Kitabı oku: «Christmas at the Little Clock House on the Green: An enchanting and warm-hearted romance full of Christmas cheer»


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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Eve Devon 2017
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available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
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ISBN: 9780008211059
Ebook Edition © September 2017
Version 2017-10-02
For Dad. For teaching your children that the world is full of amazing places and that life is for living.
‘If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad’ – Jane Austen
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1: The Grandfather of All Clock-Ups
Chapter 2: Crouching Dragon, Hidden Bartender
Chapter 3: Pity and Pitiful
Chapter 4: Think Positivi-Tea
Chapter 5: Geeks Bearing GIFs
Chapter 6: Season’s Greetings
Chapter 7: Making Cow Eyes
Chapter 8: The Art of Conversation
Chapter 9: And the Fairy-Light Dawns…
Chapter 10: Grand Designs
Chapter 11: Heart of Glass
Chapter 12: Mince Pies on the Prize
Chapter 13: The Holly (wood), and The Knightley
Chapter 14: Lights, Camera, Action: Scything!
Chapter 15: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
Chapter 16: Sleigh-Bells Ring, Are You Listening?
Chapter 17: Snow Way, Snow How
Chapter 18: A Knightley at Pemberley
Chapter 19: Moving Im-PEDI-ments
Chapter 20: Christmas Cocktails at The Clock House
Chapter 21: Bar Hygge, Bah Humbug!
Chapter 22: The Bauble’s in Your Court
Chapter 23: Nightly Haul
Chapter 24: Tour of the Roses
Chapter 25: Deck The Halls, Not Your Family
Chapter 26: Village of Stars
Chapter 27: Dashing Through The Snow…
Chapter 28: Mistletoe and Whine
Chapter 29: Pitch Perfect
Chapter 30: Miss Emma’s Feeling for Snow
Chapter 31: Readers, I Drunk-Texted Him
Chapter 32: Driving Home for Christmas
Chapter 33: Keep Calm & Jingle on
Chapter 34: ’Twas the Night Before Opening and All Through The Clock House
Chapter 35: Opening Night Fever
Chapter 36: Badly Done, Jake!
Chapter 37: Trying Hard Not to Show It
Chapter 38: Christmas Eve
Chapter 39: A Winter’s Tale
Chapter 40: On Christmas Day in the Morning
Chapter 41: The Ghost of Christmas Future
Chapter 42: A Blue, Blue, Blue Christmas
Chapter 43: The Show Must Go on
Chapter 44: The Big Finale!
Author Letter
Acknowledgements
Also by Eve Devon
About the Author
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
The Grandfather of all Clock-Ups
Kate
Kate Somersby upended the contents of her handbag over her desk and watched the hundred or so fluorescent pink post-its flutter to the surface like confetti.
Any moment now she was going to get to grips with the bullet journaling system her cousin, Juliet, raved about.
Yep … any moment now, she thought, staring down at all the vitally-important, equal-priority To Do notes that had come to her in the early hours of the morning.
In the meantime, she reasoned, her portable, flexible filing system was practically the same thing only without all the pretty panda stickers.
Shoving the roll of stickers and the actual bullet journal Juliet had gifted her into the top desk drawer, Kate pulled out her chair and plonked herself down.
It completely boggled her mind to think that a few months ago she’d been working abroad, pretending she was okay with living out of a suitcase, and now she was back in her home village of Whispers Wood, the proud owner of The Clock House and on schedule to get it open for business before Christmas. Of course, it immediately un-boggled when she thought about the insane number of hours everyone was putting in to keep them on course and ensure it was going to happen.
Hopefully by the end of the week, Juliet would have her hair-dressing stations in place for Hair @ The Clock House.
Daniel, Kate’s boyfriend, had nearly finished setting up Hive @ The Clock House, the co-working space he was going to manage, and all the treatment beds, pedi-chairs and nail station tables were arriving today for Beauty @ The Clock House, the day spa that had been her and her twin, Bea’s, dream for so long.
What do you think, Bea? Is this how you pictured all of this when we used to dream about opening our day spa in this building?
A swirl of excitement ran head-first into the wall of sorrow that was acknowledgement of Bea’s death and bounced backwards in confusion. She felt the conflict inside her like a cramp and tried to breathe through it.
