The most wonderful time of the year?
Katie Warham has just one wish this year…to have the best Christmas ever! If only she could lock herself away in a cloud of flour and sugar at her cosy little tearoom, Crumbtious Cakes, instead of spending the festive season trapped with her judgemental mother, crazy Aunt Gina and loved-up celebrity brother Carl…
But Katie never expected her ex-boyfriend, widower Sam – and his two adorable children – to turn up on her doorstep. She didn’t think that any man could tempt her under the mistletoe this year, but Sam might just prove the exception! And as the snow begins to fall and Katie puts the final touches to her famous Christmas cake, she begins to wonder, could her Christmas wish actually come true?
This holiday season, snuggle up by a roaring fire with a mulled wine and enjoy Darcie Boleyn’s festive winter warmer!
Wish Upon a Christmas Cake
Darcie Boleyn
www.CarinaUK.com
DARCIE BOLEYN
has a huge heart and is a real softy. She never fails to cry at books and movies, whether the ending is happy or not. Darcie is in possession of an overactive imagination that often keeps her awake at night. Her childhood dream was to become a Jedi but she hasn’t yet found suitable transport to take her to a galaxy far, far away. She also has reservations about how she’d look in a gold bikini, as she rather enjoys red wine, cheese and loves anything with ginger or cherries in it – especially chocolate. Darcie fell in love in New York, got married in the snow, rescues uncoordinated greyhounds and can usually be found reading or typing away on her laptop.
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Title Page
Author Bio
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Endpages
Copyright
Special thanks to my husband, you support me and inspire me. You see me as no one else does and that enables me to see the world in vivid colour. You have encouraged me throughout this journey and I love you deeply. The day we married was the day I finally became me.
My daughter, you are the sweetest girl in the world. I love how you light up when a new book is placed in your hands. Your enthusiasm and kindness are infectious and you make the world a better place.
My son, your questions keep me on my toes. I love it when we bake together. You make me more adventurous and help me to overcome my fears with your own bravery. I learn from you every day.
Jimbo, Jim and Granny. Always. XXX
Nan and Bamp, you made me feel like a part of your family from the very beginning. Nan, your love of Christmas and family was in my heart when I wrote this story. I miss you.
Thanks to my editors for your support and encouragement - Lucy Gilmour, Victoria Oundjian and Charlotte Mursell.
A huge thank you to the Carina author group, where I have found friendship, support and advice. No question is too random or too awkward to ask you guys. From word races to comfort to giggles, you cover all the bases.
Finally, thank you to
Deb, Emma, Kelly, Sarah, Clare, Donna and Yvonne.
Merry Christmas!
XXX
To my nine, you are my inspiration and my world.
Chapter 1
‘No. I’m not going. I just can’t face it.’ I shook my head as I used a damp cloth to wipe the crumbs from the stainless-steel worktop into my cupped hand.
‘What do you mean you’re not going, Katie? Of course you’re going.’ My best friend Ann adjusted her blue hairnet and frowned at me across the kitchen of Crumbtious, our West Hampstead cake shop. Her pretty grey eyes twinkled behind her square framed glasses. ‘Your presence is required at the Warham family Christmas.’
I sighed and dropped the crumbs into the bin. Ann was right. How could I fail to attend? The Christmas family get-together had been planned for months – a way to give my parents a proper send-off before they moved abroad – and my brother Karl would never forgive me if I didn’t go. Besides, a few days in the beautiful Garden of England at the glorious Hawthorne Manor might be just the thing I needed. It had been a good year for our business, but I couldn’t deny that it had been hectic and, of course, losing my Granny had hit me hard. I really was exhausted and needed to recharge before heading into the New Year.
Ann and I met at college on a hospitality and catering course. We’d formed a close friendship over three years of studying together. She had helped me through some really tough times – the toughest being the devastating loss of my baby and subsequent break-up with Sam, my first love.
After graduating, Ann and I had both gained some experience working for other businesses across the country, then, armed with our combined knowledge of spreadsheets and net versus gross, we had taken the plunge into the mixing bowl and set up on our own two years ago. It had been working out for us – so well that we’d even been able to move to bigger premises in the summer. I was proud of our achievements, but I really could use a break and this might be my only chance for some time.
‘Okay, smarty pants, I’m going. But will you be okay here without me? I mean, we’ve been run off our feet and it’s Christmas and we’ll be really busy tomorrow and…’ I clutched at straws but they slipped through my fingers. It could prove to be a restful break but I also knew that my family would want my time and attention, as well as explanations about my latest relationship gone wrong, and I didn’t know if I had the emotional reserves to deal with it all. Perhaps I should have booked a few days away in Lapland or some other destination I could have headed to alone.
