

  K.B. x

  ‘Oh, shit,’ Owen croaked through the tears coursing down his face, before he clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘I shouldn’t swear anymore, should I?’

  Laughing through her own tears, Libby crawled over to his side. ‘You’ve got a few months yet before you have to worry about tiny ears hearing you. And I’m sure getting all those conversion works done in time will make us both swear a time or two before we’re finished.’

  He grabbed her shoulders, terrified he was dreaming, that he would wake up any second and find himself alone and staring at the ceiling as he had on far too many recent mornings. ‘Don’t say it unless you mean it, Libs. If this is some kind of joke, it’ll break my heart.’

  Twining her arms around his neck, she crawled up into his lap. ‘No joke, Owen. Not about something as important as the rest of our lives together.’

  ‘Together?’ He could hardly bring himself to breathe the word against her lips.

  ‘Forever.’ She kissed him. ‘You.’ Kiss. ‘Me.’ Kiss. ‘And K.B.’ Kiss.

  ‘Oh, and me and all,’ came Mick’s deep voice from the doorway followed by roars of laughter.

  Holding Libby firmly in place, Owen turned to look at the group of once strangers who’d first become friends and then his family beaming back. ‘There’s always a downside to everything,’ he said, to another round of hoots and hollers.

  Epilogue

  Five women stood side by side leaning on the iron railing that ran along the edge of the prom. ‘Look at the bloody state of them,’ Annie Barnes said with a shake of her head.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Sally replied from the opposite end of their little row.

  ‘We could pretend we don’t know them,’ Beth offered.

  ‘I think Jack looks rather fetching, actually.’ They all turned to stare at Eliza, making her snort with laughter. ‘Had you going there for a moment. He looks even more ridiculous than the rest of them.’

  Their eyes returned to the spectacle before them. As far as the eye could see, the sand was covered in fairies. Short ones, tall ones, fat ones, thin ones. Even Libby squinted at Pops, one in thermal long johns and a flat cap. One of the fairies, taller than most and dressed in nothing more than a pink tutu over black swimming trunks and a pair of iridescent wings strapped to his back, waved and blew her a kiss before adjusting the sparkling pink tiara perched proudly on the top of his close-cropped hair. ‘What’s to be done with them?’ she sighed.

  ‘There’s nothing to be done, love. You’re going to have to accept you’ve hitched your wagon to an absolute lunatic like the rest of us,’ was Annie’s sage advice.

  ‘So it would seem.’

  A whistle blew on the beach below drawing the chattering, shivering fairies into closer order. ‘Are you ready?’ a voice bellowed through a megaphone to a roar of cheers.

  ‘Five…four…’

  ‘Three…two…one.’ The five women joined all the other spectators lining the prom in the countdown before 200 fairies—and one barking chocolate Labrador with a tutu of his own wrapped around his middle—ran whooping and shrieking into the sea. The Lavender Bay Annual Boxing Day charity swim was well and truly underway.

  Some barely made it into the shallows before they dashed back up the beach to find their towels and warm clothes, but others, hardier—or just plain foolish—went all the way in and began to swim. Eyes fixed on a bobbing pink tiara, Libby lowered her hand to cover the little bump hidden beneath the layers of jumpers and coats Owen had bundled her into that morning. ‘That’s your Daddy, that is,’ she whispered.

  Cosy and warm inside her, a little flutter of movement responded.

  Acknowledgements

  So here we are on our final visit to Lavender Bay, and it’s an emotional one. It’s hard to express how much these wonderful characters all mean to me, and it means the world to me when people take the time to let me know how much they’ve enjoyed reading about them. From her very first appearance in Spring at Lavender Bay, Libby stole my heart and quickly became a favourite of many readers. The pressure was on when writing Snowflakes to give her a hero worthy of her huge heart, and I hope you agree that Owen fits the bill.

  To my husband. This book would literally not have been finished without you. Thank you for taking care of me during those final frantic days as I tried to pull this book together. Love you, bun x

  The other person who always goes above and beyond for me is my lovely editor, Charlotte Mursell. Your boundless enthusiasm and support are appreciated more than I can say. I’m so excited that we can continue to work together – Bluebell Castle, here we come!