And then on a shaky breath she imagined Bea snorting with laughter, and offering a ‘Hey – I’m still trying to get over the fact that you think you’ll get to grips with bullet-journaling,’ and the cramp eased.
Bea would have loved everything that was happening at The Clock House and she, Kate, was nearly used to not searching for confirmation she was doing the right thing every time she walked through the front doors.
Feeling steadier, her hands went to open the first of the letters that Sandeep, the postman, had handed her on her way in and her heart started beating faster as she stared at the official-looking envelope. Opening it, she pulled out the crisp formal headed letter paper and halfway through the first paragraph she let out a ‘Whoop’ and twirled in her chair.
They’d only been given their licence to open Cocktails & Chai in the main reception room opposite Juliet’s salon. The room with its gorgeous, gigantic chandelier was the perfect setting for a tearoom/bar.
‘Could this morning get any better?’ she laughed and immediately opened the second envelope.
‘No-el, No-el.’
‘Wowsers, Kate,’ Juliet shouted up the main staircase of The Clock House. ‘It’s a bit early to be singing Christmas carols, isn’t it?’
‘That’s singing?’ asked Oscar, Kate’s brother-in-law who, after being known as The Young Widower of Whispers Wood for years was happily getting used to now being known as Juliet’s boyfriend.
‘Someone’s really murdering that carol,’ Daniel commented as he walked into the foyer. Spying the boxes of balance ball chairs that had been delivered, he gave an excited ‘Yes’, and walked over to inspect them.
‘That someone is your girlfriend. And if she doesn’t stop I’m not sure I can be held accountable.’ Oscar pointed to the drill he was holding because he was also known as Whispers Wood’s resident builder.
‘That’s definitely not singing,’ Daniel said with a frown. ‘I’ve heard her sing. Or have I? That’s really her singing? And what’s with the carols in October? I guess I’m going to need you both to promise me you’ll never fill out an application for The Voice on her behalf.’
‘Why would we?’ Oscar asked. ‘Because that’s not singing. In fact, I’m pretty sure Will.I.Am would correctly call it Kitty-Kat Kate Caterwauling.’
‘If only she was from Wales,’ Juliet lamented, ‘she might still be in with a shot.’
‘We could move the whole of Whispers Wood to Wales and she’d still hurt ears,’ Oscar said. ‘It’s worse than when Melody went through the Frozen sing-a-long sleepover phase and I had to cope with ten five-year-olds thinking that singing mostly involved squealing high enough for dolphins to hear.’ Oscar’s daughter, Melody, had recently had her ninth birthday. She’d been only four when her mother, Bea, had died and Oscar had had to learn fast how to help his daughter through the grieving process while going through it himself.
‘Come on, guys,’ Daniel cajoled, ‘let’s cut Kate some slack. She’s under a lot of pressure to get this place ready for the grand opening.’
‘No-el, No-el.’
The three of them stared up the stairs.
‘Okay,’ Daniel said, rolling up his sleeves, ‘I might just see if I can get her to sing a different carol.’
‘Thank you,’ Juliet sighed. ‘Oscar and I appreciate you taking one for the team.’
Abandoning the yoga ball chairs, Daniel headed for the stairs. ‘Right, then. Off I go.’ He looked at Juliet and Oscar from the third step. ‘Upstairs. To gently explain …’
‘We’re right behind you,’ Juliet said, grinning as she made a shooing motion up the stairs.
Kate looked up as the man who had been rocking her world for months now stepped into her office.
He’d popped out to get himself a key cut to her place, Myrtle Cottage.
No big deal – if he’d taken her casual suggestion, and for casual, read, extremely well-rehearsed monologue, at face value.
Darn.
It would probably be better, if on his return, he didn’t then immediately see her crying.
With a big sniff she realised Oscar and Juliet were hovering in the doorway behind him. Two more excellent reasons to pull herself together. Ever since she’d come back to Whispers Wood she’d tried to show Oscar he could trust her to stick around and get involved in her niece, Melody’s, life, and Oscar had tried to show her he didn’t blame her anymore for staying away for so long after Bea had died. But maybe the person who had worked hardest to get them to see each other as family, not enemy, was sweet, kind, heart-as-big-as-a-mountain, Juliet, and the fact that Melody and Oscar looked so happy these days was testament to how much they’d fallen in love with Juliet this summer.
