The Summer House of Happiness

by Daisy James

  ‘Oh, Max, I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say anything yet, because there’s something else I need to tell you, something I should have told you before now. Andrews Autos isn’t the only thing in Oakley I’ve grown to love.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘I love you, too, Gabbie. I love every single thing about you. I love your passion for your family, for the garage, for the people in the village. I love the way your hair falls over your eyes and you scoop it up over your head. I love the way your eyes shine when you’ve helped someone in that little summerhouse of yours. Do you think you can forgive me for my behaviour when I thought you were leaving? I was devastated, and I’m sorry for the way I reacted, but I thought I’d left it too late to tell you how I felt and that I’d lost you.’

  Gabbie stared at Max, drinking in the way his eyelashes curled like liquorice spider legs, the cute dimples that bracketed his mouth, and her heart hammered out a symphony of joy. Had he actually just told her he loved her?

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Max. I only went to talk to Rupert Carrington because I thought if I could get a job quickly, I might be able to persuade the bank to extend the overdraft. But as you know, that didn’t happen. When I found out the job was in Paris, I realised that all I’d be doing was winding back to exactly the same position I had been in at House of Gasnier. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what I was prepared to do to save the garage.’

  She held his eyes, but before she could continue and vocalise her feelings for Max, he leaned forward, pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips down on hers. She surrendered herself to his kiss; gentle and tentative at first, searching, questioning, before morphing into a hard, passionate message of the way he felt about her. She relished the explosion of excitement that blasted through her body, the return of the intense closeness they had previously shared, and the mounting desire pulsating through her veins. When he eventually severed their connection, she found she was trembling, but all she wanted to do was kiss him again, and again, and again.

  And so she did, until her heart soared and she started to laugh. If she had thought she was happy after leaving the bank an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how she felt sitting in her kitchen being kissed and kissed until her lips throbbed and her whole body jangled. When they finally broke apart, Gabbie caught a glint of mischief in Max’s eyes that immediately raised her curiosity.

  ‘Is there something else you’re not telling me?’

  ‘Well, I might just have had an ulterior motive for wanting to save the garage.’

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘I need somewhere to restore my next old wreck – like the one I bought at auction this lunchtime.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ asked Gabbie, her love for Max expanding until it filled every corner of her heart and soul. ‘Surely not another E-Type?’

  ‘Why don’t you come outside and see for yourself?’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gabbie followed Max into the lane at the rear of the house where a low-slung vehicle was covered in the green tarpaulin that had previously cloaked the Jag.

  ‘Want to do the unveiling?’ Max asked, his dark eyes boring into hers.

  ‘Okay.’

  She stepped forward, grasped the edge of the cloth, and yanked it away in one swift gesture.

  ‘Oh my God! Max! Max!’

  She leapt into his arms, laughing, crying, hugging him and finally kissing him with all the strength she could muster to show him how much she loved him.

  ‘I take it you approve?’ he laughed.

  ‘It’s absolutely amazing! It’s perfect. It’s…’

  ‘It needs some work. Well, actually, it needs a lot of work. Want to help me?’

  ‘Just try and stop me. Oh God, wait until Dad sees it – he’s going to go crazy!’

  Gabbie stood there in the road behind the garage as the sun dipped behind the horizon, feasting her eyes on the most precious memory she had. Parked before her was a Tahiti-blue Triumph Stag – identical to the one her parents had driven away in as they headed off for their honeymoon in Paris, save for the blisters of rust and the fact that it had no roof.

  Nevertheless, it was the most beautiful thing she had set eyes on. And she was thrilled at the prospect of being able to restore it with Max – and a little help from her father – until it was as immaculate as its predecessor. However, that wasn’t the reason why tears were rolling down her cheeks – those were for Max and what he’d done in the name of love.

  Max stood at her side, his arm slung gently around her shoulders as he enjoyed her reaction, his own eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Gabbie knew that the vehicle, shabby though it was at the moment, symbolised the start of something new and the fact that, from the ashes of hard times, from grief and loss and pain, good things could be born and nurtured into something spectacular – and that was exactly what she intended to do.

  ‘Hey! What are you two doing out here? Why aren’t you over at The Pear Tree? Mike’s at the bar and you know that only happens when there’s a blue moon!’

  Jeff’s voice tailed off towards the end of his sentence as he walked down the lane towards them and noticed for the first time what they were standing in front of.

  ‘Is that a…? No way! Where did you get it?’

  He came to a standstill in front of the bonnet, running his fingers through his hair as he drank in the sight of the car that meant more to him than any other. He glanced across at Gabbie and Max, their arms entwined, and gifted them a nod of approval that at last they were more than friends, clearly not trusting himself to speak to congratulate them on the change in their relationship. Then he looked back at the car, a little shaky with emotion as he crouched down to inspect the paintwork before lifting the bonnet to scrutinise the engine.

  ‘Like it, Dad?’