  Everyone at HQ Digital who helps behind the scenes, from designing my beautiful covers to production, publicity, distribution and beyond – thank you all x

  To Rachel Burton for reading all my manic messages, random texts and muppet flails. Thanks for not blocking me! x

  And, finally, to all my wonderful readers. You make this possible, and I am living my best life because of your support. Thank you xx

  Turn the page for an exclusive extract from Sunrise at Butterfly Cove, the first novel in the enchanting Butterfly Cove series…

  Prologue

  October 2014

  ‘And the winner of the 2014 Martindale Prize for Best New Artist is…’

  Daniel Fitzwilliams lounged back in his chair and took another sip from the never-emptying glass of champagne. His bow tie hung loose around his neck, and the first two buttons of his wing-collar shirt had been unfastened since just after the main course had been served. The room temperature hovered somewhere around the fifth circle of hell and he wondered how much longer he would have to endure the fake smiles and shoulder pats from strangers passing his table.

  The MC made a big performance of rustling the large silver envelope in his hand. ‘Get on with it, mate,’ Daniel muttered. His agent, Nigel, gave him a smile and gulped at the contents of his own glass. His nomination had been a huge surprise and no one expected him to win, Daniel least of all.

  ‘Well, well.’ The MC adjusted his glasses and peered at the card he’d finally wrestled free. ‘I am delighted to announce that the winner of the Martindale Prize is Fitz, for his series “Interactions”.’

  A roar of noise from the rest of his tablemates covered the choking sounds of Nigel inhaling half a glass of champagne. Daniel’s own glass slipped from his limp fingers and rolled harmlessly under the table. ‘Bugger me.’

  ‘Go on, mate. Get up there!’ His best friend, Aaron, rounded the table and tugged Daniel to his feet. ‘I told you, I bloody told you, but you wouldn’t believe me.’

  Daniel wove his way through the other tables towards the stage, accepting handshakes and kisses from all sides. Will Spector, the bookies’ favourite and the art crowd’s latest darling, raised a glass in toast and Daniel nodded to acknowledge his gracious gesture. Flashbulbs popped from all sides as he mounted the stairs to shake hands with the MC. He raised the sinuous glass trophy and blinked out at the clapping, cheering crowd of his peers.

  The great
and the good were out in force. The Martindale attracted a lot of press coverage and the red-carpet winners and losers would be paraded across the inside pages for people to gawk at over their morning cereal. His mum had always loved to see the celebrities in their posh frocks. He just wished she’d survived long enough to see her boy come good. Daniel swallowed around the lump in his throat. Fuck cancer. Dad had at least made it to Daniel’s first exhibition, before his heart failed and he’d followed his beloved Nancy to the grave.

  Daniel adjusted the microphone in front of him and waited for the cheers to subside. The biggest night of his life, and he’d never felt lonelier.

  Mia Sutherland resisted the urge to check her watch and tried to focus on the flickering television screen. The latest episode of The Watcher would normally have no trouble in holding her attention—it was her and Jamie’s new favourite show. She glanced at the empty space on the sofa beside her. Even with the filthy weather outside, he should have been home before now. Winter had hit earlier than usual, and she’d found herself turning the lights on mid-afternoon to try and dispel the gloom caused by the raging storm outside.

  The ad break flashed upon the screen and she popped into the kitchen to give the pot of stew a quick stir. She’d given up waiting, and eaten her portion at 8.30, but there was plenty left for Jamie. He always said she cooked for an army rather than just the two of them.

  A rattle of sleet struck the kitchen window and Mia peered through the Venetian blind covering it; he’d be glad of a hot meal after being stuck in the traffic for so long. A quick tap of the wooden spoon against the side of the pot, and then she slipped the cast-iron lid back on. The pot was part of the Le Creuset set Jamie’s parents had given them as a wedding gift and the matching pans hung from a wooden rack above the centre of the kitchen worktop. She slid the pot back into the oven and adjusted the temperature down a notch.

  Ding-dong.

  At last! Mia hurried down the hall to the front door and tugged it open with a laugh. ‘Did you forget your keys—’ A shiver of fear ran down her back at the sight of the stern-looking policemen standing on the step. Rain dripped from the brims of their caps and darkened the shoulders of their waterproof jackets.