Looking at the three people who were helping to make The Clock House a reality, Kate felt the pressure to get everything perfect rise up and shaking her head in dismay, whimpered, ‘No-el.’
‘The angels, are in fact, genuinely crying, Katey-Did,’ Daniel said softly and then hesitated and swallowed. ‘Hang on – are you crying? What’s happened? Why are you sitting here crying Christmas carols?’
‘Not singing carols,’ she hiccupped miserably.
‘See?’ Oscar whispered to Juliet, ‘I told you that wasn’t singing.’
Kate stared at them all as she picked back up the invitation she’d opened and flapped it about manically. ‘No “L”,’ she tried again and when three faces stared back at her uncomprehending she banged her head on the desk and wailed, ‘No “L”, No “L”.’
‘Is it possible the stress of opening this place has made her regress to some sort of primitive communication?’ Oscar muttered.
Daniel took the invitation from her and began reading aloud: ‘This Christmas, you are cordially invited to the grand opening of the—’ his eyes got round. ‘Holy—’
Juliet and Oscar came to stand over his shoulder.
Kate’s head came up from the desk, pleased to have finally made herself understood.
Juliet gasped as she finished reading. ‘Oh my God, the letter “L” is missing the whole way through?’
A throaty laugh rumbled out of Oscar.
‘It’s not funny,’ Kate insisted.
‘It’s a little funny,’ Oscar said, grabbing the invitation to check for himself. ‘Cock,’ he exclaimed. ‘I love it,’ and at Juliet, Daniel and Kate’s raised eyebrows added, ‘Wait – that didn’t come out right.’
Kate snatched the invitation back from him. ‘This is going where it belongs, in the round file,’ and with dramatic flair she slam-dunked it into the bin, then, with a pout, moaned, ‘It never misses in films,’ and fishing it up from the floor, she stuck it in the bin. ‘I don’t know why you’re laughing,’ she said to Daniel. ‘Or have you always wanted to run your business out of a cock house?’
‘See when you put it like that …’ Daniel moved behind her to pluck the invitation out of the general waste and move it into the recycling bin.
‘You do realise we’re going to have to kill Crispin for this,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll need a plan on my desk by the end of the day.’
‘How about we don’t but say we did,’ Juliet offered soothingly.
Crispin Harlow, head of the Whispers Wood Residents’ Association believed whole-heartedly that it took a village to raise a village. He put the “e” in pedantic, the nosy in parker and could also be completely sweet and terribly caring, but for the purposes of allowing herself to get justifiably riled up, Kate was going to ignore that. ‘As if I have the time to sort out this kind of error. I should never have let him badger me into giving his friend the order.’
‘He didn’t badger you,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘He didn’t even needle you.’
‘Didn’t need to, did he, when he can do the whole,’ she waved her hand about wildly over her head, ‘wig-mesmerising thing.’
Another laugh rumbled out of Daniel. ‘What, you think Crispin sort of “hair-brained” you into placing the order via the magical mesmerising properties of his wig?’
‘I really do,’ she sulked, a little shocked to find herself still so close to tears. Maybe it was that she’d spent so much time thinking about the moment when all the invites went out. That excited-nervous, no-going-back, what-did-we-do-all-this-for-if-it-wasn’t-to-actually-open-our-doors-to-paying-guests moment that had seen her through all the other completely scary times this last couple of months.
‘We’ll just have to trust this guy to make the correction,’ Juliet suggested.
‘But what if he does it wrong again?’ Kate worried. ‘I don’t think Crispin and my relationship would survive it. Honestly, I think I’d rather start from scratch.’
‘I suppose we’re only losing our deposit,’ Daniel said.
‘And on the bright side,’ she ventured, feeling a little of her earlier joy creeping back in, ‘We just got our food and alcohol license … so we could add that to the invites. Even if we get the spelling corrected, Cocktails & Chai wording won’t fit on the existing invitations and what’s the betting if we correct the spelling, something else will go wrong with them. We’re cutting it close to get the invites out in time as it is.’
‘But that’s brilliant we got the licence,’ Juliet said. ‘We’re really going to add one more business to the mix, then?’
‘I think we’d be passing up a great opportunity if we didn’t,’ Daniel replied. ‘To try opening up Cocktails & Chai once we’re already open would be really disruptive. What about it, Oscar? Do you think you could finish up the building work in time?’