  ‘Gabbie, I…’

  Jeff found it difficult to continue and he whipped out his handkerchief to wipe the tears away before managing to say in a strained voice, ‘It’s exactly the same model Sofia and I had when we were married.’

  He continued to inspect every aspect of the Triumph Stag, surfing the onslaught of memories that were clear for all to see in his expression and silver-grey eyes. Gabbie stepped away from Max to stand next to her father, to curl her arm around his waist as he draped his over her shoulder and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘Oh, how I would have loved to see your mother’s face, sweetheart. But I know she’s looking down on us and sending her approval. Not only for Max’s impeccable choice of transport, but for your choice of partner, Gabbie.’

  Jeff reached out his free hand to invite Max into their family embrace and the three of them stood together in front of the little blue Stag until the final wisps of daylight evaporated.

  ‘Come on, let’s go inside. I have a proposal for you, Max.’

  Settled with mugs of coffee, they congregated around the kitchen table, chatting about the quirks of Triumph engines and how difficult it might be to locate the parts.

  ‘I might never be able to properly express my gratitude for what you’ve done for us, Max,’ said Jeff, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘But I can certainly show you. First, though, I need to make sure Gabbie’s okay with the garage changing its name.’

  ‘Changing its name?’

  As soon as the words exited her mouth Gabbie understood what her father was about to do, and she gave him a nod of encouragement before he turned towards Max.

  ‘I think Andrews & Fitzgerald Autos has a great ring to it, don’t you?’

  ‘I…’ Max’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘Jeff, you don’t have to…’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything, but I want to do this. Max, I want you to be my partner. How about we both take a forty-five per cent share? I’ll oversee the car-repair and maintenance part of the business, and you can make a start on your classic car restoration business? How does that sound?’

  ‘That
sounds amazing, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, thank you. Jeff, I won’t let you down. I’ve got so many plans, there’s so much I want to do.’

  ‘Erm, Dad, what’s happening to the other ten per cent?’

  ‘Well, I thought Wil might like to come onboard? What do you think?’

  ‘Wil might like to come onboard what?’ came a voice from the door.

  ‘Hi, Wil. I thought you might like to join us as a junior partner in Andrews & Fitzgerald Autos?’

  ‘Me? You want me to join you?’

  Wil’s mouth gaped open like a gobsmacked goldfish and Gabbie giggled as she shot out of her chair to hug him. ‘Welcome to the family, Wil.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’ve got to tell Alicia!’

  And he rushed back out of the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

  ‘Come on, the drinks are on me,’ said Jeff, ushering them in Wil’s wake towards The Pear Tree to toast a new chapter in the life of Andrews Autos.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘How are you getting on, sweetheart?’ asked Jeff, setting down a mug of coffee and a plate of his signature doorstop sandwiches as Gabbie took a five-minute break from the back-to-back appointments that had been the norm that week in the Summerhouse of Happiness.

  The print edition of Devonshire Lifestyle magazine had been published the previous day and since then she had been inundated with clients, not just for aromatherapy treatments, but for bespoke perfumes for special occasions. She loved every minute of being in her little wooden sanctuary, talking to people, hoping to delve beneath the veneer to understand their personalities, to find out which fragrances lingered in their memories, then experimenting with her essential oils until she had created the perfect perfume for them.

  ‘Great, thanks, Dad. Only another two people left to see and they’re hardly clients!’

  Her father laughed and she loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and how his chuckle came from deep within his chest. He looked ten years younger now the financial anxiety of running the garage had passed, and again her heart performed a cartwheel of adoration for the man who had been integral to making that happen. She loved Max and she never grew tired of saying that to him, nor of hearing him say it back to her.

  Many of her clients had commented on her cheerful, smiling demeanour, telling her that they wanted a phial of whatever she was using. She laughed. If she knew how to bottle the feeling of being in love, she would become a millionaire overnight.

  ‘Sweetheart, you really should tell Wil that Alicia will still love him if he stops using that cologne you make for him. And you do know he’s still calling it Gabbie’s love potion, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do know that, Dad,’ she giggled. ‘How can I not when I get asked for it at least twice a day! As Clara is my last client of the day, we’ll catch up with you in The Pear Tree, if that’s okay?’

  ‘No problem, see you later.’

  Gabbie had already made up a bottle of Wil’s signature aftershave, so when he turned up on the veranda, she handed it over to him straight away along with a hug. He thanked her profusely, just like he always did, telling her that his recent good fortune in the arena of love was all down to her and the Summerhouse of Happiness, and her heart gave a nip of delight at the pleasure that spread across his face as he clutched the glass column of liquid magic in his fist.

  ‘Hey, Gabbie, was that Wil I saw skipping across the village green just now?’

  ‘Probably,’ she laughed, telling Clara that she’d just supplied him with his love potion.

  ‘You know, you should take credit where it’s due, Gabbie. What you create in this little shed really does provide people with a splash of joy, even if it’s just for a few short moments while they relax in that gorgeous chair and tell you their innermost secrets.’

  ‘Well, it is called aromatherapy!’

