The Summer House of Happiness

by Daisy James

  Mike leaned back in his chair and rubbed his abdomen in an effort to relieve the discomfort. Having conveniently failed to mention their sneaky diversion to The Raj in the next village, Jeff glanced guiltily at Gabbie and she rolled her eyes at him.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’

  She laughed. ‘It’s okay, Dad. You’re entitled to have a few beers and a curry with your friends on a Saturday night. Just don’t want you to do it every night, that’s all. Where’s the pain, Mike?’

  Mike grimaced and pointed out the exact spot. ‘Chemist is shut, so I’ll just have to put up with the consequences of my overindulgence. I don’t think I feel up to taking part in the competition this afternoon, but I’ll be an enthusiastic spectator, don’t worry.’

  ‘Hang on. I might have something that will help. Just give me a minute…’

  Gabbie left the men in the kitchen and made her way to the summerhouse. This time, when she unlocked the door, it occurred to her that she was becoming a more frequent visitor than she had expected. Could it be that her sorrow was subsiding? Or could it have something to do with Max’s encouraging her to ensure that what she had created in the little wooden cabin in the garden lived on as a fitting tribute to her mother? Perhaps it was a combination of both of these things because the harsh stab of loss she had felt during her previous forays was absent this time. All that was on her mind was what to prescribe to alleviate Mike’s pain, but she knew immediately.

  She reached for the flask containing the peppermint oil, unscrewed the lid and inhaled. Ah, she loved that smell, so clean, so fresh, the sharp menthol aroma never failing to give her spirits a lift. But the oil was also known to deliver relief to a clogged digestive system and therefore the perfect treatment for Mike – it had worked every time for her mum when she had the same symptoms, even after a light meal of toast and jam.

  With her mother’s approval ringing in her ears, she trotted back to the kitchen where she added a couple of drops to a glass of water before handing it to Mike, who gave her a sceptical look, crinkling up his nose as though she’d handed him a drink laced with arsenic.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s only peppermint oil.’

  ‘How will that work?’

  ‘Give it a go.’

  Mike shrugged his shoulders and downed it in one, licking his lips.

  ‘Tastes okay. I’ll let you know what happens. See you later, Jeff? Bye, Gabbie, and thanks.’

  Mike left them sitting at the kitchen table, waving his goodbyes through the window as he made his way to his ancient Renault Laguna estate.

  ‘If he turns up to the shoot and wins gold, I’ll be cursing your well-intended intervention!’ laughed Jeff, slinging his arm around Gabbie’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and fetch the old recurve bow from the spare room and I’ll sort you out with a sight and finger guard.’

  Later, after Gabbie had made a valiant attempt to land at least one of her arrows in the straw boss to which the most minuscule of targets had been attached, her father sent her a ‘told you so’ look as Mike accepted the coveted gold medal.

  ‘Gabbie, darling, it’s great to see you home at last,’ said Helen, as the rising wind on the exposed archery field whipped her pewter-coloured hair into something more akin to a bird’s nest than Sunday best. The archery club colours of orange and navy blue suited her slender figure and she wore her leather quiver at a jaunty angle round her waist. ‘And thanks ever so much for helping Mike out earlier with one of your special potions. He was really upset when he woke up this morning with stomach cramps. It was his own fault, of course – too much beer and spicy food always has the same effect, but does he learn? You know, that peppermint oil really worked – well, you can see that for yourself.’

  They looked across to where Mike was standing on the shooting line, holding his medal out in front of him, a broad smile on his lips while the club secretary took a few snaps for the monthly newsletter. Jeff looked on, proud of his friend’s triumph, his new bow cradled in his arms like a beloved pet.