‘Sure,’ Oscar said. ‘It’s quiet at this time of year and I can give some of my other projects to my team for the chance to build that custom-made bar.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Kate said. ‘So now we just need someone to do the new invites, choose new card-stock, get them to the printers and then—’
‘You could always send an e-vite,’ Daniel said.
‘Actually that’s not a bad idea,’ Kate said as possibility roared to life.
‘I do have them occasionally,’ he murmured with a wry smile. ‘We could ask Jake Knightley’s sister, Sarah to design it for us.’
Kate considered. ‘So you think she’s still doing graphic design, then?’
‘She had a baby, not a lobotomy,’ Juliet laughed.
Kate’s gaze shot to Juliet. The way she’d said baby. All dreamy and … Kate’s insides did a sort of double-tuck, full lay-out, gymnastic thing. Were Juliet and Oscar thinking babies? Already? Juliet had only moved in with Oscar and Melody five minutes ago. How would she manage a new business with a baby? And Kate didn’t know anything about maternity employment law! Nervously she reached for her pile of sticky notes and then paused. Maybe she should actually check with Juliet before she immortalised or even italicised the words ‘Juliet’ and ‘Preggers???’ on neon pink.
‘So,’ Daniel said, grabbing her attention again. ‘We give Crispin’s friend of a friend the swerve and ask Sarah to design the e-vite, and we announce the opening of Cocktails & Chai along with the other businesses?’
God, he was good for her, she thought. He was never frightened of the dramatic streak that ran through her and was perfectly trusting that she knew when to let logic overrule emotion in business decisions. He totally had her back. And she’d never felt more able to be herself…
‘I love you,’ Kate said.
The words came out super-naturally considering it was the first time she’d said them, but as Daniel inhaled sharply, tears made glistening pools of her eyes, which was why she didn’t see Oscar swiftly pulling a goggle-eyed Juliet out of the room to give her and Daniel some privacy.
‘Sorry,’ Kate started babbling. ‘Totally the wrong time to drop the L-bomb. At work of all places. I couldn’t pick somewhere romantic? All the times you’ve said the words to me and I haven’t said them back. Oh—,’ she broke off as Daniel closed the distance in one easy stride, swept her up into his arms and kissed her.
As his mouth sealed across hers, a familiar buzz lit across nerve-endings and ignited to spread through her veins. As his lips rubbed, coaxed, revered, she felt more of the slippy-slidey, twisty-tangled conflict inside of her settle.
‘Wow,’ she said.
‘Wow,’ he echoed with a grin. ‘And then there’s also this,’ he held up the key he’d had cut to Myrtle Cottage.
He’d given her the key to his place, Mistletoe Cottage, weeks ago. Presented it as a point of practicality and with his matter-of-fact tone that she found so sexy, how could she refuse? Even as she’d worried exchanging keys was moving fast, she’d still taken that key and let herself in with it that night and stolen into his bed to surprise him.
Yesterday she’d found herself buying his favourite brand of bread. The one with the sixty-three different types of seeds that dropped down the grill of the toaster and worked their way into the strangest of places. The one he liked to wolf down when he returned from his morning run before he got into the shower. Before then getting back into bed with her, claiming he was the perfect wake-up call.
He was, but that was beside the point.
The point was they were leaving more and more bits of themselves at each other’s places … and, well, what did that all mean?
Only this morning she’d realised that the coat she’d been vaguely thinking of wearing today, was probably still at his place.
Had he hung it up?
Did he care that it was there?
Did he want to move in with her?
Wait! What?
This past summer had been a crazy spectacular rollercoaster of competing with Daniel for The Clock House while falling for him, hook, line and sinker. There was still so much they were finding out about each other and now – already – to be thinking about moving in together?
Kate swallowed and stepped out of his arms. It was enough they had keys to each other’s cottages.
Moving in together would be, well, three words: Way, way too soon.
Okay, that was four words, but you get what she’s thinking, right?
To cover her pounding heart, she reached for her pen and her ever-present pad of post-it notes.
She’d be totally cray-cray adding more pressure to their relationship. They hadn’t even opened The Clock House yet.