Ann held up a hand. ‘Don’t even try that one. It’s only four days until Christmas, Katie, so you can’t change your plans this late in the day. Besides, we’ve informed our customers that we’ll only be open until twelve on Christmas Eve, so you absolutely must go on the twenty-third after closing as planned. And, don’t forget, Mark finishes work tomorrow, so he’ll be here to help out. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’ She smiled fondly and I knew that she was thinking about spending some quality time with her very-ambitious lover. ‘We’re closed then until the twenty-eighth, so it’s a good time for you to go.’
‘Well as long as you’re sure, but I’ll drive back Sunday evening so I can open up bright and early on Monday.’ December twenty-seventh suddenly sounded like a long time away.
‘No problem. Now go on through to the shop and close the blinds while I fix us a drink.’ She waved me away and I anticipated the luxury of resting my aching legs. When you’re on your feet all day, sitting down in the evening is absolute bliss.
I walked through to the shop and stood still for a moment, taking it all in. It still amazed me how far we’d come. I was living the dream; I had my own business at thirty-two and I was doing exactly what I loved every day while working alongside my best friend. How many people get that lucky? We had settled on West Hampstead as a prime location for our cake shop, keen to maximise business potential so that our venture would continue to thrive. With our combined savings and a business loan, it had been possible to afford the rent on the shop. N
erve-wracking – investing all that we had and taking on debt – but possible. West Hampstead was also far enough away from our hometown of Sevenoaks to provide me with reasons for not visiting my parents every week, yet not too far to return for the odd weekend or during the holidays.
The L-shaped tearoom housed a counter to the left of the door from the kitchen, which curved in a semi-circle. On the counter top was a large display case that housed an array of cakes and pastries during shop hours. To the right of the door was a large fridge full of soft drinks, chilled desserts, milk and cream. There were eight circular tables, currently covered with festive red and gold cloths, spread out across the restored oak floor boards, and in the large bay window sat a soft old leather couch next to an original cast-iron fireplace. The restrooms were situated through a door set in the back wall. It was just as I’d always imagined my own cake shop would be—pretty, cosy and welcoming. It was a place people could come to alone, or with company, somewhere to sit and enjoy a warm drink and a cake over a chat or while reading a good book. Recently, we’d even had an author visiting us on a daily basis. She was twenty-something with brown bobbed hair and a shy smile. She didn’t boast about being an author but Ann, being quite forward and a bit cheeky, asked her outright. It was thrilling knowing that she’s creating her stories as she consumes our mince pies and hot chocolate while she sits on the sofa with her feet curled up under her and the world passing by outside.
I’d fallen in love with the shop building as soon as I’d seen it, even though it had needed a full refurbishment having previously housed a tanning salon then a discount clothes store. The former owners clearly hadn’t appreciated the Victorian features and they’d covered up the beautiful original fireplace with chipboard and the wooden floor with cheap sticky tiles. It had taken me two weeks to get the tiles up and to sand and polish the boards, but every time I looked at them I was filled with the satisfaction of a job well done.
I crossed to the windows and read the sign we’d had painted on the glass in a Victorian-style font – Crumbtious Cakes and Tearoom. My stomach flipped with the excitement that never seemed to die down whenever I thought about my baby; the business that is. I let the blinds down, then slumped onto the comfortable sofa that seemed to welcome me, its cushions puffing up around my legs like a big squishy hug.
It was perfect. Ann and I had been preparing for months to get our first Christmas in the new shop just right. We had decided to have a real Christmas tree to create a genuine festive atmosphere. I loved the fresh pine scent as well as the Victorian decorations Ann and I had created to adorn its prickly branches. My favourites had to be the spicy fragrant orange and apple slices which I’d cut thinly and baked until they were dry, then studded with cloves and tied up with red and green ribbon. Their scent was positively mouth-watering and reminiscent of Christmases gone by. We’d also made our own beaded Christmas tree ornaments by taking a pile of plain old red and gold baubles and gluing tiny colourful beads, crystals and tassels to them. We’d had a lot of fun combing the local market stalls and charity shops to find old decorations to use.
My heart gave a flip as my eyes landed on the one tree decoration that didn’t match the rest. A tiny pink teddy bear. I’d hung it high up on the tree, out of the reach of little fingers, but in a prime spot so that it was visible from the counter. Maybe it was overly sentimental that I’d kept it and maybe it was ridiculous that I still took it out of its soft gold tissue wrapping every year and hung it on the Christmas tree, but it was my way of letting her, my little baby, know that I hadn’t forgotten and that I never would. Whatever I achieved in life, wherever I went, she would always be in my heart.
Ann and I hadn’t put lights on the tree because of the dried fruit, but we had draped them around the windows and woven them into the lattice on the front of the counter. They flashed now in the semi-darkness, their myriad colours casting a warm rainbow glow across the shop floor.
Either side of the fireplace hung two large stockings. Throughout December, our regular customers had filled them with gifts for the patients of the children’s ward at the local hospital. The idea had come about after one of the school-mums had asked what Ann and I wanted as thanks for all the delicious cakes we’d baked, as well as for being so welcoming to their pre-school children. Apparently, not all businesses were so understanding about sticky fingerprints and constant noise before eleven in the mornings, although it didn’t seem to bother our resident author. We had arranged for the parents of one of the hospital’s long-term patients to collect and deliver the gifts on Christmas Eve.