  The women giggled and moved forward to join them for a final photograph. Gabbie realised she had been so engrossed in her shooting that she hadn’t once thought about the state of the accounts or the dreaded meeting with the bank. She resolved to join her father more often for a session of father-daughter bonding.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Monday morning brought a downpour of epic proportions. It was after eight o’clock but the sky was still gloomy and the weather forecasters were promising more of the same throughout the day. Gabbie pulled on a pale-pink Arran sweater her gran had knitted for her mum and a pair of comfortable jeans because she intended to sit at the computer for the rest of the day, updating her CV and researching what kinds of positions were available in her area of expertise. Having thought about it overnight, her sensible side had won out, and while she would have loved to start her own business straight away, as Max had suggested, she knew there was a great deal she needed to know before taking the plunge.

  ‘Gabbie? You in there?’

  ‘Come on in, Wil. Want a coffee?’

  ‘Love one.’

  As they waited for the kettle to boil, Wil started to whistle and Gabbie smirked.

  ‘You’re chirpy this morning. Want to share the secret?’

  ‘Absolutely, especially as you’re the reason I’m so happy.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Gabbie Andrews, I owe you a huge bottle of your favourite tipple,’ declared Wil, his cheeks glowing with pleasure as he jiggled on the spot in an effort to get out his effusive thanks more quickly.

  ‘Erm, thanks…’

  ‘You know that love potion you made for me?’

  ‘It wasn’t a love potion, Wil, but go on.’

  ‘Well, it worked.’

  ‘Okay, I’m delighted to hear that. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?’

  ‘I met Alicia in The Pear Tree on Saturday night and the first thing she asked me when we sat down with our pints was what sort of aftershave I was wearing. I wish you could have seen the look on her face when she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, long breath. I won’t lie – I expected her to laugh and make some joke about its being just a grade above the Old Screenwash Spice, but she didn’t. She gave me a kiss on the cheek, and after that I totally relaxed and we had an amazing night. And best of all, she’s agreed to go out with me again on Thursday. And get this… We’re meeting up with her sister and brother-in-law and we’re going bowling followed by a Chinese. Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is all down to you, Gabbie, and your Summerhouse of Happiness. I intend to sing your praises far and wide!’

  And for the first time since Wil had come to the garage as a traumatised sixteen-year-old, he leaned over and deposited a quick peck on Gabbie’s cheek before grabbing his coffee and rushing into the garage to make a start on the black Citroen C3 that needed a complete set of new tyres. Minutes later, the dulcet notes of a George Benson song blasted from the garage forecourt to which Wil added his own off-key lyrics.

  ‘Hey, turn that down, Casanova!’ shouted Max, his eyes alive with mischief as he peeled off his leather jacket and hung it on the peg to dry, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture reminiscent of the guys from Grease.

  ‘Hey, Gabbie. Any of that delicious-smelling coffee left?’

  ‘Sure.’ She smiled, her heart taking on a mind of its own by skipping to the rhythm of ‘Lady Love Me’ as she handed Max a mug. ‘How was your weekend?’

  ‘Well, I had a fabulous date on Saturday night. You?’

  ‘Same.’

  She was glad Max had chosen not to share the details with Wil. It was early days and she wanted to hug the knowledge of their increasing closeness to herself for a while, to savour the new emotions that were swirling around her body and enjoy the secrecy. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop her from taking a few moments to appreciate the curve of his buttocks when he reached forwar
d to gather the tools he needed to service the Kermit-green BMW owned by the local undertaker.

  ‘Did Wil tell you we bumped into Andrea in The Pear Tree yesterday afternoon? She was on a rare day out with her book-club friends who, from the state they were in, probably know more about Chianti than characters. Don’t think there was a book in sight but there were at least ten empty wine bottles on the table when we saw them. She’s looking so much happier, by the way, since you went round to pay her a visit with one of your little bottles of happiness – which brings me to my point.’

  Gabbie saw Max exchange a glance with Wil before pressing on.

  ‘So, Andrea has told all her friends about your treatment of Jacob’s wasp sting, then how you whipped up some magic bath oil that helps her to sleep, and then this guy here…’ Max ruffled Wil’s red hair.

  ‘Hey, gerroff!’

  ‘…Pipes up to wax lyrical about his love potion. I feel it’s my duty to warn you that there might be a queue forming at the door of your summerhouse this morning, and you may want to be prepared.’