Leaning down she forced herself to concentrate on what she should really be thinking about, and proud that her handwriting didn’t show any sign of “moving-in-together” shakiness, she wrote: Find someone to manage Cocktails & Chai, and underlined it four times.
Chapter 2
Crouching Dragon, Hidden Bartender
Emma
Emma Danes blew a strand of rapidly frizzing blonde hair out of her eyes and looked on in horrid fascination at the human pretzel facing the class.
‘… And as you bend your body down to the earth,’ the yoga instructor drawled, ‘bring your palms to the floor, squeeze your triceps against your inner thighs, and tip your body forward until your feet leave the ground and your body-weight is resting on your hands.’
Um … yeah … no way was she attempting that balancing pose Emma decided as the butterflies fluttered wildly inside her. She attempted that, pee was probably going to come out!
Honestly, of all the yoga-joints in all the world, you’d think she’d have noticed that the one half a block from her apartment had a super-advanced class at eleven thirty on a Monday morning. Then again, normally at this time on a Monday she was taking an acting class.
Or at an audition.
Or knocking on her agent, Penny’s, door, calling out ‘Penny’ three times in rapid succession.
Poor Penny. She must be so over everyone going Sheldon on her.
Thinking of Penny, she stared hard at her lucky bag crocheted in raspberry, denim and sunshiny yellows that she’d casually tossed at the foot of her yoga mat.
Just imagining the phone inside ringing with the news had her heart bouncing down to her stomach and getting caught up in the excitement swirling there. It was as if she’d swallowed a giant ball of tangled-up Christmas lights and someone had plugged them in to test out the techno, techno, techno light setting.
But she’d deal with the reduced-to-jelly nerves all day long because she hadn’t got this wrong.
Today was the diem and she was going to carpe every last drop out of it.
She’d nailed the audition and the call-back. The screen-test couldn’t have gone better and all the great feedback she’d received surely meant that finally the hard work, the sacrifice, the rejection, ahem, rejections, were going to be worth it.
Planets had aligned.
Unicorns had gathered.
And after years in La La Land, Emma Danes was finally getting the lead part in the rom-com of her dreams.
Filming on location in England, here she came.
She bent her head to hide the proudly joyous grin spreading across her face and decided to attempt the yoga pose after all.
Halfway through rearranging her body she heard the buzz from her bag and looked up to see it gently vibrating. With a soft yelp, she leaped upon it and uncaring of where she was, fished the phone from out of her bag, and whispered, ‘Penny?’ into it.
‘Sugar Bean? Are you sitting down?’ There was a short silence and then, ‘I’ve just heard back and I don’t know what to tell you. I’m so sorry.’
The earth’s gravitational pull came to a clattering halt.
That was surely the only reason Emma could possibly be sinking to her yoga mat in a tangle of disbelief. It couldn’t possibly have been Penny’s greeting, her tone, her actual words or Emma’s amazing powers of deduction that was very definitely suggesting…
Emma squeezed her eyes shut.
No, no, no.
She hadn’t got the part?
Really and truly?
‘I know this wasn’t what either of us was expecting to hear,’ Penny said, her usual nasal tone enhanced now that it was laced with sympathy.
‘It’s fine,’ Emma whispered, too shocked to process how very much not fine it was as Failure danced onto the stage of her heart and took a flourishing bow.
‘I’m just as pissed as you, Pinto Bean. You were perfect for that part.’
She’d really thought so too.
Damn it.
Slowly she looked around her at the rows of exceedingly bendy people all having contorted their bodies into crouching poses with minimum effort.
She didn’t do minimum effort. She did maximum effort.
And still came up short, it seemed.
Bitter disappointment and a strange sense of embarrassment became besties, holding hands as they rushed through her veins, stealing her energy. Stealing her joy.
She held her bag out in front of her like it was poor Yorick’s skull and stared accusingly down at it. So much for being lucky.
With her phone still pinned to her ear, she pulled herself upright, shoved her feet into her shoes and then fled the yoga studio with its mirrors shamelessly reflecting her dazed expression for everyone to see.
Outside, as she made her way back to the sanctuary of her apartment, the bright sunshine, gentle breeze and ridiculously cheerful Christmas music from one of the Prius’ in the endless parade of traffic combined to mock her for daring to assume it had finally been her turn to get the big-break.
