by Liz Eeles
‘That wasn’t the type of drink I meant but I guess one of your cappuccinos is better than nothing. Go on, then.’
The rich aroma of coffee beans wafts through the café as Jasmine starts wrapping and Zac loops red paper garlands and rainbow tinsel across the ceiling.
‘You do know that this place is starting to look like Mum and Dad’s house, don’t you?’ says Jasmine, sitting next to a growing mound of wrapped gifts. She’s making a much better job of it than I would have.
‘I’m not going that far over the top but Mum and Dad’s place is always welcoming, and that’s what I’m aiming for here.’
‘I don’t know how welcoming their place will be if Mum moves out for good. Do you think she will? That was pretty heavy stuff this morning.’
‘No, I don’t think Mum will move out. She doesn’t want to leave him, not really. She’s just feeling unfulfilled and ready to start a new chapter in her life, if Dad stops being such an idiot about it. And he needs to take her out more. He’s always disappearing down the pub with his mates or playing golf with Sid up the road.’
‘You could invite them to the party tomorrow.’
‘They wouldn’t come. Dad would hate it. Though I guess it would be a chance for him to prove that he’s willing to start putting Mum’s wishes first, for a change.’
‘Wouldn’t you mind them coming to your party?’
‘Not at all. I can square it with Logan, and it might be good for them.’
And good for me too, because I want Mum and Dad to see that I’m not just panic attacks and abandoned ambition. I want them to see what a fabulous party I can organise in the wonderful café that I’ve helped to create.
‘You should invite them, then.’
‘I think I will, and you should come too, and Zac, of course.’
‘Are you sure Logan will be OK with family and friends pitching up?’ asks Zac.
‘I don’t think he can complain when I’m sorting all this out for him, and I’ll feel more relaxed if you’re around to calm the book club down if they start going wildly off piste. I can tell Logan you’re all here to help make sure the party runs smoothly. So you’re both invited and I’ll definitely invite Mum and Dad too. She’ll love getting all dressed up.’
Jasmine sits back on her heels and brushes hair from her face with the back of her hand. ‘You really “get” Mum, don’t you, and her “new chapter”? More than me. But then I guess you’re starting a new chapter too, with all that’s happening in your life, and all those feelings coming to the surface.’
‘What do you mean?’ I’ve gone hot and cold at the thought that Jasmine knows how I feel about Zac and is going to blurt something out when he might overhear.
‘Yeah, what do you mean?’ asks Zac, who’s abandoned the stepladder to grab another sip of his caramel macchiato. He gives Jasmine a look I can’t decipher – a secret understanding between people who are close.
‘I just mean that you’ve managed to bag a date with one of Honeyford’s most eligible bachelors. Are you looking forward to it?’
‘Of course. It’s…’ I pause. ‘Well, it’s a real confidence boost, if you must know. I’m not always the most confident of people.’
‘No shit, Sherlock!’ snorts Jasmine. ‘I’m happy for you that you’re feeling good about it.’ She shoots Zac another look I can’t make out, before turning back to her wrapping paper. ‘Only another ten bits of old tat to wrap. Are you sure your guests are going to like these, Beccs?’
‘They’re not supposed to like them, exactly. The gifts are reminiscent of lucky dips at Christmas fairs across the country and what you get when you pull a good old British cracker. Ooh, crackers! I must pick some up tomorrow and scatter them about the place.’
‘You’re flamin’ crackers,’ mutters Jasmine. ‘Both of you. No wonder you’re best friends. And I wasn’t being rude about your hair this morning, by the way. I was simply surprised that you’ve gone blonde. I’d have thought blonde would be far too tame for you.’
‘I felt like a change.’
‘For Logan?’
‘For myself, actually.’
‘Are you sure?’
I nod, though I’m not sure really. Everything has become muddled and it’s getting harder to tell where one of my mini Christmas wishes begins and another ends.
‘What do you really think of my hair?’
Asking Jasmine is risky because she’s likely to be brutally honest. She tilts her head to one side and considers for a moment. ‘Yeah, it’s nice. Good cut and a nice colour.’