Ann appeared in the doorway with two large mugs and I grinned, anticipating what delights she had created. When she handed me my mug, I wasn’t disappointed. The surface of the drink was frothy with whipped cream and when I sniffed it, the warming aromas of ginger and cinnamon made my mouth water. I couldn’t resist sticking my finger into the cream and scooping out one of our homemade gingerbread marshmallows. I placed it on my tongue and allowed it to slowly melt there, the sugary surface soon giving way to a soft and gooey centre.
‘Good?’ Ann asked as she sat next to me and grinned at me from beneath a whipped cream moustache.
‘Heavenly.’ I raised my mug to my lips and blew on the liquid, eager to cool it down and drink it. We sat like that, in the companionable silence of good friends, as we consumed our calorific hot chocolates and I could feel the strains of the day slipping away from me until I was almost comatose.
Ann turned in her seat to look at me. ‘So do you want to talk about it?’ Trust her to wait until I was too relaxed to put up a fight. I shrugged. How many times could we discuss the same old things?
‘Is it just Esther that’s worrying you?’
I bit my bottom lip. Was I worried about my mother being hard work over Christmas? Yes, but it was more than that. This year, there was so much more to think about and my vulnerability might mean that I couldn’t brush off Esther’s barbs in my usual practised way.
‘I’m pretty good at dealing with her after all these years, so it’s not really that. I just know that this Christmas is going to be so much harder…you know?’ I swallowed hard.
Ann covered my hand with her own and squeezed. ‘Because of your granny?’
I nodded and blinked hard. ‘I’m going to miss her so much this year. I mean, I’ve missed her madly these past few months but it’s just harder somehow at Christmas. It seems so wrong that she won’t be there.’
Ann reached out and wiped a rogue tear from my cheek. I took a few deep breaths, determined not to crumble.
‘What would your granny want you to do, Katie?’
‘To spend Christmas with my family.’
‘And why?’
‘Because her family was everything to her.’
‘Well there you go.’
I met Ann’s eyes and tried to smile. She gave me a sympathetic one in return and patted my hand, then something seemed to occur to her. Ann stood up and headed to the kitchen.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Be right back,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I have an idea…’
I lay my head back against the sofa and thought about Granny. She had been such a character. A tiny, intelligent and witty lady, she’d been an eternal optimist, capable of seeing the silver lining in every cloud. On top of that, she’d been a layer of protection, soaking up some of the damage my mother could do by unfalteringly defending me and making me giggle whenever Esther became a bit overbearing. But now Granny was gone.
I had tried so hard over the years to let my mother’s negative comments wash over me but sometimes, even though I was thirty-two, she still managed to hurt me. But then a mother is meant to be a woman’s ultimate role model, her port in the storm, her protector. With Esther, it had never really seemed that way because she was always so bloody critical. Granny had been all the good things for me; basically another mother. It was like being in an American TV show growing up, with the good cop and the bad cop.
‘Here we go,’ Ann sang as she sashayed back into the shop. She placed a plate with a piece of our famous Christmas cake on it and a fork in front of me.
‘What’s this for?’ I asked. I was already riding the sugar high from her delicious hot chocolate.
‘Wish upon a Christmas cake!’ Ann exclaimed.
‘Huh?’ I raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.
‘Well I won’t have a wishbone till Christmas Day and it’s too cloudy for shooting stars tonight so I say we wish upon a Christmas cake that this be the best Warham family Christmas ever.’ She smiled encouragingly, but I still eyed her dubiously. ‘Oh come on, what have you got to lose? It could work; Esther might be nice for Christmas and you could get a tall, dark and handsome hunk in your stocking!’ She winked at me.
My heart pounded so I inhaled slowly. It had been a good day and I really didn’t want to ruin it by becoming all melancholy. It was Christmas, Granny’s favourite time of year, and I was determined to make her proud by savouring every moment. I smiled at Ann, she was only trying to help. ‘Okay,’ I said, stabbing a piece of cake with the fork. I closed my eyes and popped the moist, brandy-soaked fruit sponge in my mouth, wishing for a happy family Christmas – even without Granny.
I knew that we would all miss Granny and that I wouldn’t be alone in that. I’d tried to avoid thinking about it by keeping busy and avoiding going back to my parents’ house but I knew that I couldn’t run for ever. My father had lost his mother, Esther had lost a mother-in-law she’d lived with for the past three years and known for much longer, and my brother Karl would miss the grandmother who’d doted on him. I realised, the more I thought about it, that I wanted to be with my family this year. Who knew when we’d manage another big old-fashioned family Christmas? If we ever would with Mum and Dad moving away. Things could change so quickly from one day to the next. So I would make every effort for Granny this Christmas; I would aim to make her proud.
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