‘Did they say why?’ Emma asked, picking up her pace, eager to escape the feeling that she was being followed by one of those giant arrows with stupidly over-sized light-bulbs illuminating the words ‘Not Good Enough’.
‘Only that someone unexpected expressed interest and after reviewing her tapes, they decided to go with her.’
‘Tell me it’s a name, at least.’
‘Oh, A-lister, for sure,’ Penny stated in solidarity.
Emma let herself into the apartment she shared with two other actresses, her smile perilously close to wobbling.
‘Take a couple of days then come see me,’ Penny instructed. ‘Keep the faith, okay? There’s always traditional pilot season coming up.’
Emma supposed it was. If you discounted that it was October and that the month that signalled the start of the season was at the beginning of a whole different year to this one. Tossing her keys onto the sofa, she wandered over to stare at the fridge, aka the shrine where she and her flatmates stuck scribbled notes to each other.
Em, I got that audition and Jacinta’s on set all day otherwise we’d be here to celebrate with you. Moo Shu Pork and a bottle of cheap bubbles inside. Congrats! Lily xx
Emma sniffed.
‘Lima Bean? Are you crying? There’s no crying in baseball,’ Penny said, channelling her best Tom Hanks.
Emma opened the fridge and stared at the celebratory feast wondering how many other beans Penny could call her and with her appetite no longer amounting to a hill of them she shut the door and turned around to head into her room.
‘I don’t think I can do another pilot season, Pen.’ People probably thought it was easy to play a corpse. It wasn’t like you could get a note that you were too wooden. But do you know how hard it was to lay on concrete, caked in fake blood, staring into the distance unmoving/not breathing while the actress that actually had lines kept pausing to ask what her motivation was?
It was hard.
Especially when the actress asking about her motivation was playing a zombie!
Needless to say that pilot hadn’t been picked up.
‘Of course you can do another pilot season, Jelly Bean. This is how we do. You’re an actress. Says so on your ID, right?’
Ha!
Nope.
Actually, it didn’t.
Under the heading of occupation she tended to go with what paid her regular wages.
Bartender.
That’s what she wrote on any form that needed her to state her occupation.
Said it all, Emma thought, unable to even summon the energy to cry.
With her spirit whimpering: my moxie, my moxie, my kingdom for my moxie, she shucked her bag off her shoulder, pushed open her bedroom door, pulled back her duvet, and tired beyond all reason, climbed in to bed.
Muttering a quiet, ‘Bye Penny,’ she hung up and closed her eyes on the day that sucked harder than a sucker fish in charge of sucking clean all the Sea Life aquariums in all the world.
Chapter 3
Pity and Pitiful
Emma
Emma had no idea how long she slept for, but she awoke to a dark room and the remnants of a weird dream about fifty-seven varieties of bean auditioning for the lead part at Bar Brand – the bar she’d been working at for three years.
Pushing herself upright she reached for her phone.
Five missed calls.
None of the numbers belonged to Penny, so she guessed she knew what she could do with the absurd hope the actress the studio had decided to go with had caught a sudden case of really bad numb-tongue.
She texted her flatmates to tell them she hadn’t got the part, but that she was okay (greatest piece of text-acting ever, right there) and that neither needed to rush back because celebrating had been replaced with one of the greatest comforts known to woman: a long soak in the tub and a re-run of Pride and Prejudice.
If she dragged her armchair over to the bathroom door, piled up all her books and set up her laptop at the right angle, she could watch Darcy-Colin emerging from the lake, while she submerged her aching heart in the bath.
The next message turned out to be from her mother. With a curious detachment that belied the usual trepidation she felt when listening to messages her mother left, she got up and padded out to the kitchen to open the fridge. Her mother was on a cruise with – actually Emma didn’t want to think about what number boyfriend this was. She knew she quite liked this one though. For a start, he was age-appropriate. Fingers crossed he’d last the distance, or at least the length of the cruise, because no way could she deal with her mother having nothing else to focus on but her and how she Had Not Got The Part she might have bragged was in the bag.
Reaching into the fridge she grabbed the Moo Shu pork, a carton of noodles and the cheap champagne.
‘Hi,’ she said, turning around to greet several imaginary people, ‘so glad you could make it. Welcome to my pity party, help yourself to drink and canapés …’
Pretty convincing, she thought, as she opened a kitchen drawer to grab a pack of chopsticks. Who wouldn’t want mad-skillz like hers on the set of a rom-com?