Urgh, more ‘nice’. I grab my cooling coffee and a handful of red glass baubles. ‘I really appreciate both of you helping me. I’d have been here until the early hours otherwise.’
‘I thought Flora would be here, giving you a hand,’ says Zac from halfway up the ladder as I walk over to the tree.
‘She wanted to but Caleb is appearing in a play and then she and Daniel are going out for a meal. It’s been arranged for ages. She said she’d cancel but I wouldn’t let her.’
‘And Logan? I’m surprised he’s not here helping you to make good the party that he cocked up in the first place.’
‘He wanted to help, too, and was really apologetic that he couldn’t, but he was working late and then going straight on to his office’s Christmas do. I told him not to worry because I could manage without him.’
I start hanging baubles from the branches and try not to think of Logan having a great time, getting drunk and probably flirty with his female co-workers. I thought he might give his Christmas do a miss to help me, but he took me at my word when I said I could manage on my own.
An hour later, everything’s more or less done. The original festive decorations are back in place, Rudy’s nose is glowing from the counter, the tree is groaning under myriad glass baubles and strands of tinsel, and there’s a mountain of wrapped gifts ready for the lucky dip.
‘Just one last thing,’ I say, climbing the stepladder to the top of the tree and putting Auntie Edna back in her rightful place. She gazes imperiously across the welcoming café, her halo flashing on and off and reflecting in the gleaming copper kettles that mean so much to Stanley.
I climb down, stand with my hands on my hips, and take a good look at The Cosy Kettle. My Cosy Kettle. It’s fanciful but it seems to me that I hear the café sigh with relief.
Twenty-Three
‘Mary’s here!’ shouts Zac up the stairs. ‘Are you decent if she comes up?’
‘I am,’ I shout back from my bedroom. ‘Send her up, please. I’m all ready for my makeover.’
‘You can do it down here, if you like. I won’t get in the way.’
‘No, thanks. Up here’s fine.’
There’s no way I’m letting Zac watch as Mary transforms me with make-up from a pale, meh café manager into a glowing, party-ready sex goddess. I snigger at the very thought. Magician Mary would need a turbo-charged wand to carry out that transformation.
I hear Mary’s footsteps on the stairs before she appears in the doorway, with the biggest make-up bag I’ve ever seen. She drops it onto the bed. ‘This is a nice room, and it’s such a lovely cottage with so much history. I’ve always wanted to see what these houses are like inside.’
‘We’re happy here.’ Or at least we were. I plaster a smile on my face. ‘Thank you so much for doing this, Mary. Will you have time to get yourself ready for the party?’
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine. It won’t take long and I see you’re all ready for me. So that’s good.’ She rubs her hands together. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’
My make-up routine usually lasts two minutes. I draw black liner under my green eyes, slap on some mascara, add a touch of lipgloss, and that’s it. I’m done. But it’s going to take rather longer with Mary in charge. She pulls all manner of stuff from her bulging bag and attacks my face with gusto. She uses primer and concealer and foundation and highlighter and blusher and… so many products, I lose count. She’s frowning with c
oncentration, her tongue resting against her upper lip.
As she works, I gaze through the open curtains at the cottages opposite, which have amber lamplight glowing in their windows. Snow-heavy clouds are scudding overhead and purple hills are rolling into the distance. It’s a view that needs no tweaking, no work done, no improving. It’s perfect just the way it is.
Finally, Mary leans away from me and grins. ‘Well, that looks fabulous! Do you want to see?’ She picks up the mirror that’s propped on my chest of drawers and holds it in front of me. ‘Allow me to introduce very gorgeous and very sophisticated Rebecca.’
Wow. Gorgeous and sophisticated Rebecca looks… different. The harsh black lines beneath my eyes have been replaced with soft green liner that flicks up at the edges. My cheeks are rosy and light glints on my cheekbones which are artfully highlighted. My mouth has a cupid’s bow in the palest pink, and I’m glowing. Just like Jasmine does. It suddenly strikes me that maybe she’s merely better with a make-up bag than I am.
‘What do you think?’ asks Mary, folding her arms and looking pleased with herself.
‘I think it’s amazing. I hardly look like me at all.’