  ‘Sorry, Gabbie, I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.’

  Gabbie laughed.

  ‘It’s not. And don’t worry, I doubt very much anyone is interested!’

  ‘Come on, Wil, that Citroen isn’t going to fit its own tyres and I promised Susan we’d have it ready for twelve so she can take her sister to the hospital.’

  ‘Aye-aye, boss!’

  Gabbie returned to the kitchen, intent on replenishing her cup with industrial-strength coffee to help her navigate the labyrinth of job vacancies. She had only got as far as the kitchen sink when a rap on the back door interrupted her train of thought. She leaned over the taps to see who it was, but didn’t recognise the woman on the doorstep with the shock of dark curls flying into the wind.

  ‘Hello? Can I help you?’

  ‘Oh, erm, hello. Are you Gabbie Andrews?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m, well, I’m really sorry to bother you, but Andrea Garstang recommended you. I’m Felicity Brown, by the way. I live over in Ashby. I was wondering if…’

  To the woman’s credit, she looked embarrassed, shuffling from one foot to the other as she clutched the strap of her handbag closer to her chest. Gabbie opened her mouth to forestall the inevitable request she could see forming on Felicity’s lips; to say, sorry, she couldn’t help her. But something in the woman’s dark-green eyes caught Gabbie’s attention – a glint of beseeching mingled with hope.

  Gabbie’s curiosity was piqued. She wondered what world-enhancing tonic Felicity was expecting her to come up with. However, she suspected that, whatever it was, from the way she kept glancing down at her fingernails, which had been bitten to the quick, her presence on her doorstep wasn’t for selfish reasons, and Gabbie took pity on her.

  ‘Come on in and tell me how I can help.’

  ‘It’s, well, it’s not the car-repair side of the Andrews business I’m interested in.’

  To Gabbie’s surprise and amusement, Felicity actually gave her a slow, meaningful wink, tossing her head comically over her shoulder towards the summerhouse to signal the true reason for her mission. There followed a couple of beats of silence, during which Felicity had the grace to blush, and Gabbie managed to rein in her need to giggle.

  ‘Okay. No problem. I’ll just get the key.’

  It seemed Max’s prediction had come to fruition, but at least there wasn’t a queue to contend with. She led Felicity to the summerhouse and ushered her inside, indicating the flower-bedecked seat that seemed to have become the consultation chair. Gabbie grabbed a wooden stool and sat down next to her, ready to listen to her customer’s requirements before suggesting the appropriate remedy.

  ‘So, I should explain. I’m in Andrea’s book club and she’s told me all about your aromatherapy oils, and that the one you made for her really helped her get some rest. Poor woman, we were so worried about her, you know. Three boisterous children to look after, husband away all the time. You’ve really helped her to manage – it’s amazing what we can do on a good night’s sleep, don’t you think? Sunday was the first time she’s made it to one of our ladies’ literary lunches this year!’

  Gabbie wanted to assure her it was the least she could do, but she needed Felicity to get to the point of her visit as quickly as possible because she had a CV to draft and jobs to apply for, so she simply nodded and smiled encouragingly.

  ‘So, it got me thinking.’ Again, a flush of colour rose to Felicity’s cheeks but she held Gabbie’s eyes. ‘My eldest son, Eddie, is due to take his drama exam tomorrow. Bless him, he studies really hard, learns all his lines, reads the scripts from back to front, but when it comes to the actual live performance in front of the examiners – and all the questions they ask afterwards – he just goes to pieces. He’s desperate to get into LAMDA next year – only ever wanted to be an actor; a serious actor, mind you, not one of those reality stars – but if he doesn’t get the top grade he’ll definitely not get in. He’s word-perfect and he knows the play backwards but he just can’t seem to control his nerves.’

  Gabbie watched Felicity twist a tissue through her fingers as she pleaded her son’s case. Her heart gave a sharp nip of empathy for Eddie’s plight. She knew just how he felt as she suffered from exam nerves too – not to mention the anxiety that had threatened to overwhelm her when she stood in front of the competition judges to present her perfumes before she won her industry award in the summer. What if she had to do that again in her new job? She dragged her thoughts back to the present because Felicity was still speaking.