She uncorked the bubbly, debated drinking straight from the bottle, and then put her voicemail onto speakerphone while she hunted up a glass.
‘Hi Emma, enquiring friend from across the pond is dying to know if you got the part? Can’t wait to post pics all over social media of when I knew you, back in the day.’
Emma shoved a mouthful of cold noodles into her mouth. ‘Back in the day’ had been three years ago when Kate Somersby had walked into Bar Brand to write a review of the place. It had been Emma’s first day on the job and she’d been busy acting her way through her shift, doing the whole fake-it-’til-she-made-it routine until she got familiar with everything. Emma had immediately recognised the actress in Kate. Not the showy, this-is-who-I-be kind of acting, but more the, this-is-how-I-get-through-the-days face that she showed the world.
She’d wondered what had happened to make Kate so eager to try on any other face that wasn’t her own. Plus, Kate’s British accent and it’s reminder of a home she hadn’t visited for years, had got her good. They’d become good friends, keeping each other up-to-date with their lives ever since.
Taking a gulp of fizzy wine straight from the bottle she listened to the second message from Kate:
‘Me again. Did I get the day wrong? Hope I haven’t jinxed anything. Oh, are you busy rehearsing a) a love scene b) a love scene or c) a love scene. Tick all that apply. And call me or text me or email me or send smoke signals or something because clearly our telepathic link is down.’
It was going to have to be a non-verbal communication, Emma decided, swapping phone for laptop so that she could compose better. If she had to actually use her voice, Kate was going to know right away just how devastated she was that she hadn’t got the part.
As she munched on more food she emailed:
To: Kate Somersby
From: WritingHerOscarAcceptanceSpeech
Subject: Won’t be giving up my day job after all.
I didn’t get the part
Emma xx
There, she thought, pleased with her honest, to-the-point and most importantly, no-sobbing-to-be-heard composition.
Minutes later she got a reply.
To: WritingHerOscarAcceptanceSpeech
From: Kate Somersby
Re: Won’t be giving up the day job after all.
Oh, EM, G! No coming to the UK to practise your British accent a la Renee Zelwegger??? Waaah—I’m so sorry, hun. I know how much you wanted that part. You would have been bloody brilliant. You ARE bloody brilliant.
Kate xx
Emma searched for the crying emoji and sent a whole line of them back and then immediately felt pitiful so followed it up with: Feeling sorry for myself will only last one millennia and then I’ll be all good.
Minutes later she got back:
You’ll be back to lighting up the sky-line with flames in no time, I know it! (((Hugs))) Kate xx
Tears pricked as Emma replied: Well, back to bartending at Bar Brand, at least. Rent’s due in a couple of weeks. No rest for the wicked-ly untalented. Emma xx
She was more than halfway through her food when she received her reply:
Hey, if they ever do a remake of Cocktail, Tom Cruise doesn’t stand a chance. Seriously, a better part will come along. You just have to believe (and work your arse off) but the part in brackets I know you already do, Kate xx
That produced a half-smile but then Emma flexed fingers eager to type something else. Picking up the laptop and the bottle of champagne, she headed back to her room to hop back onto the bed. After taking a thoughtful couple of gulps, she wrote: You sound like my agent, Penny. Emma’s hands paused on the keyboard and then she typed: Maybe it’s time I let the dream go! Emma, xx
She pressed ‘send’ and raised her gaze to the dressing table under the tiny window. Sitting prettily on top were various photo frames containing affirmations she’d printed out. Why didn’t looking at them spur her on the way they used to?
Over the last year, when her faith in her ability to land a good role had started slinking off to play hide and seek, Emma had seriously considered moving to New York or back to London to try the stage. She’d thought that perhaps the change of scene would herald a change of luck.
If it wasn’t for the sly fear she’d end up doing the same thing – going to audition after audition without actually getting a part – except if she moved she’d be doing it in the freezing-cold, maybe she’d even have got on that bus or plane.
She’d been in LA since age nine when her parents had divorced and her mother had taken Emma’s ‘One day I’m going to be a famous actress’ and run all the way to Hollywood with it. LA felt like home now but eighteen years was a long time to try and make it.
She’d had some successes when she was younger.