‘Yes, you do. Just an enhanced version of yourself,’ says Mary, pushing products back into her make-up bag. ‘You’ll knock ’em dead like that. Logan will be panting.’
‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate you giving up your time to help me.’
‘You’re welcome. Your hair looks fabulous, too. That hairdresser gave you a good cut. And where’s your dress? I can help you get into it without ruining your make-up.’
I open the wardrobe and Mary gasps when she spots Millicent’s silver dress glinting in the overhead light. ‘Blimey! When you said you’d borrowed a dress from Millicent, I was fearing the worst. I was going to persuade you to wear the black dress you bought when you were with me, but that is utterly marvellous. Did our Millie wear that?’
‘Apparently, a long time ago.’
‘I’d never have believed it. It’s wonderful. Slip off your dressing gown and step into it and I’ll do up the zip.’
As the dress tightens around me, I kick my bedroom door shut and stare at myself in the long mirror attached to the back of it. I already know that the dress fits me, more or less, and I know it’s amazing. I gasped when I first tried it on and almost made myself give it back to Millicent straight away. I felt like an imposter in silver sparkles, but her warning that I’d be in beige elasticated slacks before I knew it kept echoing through my mind. And it’s the kind of dress that Jasmine would wear.
‘You look unbelievably glamorous,’ breathes Mary. ‘Put your shoes on too for the full effect.’
I slip my feet into the nude stilettos and wobble slightly as I take another look in the mirror. Wow. I don’t recognise the woman who’s staring back at me, biting her lip. The dress, together with Mary’s makeover and high heels, have turned me into a different person completely. I look poised and elegant. I look an awful lot like my sister.
‘Come downstairs with me and we’ll get Zac’s verdict.’
Hanging on to Mary’s arm, so I won’t go head over heels in my stilettos, I walk stiffly down the stairs. The strapless bra needed to keep everything in the right place is horribly uncomfortable and I can’t breathe properly, but that’s a small price to pay for looking ‘unbelievably glamorous’.
‘Zac, what do you think of your housemate?’ asks Mary, standing aside as Zac, who’s sitting on the sofa with his back to us, turns around. My stomach does a flip because I feel so nervous.
‘Wow, Becca! Is that really you?’ Zac gets to his feet and walks over, never taking his eyes from my face. ‘I hardly recognised you. You look…’ he swallows, ‘absolutely amazing. And so different.’
‘Do you approve of my transformation?’
‘I’ve never seen you in a dress like this before.’ He reaches out and gently touches the silver fabric that’s shimmering over my body. ‘Crikey. How does it feel being this new you?’
‘It feels great,’ I say, confused by the frown that’s furrowing Zac’s forehead. ‘Don’t you like how I look?’
‘Yeah, of course I do. It’s just a bit of a shock – I guess I’d kind of got used to the old Becca and now you look like someone else. But you look really wonderful. Aren’t you going to freeze if you go out in the garden?’
‘Probably, seeing as I’m basically wearing a hanky while it’s almost snowing. I’ll have to hog a patio heater.’ I hold on to the back of the sofa and lean forward because my feet are killing me. ‘You do like it, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. And don’t look so worried. Come here and have a hug.’ He steps forward and opens his arms as though he’s about to pull me into them.
There’s nothing I’d like more, right now, than a hug from Zac but I’ll only smear the ton of make-up on my face, and leave him dotted with sequins. And we both have to leave for the party soon. Looking like a million dollars is not conducive to receiving hugs from handsome men. Plus, I rather fear that a hug from Zac right now will break my heart.
‘Better not,’ I say, tightly. ‘I’ll only get foundation on your shirt.’
Zac drops his arms and shrugs, a look of disappointment in his eyes.
‘I’d best get back and sort my own face out,’ says Mary, who’s picked up on the tension between us. ‘I’ll let myself out and I’ll see you both soon.’
‘Thanks, Mary, for everything.’
‘You’re welcome. Oh, you’ve got a visitor. See you later.’ She steps aside from the open front door to let Jasmine in.
‘Holy moly, is that you, Becca?’
Jasmine sashays towards me, her bright red dress clinging to every curve and her golden hair tumbling in waves down her back.