  ‘Eddie had a fantastic role in a murder-mystery play at the Barnfield Theatre in Exeter last month and he wasn’t nervous at all. It just seems to be a problem when there’s an examiner sitting in the room. So… I was just wondering… whether you had any advice that might help him to stay calm, just to get through tomorrow’s performance? Anything at all. I’ll pay you, of course.’

  ‘Gosh, Felicity, there’s no need…’ Gabbie began before she realised that was no way to go on if she was considering running a professional business. She had to start thinking like a successful entrepreneur if she wanted to become one. ‘Thanks, Felicity. Is it okay if I drop my invoice off at your house later? I haven’t had a chance to work out my charges yet, but for my first ten customers there’ll be a fifty per cent discount. How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds perfect. Thank you, thank you so much.’

  Tears of gratitude gathered along the woman’s mahogany lashes. Gabbie smiled and patted her hand, a blast of pleasure exploding in her chest that with twenty minutes of her time, and the promise of a few drops of essential oil, she could change a person’s mood so swiftly.

  ‘Look, I can’t guarantee your son will pass his exam, but there has been some recent research by Northumbria University that suggests rosemary oil could help in similar circumstances – to increase alertness and enhance memory, which together may boost his confidence and calm his exam jitters.’

  ‘Really? Well, that sounds perfect.’

  ‘I need to ask you a few questions about Eddie’s medical history first, and you have to promise me you’ll follow my instructions to the letter, okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Gabbie stood on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf, removed a large bottle containing a dark-gold liquid, and decanted a few precious drops into a carrier oil. She paused to inhale the rich herbaceous aroma of rosemary mingled with a top note of crushed pine needles. Rosemary oil was one of the more versatile oils she had on her shelf and had been one of her mother’s favourites. Not only could it be used to enhance memory, but her mother had used it to encourage growth after the devastating loss of her thick, chestnut hair by adding a few drops to her coconut shampoo.

  ‘Mmm, that smells amazing,’ murmured Felicity, closing her eyes to inhale the sweet, woody aroma.

  ‘I think the best way to use it is if you put a couple of drops on a ball of cotton wool, pop
it in his pocket, and encourage him to take it out just before the audition to give him a boost. Let me know how he gets on, won’t you?’

  ‘I will. Thanks, Gabbie, thank you so much.’

  Before Gabbie knew what was happening, Felicity had leapt out of her seat and engulfed her in a tight embrace, her tears breaching the dam this time and glistening on her cheeks.

  ‘Andrea was right. You are an amazing person. Erm, do you think I could ask you one last question?’

  ‘Go for it.’

  Gabbie smiled as she locked the door of the summerhouse and pocketed the key, reflecting on the fact that the habitual sadness at her mother’s passing hadn’t reared its ugly head. She recognised that Felicity’s visit had played a part in that, and Max’s words came rushing back to her; that helping others to be happy could make you happy, too.

  ‘When we were in The Pear Tree yesterday, one of the guys said you’d made him a love potion.’

  Gabbie laughed. ‘Don’t even go there! I did not make Wil a love potion. If anything, I created a personalised eau de cologne for him to wear on a successful date. Much as I’d like to take the credit, I think it was Wil’s inherent charm and quirky sense of humour that produced the desired outcome, nothing to do with me! Please, Felicity, whatever you do – do not spread that rumour around the village! I’ll definitely have a queue at my door then!’

  They had arrived on the garage forecourt where Felicity had parked her battered silver Toyota.

  ‘It was great to meet you, Gabbie.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘If you fancy joining our book club, you’d be more than welcome. We meet every fortnight and it usually consists of ten minutes talking about the book, then the rest of the time we concentrate on that essential trio of female solace – wine, chocolate and a good gossip. Come! You’ll have fun and we could all do with a little more of that in our lives.’