Page 8 of The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street
‘Does anybody have any questions?’ asked Bea. ‘Because if you do, ask them now. Other than what I have just told you, there are no further rules and any other considerations will be yours alone. So, to recap – one item of jewellery – five thousand pounds – and the perfect gift. Do all that and the business will be yours. Your gifts should be presented to Daisy at our normal celebrations on Christmas Eve.’
‘Butyouget to choose which is the best gift, and not Daisy herself?’ asked Kit. ‘How is that fair? Shouldn’t she choose?’
Daisy looked between the two of them, horrified at the thought, but, to her relief, Bea simply smiled. ‘No, because I shall be asking Daisy to help all of you as it is, and to make the poor girl have the final say would just be too much. I don’t want anything to be more difficult than it already is.’
‘But none of us really know Daisy that well,’ said Kit, frowning.
‘Then I suggest you get to know her,’ replied Bea. ‘You have between now and Christmas Eve.’
She looked at her sons in turn. ‘Now, does anyone have any questions? Because if not, I really think we ought to let Daisy get home for the evening.’
Daisy daren’t even look at anyone. She didn’t need to, the air surrounding them was bristling with simmering anger and indignation. An atmosphere that Bea seemed utterly unaware of.
‘I have a question,’ said Lawrence, his deep voice loud in the hushed room.
‘Yes, dear.’
‘I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that this evening’s… turn of events has been rather a surprise. I can understand you wanting to retire, Mother. I can accept, just about, your relationship with someone we know nothing of, but what I find utterly bizarre is this rather childish competition. To pass over the running of Buchanans based on something akin to a parlour game seems foolhardy and completely unfair. Surely having us put forward a proper business plan together with financial forecasts would be a far better way of ascertaining who is fit to run the company?’
Bea fixed him with a steely look. ‘I can see how that might favour you, Lawrence, but perhaps your brothers, less so… And I have made up my mind about this. You each should have a fair and equal chance of winning and I believe my solution provides this. Assuming of course that each of you wishes to enter the competition; there is no rule to say you have to…’
She held Lawrence’s look for a moment and, although he glared at her, it was clear he had nothing more to say. The thoughts in Daisy’s head were rushing around at a breathless pace and she was having enormous trouble trying to catch hold of one for long enough to listen to it. But what would happen to her was not her only worry right now. What did Bea mean when she said the brothers should get to know her? Daisy had no desire to know them any better than she did now. And as for having to ever work with Lawrence… She shook her head. No, she couldn’t bear to even think about it. She had a sudden urge to run, to get as far away from the shop as she could. To return to the quiet calm and order of her little cottage.
As if reading her thoughts, Bea moved forward and swept Daisy into a hug.
‘Now, you must go home, my dear. It’s your day off tomorrow which will give everyone a chance to settle down and then the day after, well, the fun can really begin! Oh, I do so love Christmas.’ She looked around her. ‘I can’t believe that this is going to be my last one here, but I know you’ll do everything you can to make it extra special, Daisy. I’ve always been able to rely on you.’
Daisy looked about her, speechless. Did Bea even know what she’d done? How could she do that to her when Bea had been the one to save her all those years ago? If it hadn’t been for her… Daisy shuddered to think what would have happened. She felt utterly disconnected from everything, as if she’d been cast adrift.
Mistaking her silence for indecision, Bea gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And you don’t need to worry about closing up. We can take care of that tonight. It’s the least we can do, isn’t it, boys? And have a lovely day tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear all about it.’
Moments later, having collected her coat and bag, Daisy found herself standing outside the front door of the shop, feeling rather lost. She took a step forward, looking about her, surprised to find that the world was still turning, that people were still bustling about their business, and that the huge tree in the square opposite was still sparkling with coloured lights.
She pulled her coat more firmly around her, tilting her head and blinking as something cold landed on her eyelash. Looking up into the sky she could see the first soft flakes of snow drifting down, their shapes illuminated under the glow of the street lamp. The windows of the shops around her twinkled with lights and, just across the street, the market was alive with sounds and smells as the traders packed up for the day, their stalls still gathering crowds.
Daisy watched for a few moments, transfixed by such ordinariness; a scene that she had seen hundreds of times over and yet which this evening seemed to hold such poignancy. It was nearly Christmas; a time of goodwill and good cheer and she was usually its biggest fan. Except that this year it seemed as if everyone had started the festivities without her.
3
Friday 6th December
Nineteen shopping days until Christmas
Daisy already knew where to find Hope Corner Farm. She had seen an advertisement for it a few months ago in the local paper’s wedding pages and, since a flower farm sounded like the most beautiful place on earth, she’d driven over to take a look.
Daisy hadn’t been disappointed. One of the lovely owners had shown her around, explaining that they hadn’t been open for long and not everything they planned was up and running yet, but she’d let Daisy have a look at the field where the flowers were growing in neat rows, bursting with blooms. The owner had also let her take home a huge bouquet for a fraction of the price that it would have cost her elsewhere. ‘Hope Blooms’, they called themselves, and Daisy had smiled at the pun. If she ever got married, she would like to come back and order her wedding flowers from the owner, who funnily enough was called Flora.
Today she was on her way there to learn how to make seasonal decorations, but it had been all she could do to drag herself out of bed. She hadn’t slept at all well and her head was muzzy from lack of sleep and unshed tears. She had seen the course advertised a few weeks ago and had booked it straight away in a surge of Christmassy enthusiasm, but the thought was laughable now.
She had tried to think logically about Bea’s decision last night but, try as she might, she still felt incredibly hurt. Bea had given her the job shortly after she’d left school and they’d hit it off immediately, despite Daisy’s shyness and Bea’s very individual personality. A year turned into two, and then three, and now she had been at Buchanans coming up to eight years.
Daisy had been just as shocked as any of the brothers to learn of Bea’s romance and impending retirement, even though she knew that her boss often did things just because she considered them outlandish and wanted to shock people. More than once Bea had hinted that good things were in the pipeline for Daisy’s future at the shop, but now the time had come and all Bea wanted was for her to act as referee between her three sons, one of whom Daisy would ultimately end up working for. That’s if she even had a job at the end of it all. With Bea leaving and the business failing, it didn’t take a genius to work out what would probably happen. It was every man for himself, and that clearly didn’t include Daisy.
There were another couple of cars already parked at the farm by the time Daisy pulled up in front of the gates, but there was still fifteen minutes to go until the course started. She clenched her fingers into her palms and, inhaling deeply, reminded herself why she was here. Buchanans could wait until tomorrow, otherwise the day off Daisy had so been looking forward to would be a waste. Pulling herself together, she climbed hesitantly from the warmth of her car and looked out across the yard in front of her.
Almost immediately Daisy spotted a tall woman coming towards her, her face lit by a warm smile of greeting. It wasn’t the same person who had shown her round before, but someone at least twenty years older, wearing jeans and a thick red jumper. Hardly the riot of clashing colour and pattern that Flora had worn, but it suited the woman’s tumble of long grey hair and brown eyes. The smile grew even wider as she drew near.
‘Hello,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘I’m Grace. Are you here for the course?’