‘I can’t believe it. You look… well, you look unbelievably hot.’ Which is ironic, seeing as I’m going to freeze to death in this dress. ‘I honestly can’t believe it,’ says Jasmine again, unhelpfully. ‘And this is all for Logan’s benefit, is it?’
‘Hardly,’ I bristle. ‘This is all for me.’
And it is. Being different and more confident and more generally ‘hot’ will make me feel better about myself, won’t it?
Jasmine winks. ‘You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking of Logan when you got all glammed up.’
‘I wasn’t,’ I tell her. And I truly wasn’t. I was actually feeling like a bit of a prat as Mary layered on yet more mascara and lip liner. Zac stiffens beside me at the mention of Logan’s name.
‘Whatever.’ Jasmine walks slowly round me and smiles. ‘You’ve transformed yourself, Beccs. Congratulations.’
That’s kind of her but it strikes me as slightly bizarre that I’m congratulated for wearing an uncomfortable dress that will probably induce hypothermia before the evening is out, and for sporting so much make-up I hardly recognise myself in the mirror.
Jasmine links her arm through Zac’s. ‘You’re looking rather smart in your shirt and tie. Jeez, why is it always so cold in this spooky old cottage?’ She pulls herself close to Zac’s side for warmth and a stab of envy ricochets through my cold body. ‘Mum rang. She and Dad are on their way and she’s looking forward to the party. She sounded quite cheerful. Shall we get going, then? Your VIP French guests will be arriving in half an hour.’
‘You two go on and I’ll catch you up in a bit,’ I tell her. ‘Everything’s set up and Flora said she’d be there by six thirty so you’ll be able to get in.’
Zac disentangles himself from Jasmine and starts putting on his shoes. ‘Why don’t you come with us? You might need someone to lean on in those stilettos.’
‘I’ll be fine and I won’t be long, honest. I could just do with a few moments on my own before everything gets hectic. You go on.’
Zac allows himself to be led off by Jasmine and I close the door behind them and press my forehead against the wooden frame. What on earth is the matter with me? I’ll feel like a million dollars at the party, looking like th
is. A million confident, assertive dollars. For once in my life, people might not be surprised when I tell them Jasmine is my twin sister, my parents will view me as a grown-up professional, and Logan, the most eligible bachelor in Honeyford, will be proud to have me as his date. It’s going to be wonderful – a wish come true – so why do I feel so unutterably sad and out of sorts?
Be careful what you wish for, says the voice in my head.
I grin and kick off my hideously uncomfortable shoes.
Twenty-Four
I walk through the bookshop towards the light spilling from The Cosy Kettle, take a deep breath and adjust my underwear.
‘I thought that was you,’ says a stern voice behind me. ‘What are you doing out here? Your French guests will be arriving soon.’ A fist in the small of my back propels me into the café which smells of freshly baked cake and is glowing with fairy lights.
‘Look who I found outside,’ says Millicent, resplendent in a long caramel-coloured dress and a gold pendant. She peers at me. ‘Oh, I say. What have you done?’
‘You look amazing, Becca,’ calls Phyllis. Pieces of gold tinsel are looped around the arms of her wheelchair and she’s wearing her best dress and gold hoop earrings. ‘Is that really Millie’s sparkly dress?’
Millicent sniffs beside me. ‘It’s not Millie, as you well know, and yes it is. But that’s not the footwear I was expecting you to wear with my dress, Becca.’
‘What, these?’ I look down at my red and black Doc Martens and grin. ‘To be honest, wearing stilettos was not dissimilar to having my feet in a vice, and these feel more like me.’
‘The black tights too?’
‘I didn’t want to freeze.’
‘And what about the hair?’ She picks up a strand and rubs her fingers along it. ‘Does this colour come off?’
‘It’s sprayed on, so yes.’ I glance at myself in the shiny chrome coffee machine. Most of my hair is still golden blonde, but my fringe is a gorgeous rich shade of beautiful sapphire blue.
‘Heavens.’ Mary wanders over, looking wonderful in a short green cocktail dress with her dark hair swept up into an elegant chignon. ‘You’ve rather customised your look since I last saw you.’