  ‘Yes, but the Summerhouse of Happiness gives people something else, too. The chance to take that fleeting emotion away with them in a bottle so they can open it whenever they need to recapture that feeling of contentment. I actually think your dad was right when he suggested we called this place the Happiness Apothecary – it’s the perfect description of what you do here.’

  ‘Thanks, Clara. Now, what can I make for you? Do you have something special planned?’

  ‘I do.’

  Gabbie met her best friend’s bright-green eyes and saw that they were filled with sparkle.

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘Yes, you’ve guessed it! Owen proposed last night and I said yes! Oh, Gabbie, I’m so happy. I actually think there might be something in the air in Oakley, what with Wil and Alicia getting together, then you and Max, and now me and Owen getting married at last. Now, I need to ask you for two favours.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘First, I’d like you to create an amazing perfume for me to wear on my wedding day. Something with lily-of-the-valley, which is my mum’s favourite perfume, and maybe a few drops of gardenia and frangipani oil? What do you think?’

  ‘Sound perfect. I’ll make up a few different samples and you can tell me which one you like best.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What was the second favour?’

  ‘Will you be my bridesmaid?’

  ‘Oh my God! Yes! I’d love that!’

  A surge of emotion overtook Gabbie and tears flowed down her cheeks, causing Clara to join in until they were laughing and hugging and chatting about what Clara had planned for her wedding day, which seemed to Gabbie to be very well organised, bearing in mind Owen had only proposed the night before.

  As they walked arm-in-arm towards The Pear Tree, she saw Max and Owen were waiting for them on the doorstep and her heart performed a somersault of joy for her good fortune. With Max by her side, she knew she would continue to be the best advertisement the Summerhouse of Happiness could ever have.

  Epilogue

  Nine months later

  ‘Wow! That was the best wedding I’ve ever been to,’ announced Wil when he stumbled out of the voluminous white marquee, his face wreathed in smiles with Alicia by his side.

  ‘How many weddings have you been to, Wil?’

  ‘Well, this is my first, but…’

  Gabbie laughed. Wil was right. It had been a fabulous day, filled with love, laughter and joyous celebration. Never one for conformity, Clara had looked amazing in her knee-length ivory wedding dress, a pair of white Doc Martens she’d customised herself with sequins and gemstones, and with her blonde curls teased into the elegant Fifties’ style she loved.

  Owen, too, looked very dapper in a navy three-piece suit, a gold fob watch chain dangling from the waistcoat pocket, and a sprig of lily-of-the-valley in his lapel. He had spent the whole day declaring how much he adored Clara and had been overcome by emotion when delivering the groom’s speech so that his best man had had to step in to help his friend deliver the final few lines and ask the guests to raise their glasses to the bridesmaids.

  Gabbie had adored every minute of the day, from the moment dawn had sent fissures of apricot light over the rooftops of the village, to the hour after breakfast she had spent in St John’s church with her father, talking to her mum, telling her every detail about the day ahead; about the flowers, the music, the food, the fragrance she had created for Clara to wear. She had also told her about Max, how much she loved him and wished she could have introduced them. It was a bittersweet few moments that she wouldn’t have missed for anything.

  The wedding had gone without a hitch, and the guests had been fascinated by the guard of honour after the ceremony, formed from an arch of splendid long bows arranged by Jeff and Mike for Clara and Owen to walk through on their way from the church to the wedding cars. Clara had declared that when they got back from their honeymoon in Copenhagen they were both joining the archery club so she could own a long bow of her own.

  Then there had been the reception – held in Clara and Owen’s local pub in the next village – and they certainly knew how to thro
w a party, with a little help from Owen’s rugby friends. The live music had been provided by Owen’s cousin Jake, who played in a folk band. He had even written a ballad especially for the newlyweds and there wasn’t a dry eye in the pub when the final note sounded.

  But the very best part of the day for Gabbie had been having Max by her side, looking extraordinarily handsome in a charcoal-grey suit, his hair neatly barbered into a familiar quiff. When she had first set eyes on him in the church, her heart had melted, especially when he’d turned in his pew, his dark eyes fixed on hers as he watched her make her way down the aisle behind Clara.

  ‘Three cheers for the bride and groom!’ cried Wil as the couple appeared on the steps of the pub to say their farewells and make their way to the airport in Clara’s Mini Cooper, which had been liberally adorned with ribbons, handmade Just Married signs, and tin cans on long pieces of string.

  Everyone raised their glasses and chorused a toast to send them on their way.

  ‘Hey, Clara! What about your bouquet?’ cried Alicia, sending a mischievous wink in Wil’s direction. Gabbie laughed when she saw his face flood with heat and wished she’d had her camera ready.

  ‘Okay, everyone! Ready?’

  Gabbie noticed that Clara had caught her eye, sending her a very clear message as she raised her flowers in the air and purposely tossed them in her direction. It was the easiest catch she had ever made and when she saw the look of relief on Wil’s face she couldn’t help giggling. Then she met Max’s gaze and he gave her a knowing smile before hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her close.