Page 72 of The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street
She had accepted what Amos had said to her, why wouldn’t she? He had no reason to lie. It was a simple mistake; unfortunate, but not the end of the world. It explained perfectly how Kit had found out about her jewellery, and yet Kit had chosen not to tell her how it had come about. It was the one thing that she could have understood, the one thing that could have made things right between them. But instead he had refused to tell her how he knew. And that she just couldn’t understand.
But that wasn’t the only thing, because now she knew that on the night she had finished making the first of her Christmas gifts, Kit had been walking the towpath outside her cottage. He had been standing on her path talking to Robin, and yet she had never known he was there. So why was he? But she already knew the answer. Kit had been there because he had been checking on her, making sure she was safe. She stared at Robin’s present for a moment before ripping off the bright wrapping. The sob burst from her lips even before she glimpsed the pastel colours inside, before she even smelled the distinctive aroma. She knew exactly what it was. A box of macarons. How could she ever have thought Kit had cheated?
24
Tuesday 24th December
One shopping day until Christmas
The man beamed at Daisy. ‘I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been an absolute lifesaver.’
She smiled back. ‘You’re very welcome,’ she replied. ‘And I’m sure your wife will love her present. Happy Christmas.’ She held the shop door open, giving a little wave as the man disappeared from sight.
‘Now thatwascutting it fine,’ said Bertie. ‘And skilfully done, Daisy,’ he added.
‘Although to be fair, given the lateness of the hour, he probably would have bought anything.’ Lawrence’s smile was tight.
She frowned. ‘Which was exactly why I didn’t just sell him anything,’ she replied. ‘Because he would have left the shop with a nasty taste in his mouth, knowing he’d just been fleeced and would never come back.’
Kit moved to stand beside her and turned the sign on the door to closed. ‘She has a point, Lawrence,’ he said breezily.
Lawrence scowled.
‘Children, children…’ said Bea, tutting in mock consternation. ‘Today of all days, let’s find a little Christmas spirit.’
The atmosphere in the shop suddenly became serious. It was two o’clock and all morning they had been busy, although mostly with folks popping in to wish them the compliments of the season rather than last-minute customers. It was tradition at Buchanans to serve mulled wine and refreshments during the morning until the shop closed early afternoon. Afterwards Bea would say a few words, thank everyone for another, hopefully, successful year, and present her Christmas gift to Daisy. There would be more wine, which Daisy never drank, and party food, which Daisy rarely ate, but it never mattered. Unlike the majority of shops, Buchanans didn’t open on Boxing Day, or the two days following that, so there were always four days off to be savoured and to Daisy it had always felt like the end of term before the long summer holidays, full of delicious anticipation for the days ahead.
Today, however, was obviously rather different from the norm and that in itself made Daisy feel edgy and out of sorts. Christmas Eve at Buchanans had been part of her festive-season traditions for a very long time and she hated having this taken away from her. It was as if someone had died. Kit and Bertie had done their best to keep things light-hearted, even though Kit must have been feeling dreadful too, but Lawrence had spent most of the morning seemingly inspecting things. Whether he found them to be lacking in something, Daisy didn’t care. She just wished he wasn’t there. She hadn’t heard from Nick either, and that only made things worse. Lost in thought, it took a moment for her to realise that Bea was speaking again.
‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘You all look like you’re waiting to hear if the patient is dead or alive.’
‘Look, can we just get this over with,’ replied Lawrence. ‘It’s pointless trying to pretend that there’s anything nice about all this. So why don’t we all cut the fake bonhomie and seasonal good cheer and get down to business. We all know it’s the end of an era, Mother, so let’s find out who lives or dies.’
Daisy swallowed. There was an element of truth in what Lawrence had said, but why did he always have to be so confrontational? She had expected Bea to become somewhat flustered by his remark, but she was surprised at the force with which Bea’s reply came out.
‘You really haven’t learned a thing, have you?’ she said, pinning him with a ferocious stare. ‘This is not about endings at all, Lawrence, but about beginnings.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘And I am disappointed, but sadly not surprised, that you haven’t figured that out yet.’
What on earth did Bea mean? Daisy shot a look at Lawrence, who looked like he was chewing a live wire, and then glanced at Kit, who was actually smiling and, worse, staring straight at her. She looked away, dropping her eyes to the floor, her cheeks aflame. Oh, this was horrible.
‘Perhaps we had better, erm, make a start,’ suggested Bertie. ‘It is a little nerve-wracking, and poor Daisy looks like she might pass out.’
‘I agree,’ replied Bea, smiling at Daisy with twinkling eyes. ‘But we will do this with dignity and grace, or not at all. So, let’s do as we always have and drink a toast to the year and have a little celebration of our efforts and achievements.’
She led the way through into the back room, where she had been disappearing all morning to lay out plates of food. Daisy didn’t think she could eat a thing.
‘Daisy,’ said Kit quietly. ‘Can I get you something? There’s some non-alcoholic mulled wine.’
She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘I might just have some water, if that’s okay.’ But she was touched that he had acknowledged she didn’t drink alcohol.
‘And something to eat?’ Bertie was hovering with a plate. ‘I know you like these.’
She glanced at his offering, eyes widening when she saw what he had put together for her. The plate was filled with the tiny pastries she had eaten at the Altitude Bar, some of the pretzels, and spiced cashews too. Someone, and she suspected she knew who, had also added some macarons to the plate. She gave a weak smile and took it, trying to remind herself that she liked these things.
A few minutes later, glasses were charged and an expectant hush descended once more.
‘Well, another year is almost over,’ said Bea. ‘And another Christmas at Buchanans has also come to an end. I know you have all the figures, Bertie, and it’s not been as bad a year as I feared, despite certain challenges faced by the retail industry in general. However, I don’t think I’d be telling you anything you didn’t already know if I said that things will need to change at Buchanans if it is to survive. And now the time has come to find out how. Before we start with the judging of the competition though, I would just like to say my own thank you to Daisy, for everything you have done to put Buchanans first. Your loyalty and devotion to me and Buchanans has never been in question and without that and your unstinting hard work, I truly don’t believe we would be in the position we are in now.’ She raised her glass. ‘To Daisy, may you have the happiest of Christmases…’
She blushed, just as she always did. Bea’s speech hardly ever varied, the odd word here or there, but essentially it was the same every Christmas Eve. But she meant it and Daisy was always incredibly grateful. She received Bea’s warm hug gladly, knowing that it was likely to be one of the last she received from her. She was just about to pull away, when Bea gripped both her arms and gave her another squeeze. Her eyes were shining as she laid a hand against Daisy’s cheek.