Trouble was as you got older, straddling that line between wanting more and getting desperate, was becoming increasingly harder to stay on the right side of.
At least bartending was simple, honest work. People came in to get a drink. She provided them with the drink.
Simples.
Adding a smile and lending an ear if they wanted to talk seemed like fair exchange and came easy.
The thought of finding herself in ten years time, with no good acting projects under her belt, no man in her life, no children … Her only true achievements a killer-flexible yoga body and a face that didn’t move, shook her.
If she didn’t get her big break soon she really did have to call time on this dream and go find another. One that didn’t eat away at her psyche until she ended up like her mum – hard-wired for what was over the next horizon – never enjoying what she had.
She glanced down as an email dropped into her inbox.
To:WritingHerAcceptanceSpeech
From: Kate Somersby
Subject: NOT LETTING DREAMS GO
Eat a gallon of ice-cream, down some cheap cocktails, watch a ton of tat TV in between pulling shifts at Bar Brand but then go to an Improv class, okay? Kate xx
Emma stared at the screen. Letting dreams go was something Kate actually knew about. So was not letting them go, which was why her friend had audaciously risked returning to her home village of Whispers Wood to set about making one come true. Now, not only was Kate’s dream coming true, she’d also fallen in love.
Emma reminded herself she was in love too.
With acting.
But as she reached for the bottle she wondered what would happen if she really did let the dream go?
It shocked her when she wasn’t brought to her knees by the thought.
Instead, it felt strangely as if someone was standing outside the front door to her heart and like The Walking Dead guy in Love Actually showing her large hand-written notices that said things like: ‘I’ll tell you what you want, what you really, really want …’ ‘You want Peace’, ‘Serenity’, ‘And … zigazig ha’.
With a deep breath she hit ‘reply’ and typed: Confession: I think I’ve been awful tired of this acting-gig for an awful long time now…
There!
She’d said it.
Out loud.
Well, not out loud, but you know what she means.
She waited for a reply.
Waited some more.
Maybe she shouldn’t have put that out there into the universe.
Because honestly? If she gave up acting, who was she?
Chapter 4
Think Positivi-tea
Kate
Kate stared at the screen in front of her, feeling bad for her friend, Emma. She knew what it was like to feel as if the path you’d chosen was leading nowhere. All those years she’d been footloose and fancy-free, going where the next work assignment took her and never having to really unpack – either her belongings or her feelings. Never being in one place for long had started off being something she’d needed to do but how quickly had she led herself to believe that it was something she wanted to do.
It had taken Old Man Isaac selling this place to get her to change direction and she was so thankful he had because despite feeling a tired she hadn’t known existed, it was very definitely a happy tired.
Stifling a yawn she reached over and crossed-through number twenty-seven on her To Do List.
As large hands came around her mid-riff to hug her from behind, she gasped, ‘Hey, mister. I know the owner of this establishment.’
‘So do I,’ Daniel’s voice trickled into her ear. ‘In fact I’m pretty sure I have a meeting with her in about—’
‘Thirty minutes,’ Kate smiled, spinning in her chair to face him. ‘I have this office booked until then and I’m determined to get through at least fifteen more emails.’
‘Just wanted to check how the interview went?’
Kate grimaced. ‘Complete dud.’
‘Really?’
‘Trust me.’
‘Are you sure you’re not being too …’
Kate raised an eyebrow in challenge.
‘Fussy?’ he stated bravely. ‘Only we’re running out of time to find someone to manage the place.’
Kate was very aware they needed to find someone to manage Cocktails & Chai @ The Clock House ASAP.
One of the conditions of buying the building had been to provide space the whole community could continue to use, but with the toddler group moving into the newly-built huts at the local school, that only left Trudie McTravers and her am-dram group using the communal space. Kate had promised Trudie the space would always be available for rehearsal and productions but she’d wanted to add something more.
She’d wanted everyone in the village and anyone booking a spa treatment with her, or having their hair done by Juliet, or booking office space with Daniel, to be able to grab a cuppa or a glass of fizz too and when she’d talked over her plans to add a tearoom/bar in the reception room opposite Juliet’s salon she’d been overwhelmed by how much everyone loved the idea. Of course that probably had a little something to do with socking-it-to the neighbouring village of Whispers Ford because there were still a few residents who hadn’t got over the hotel opening and the village stealing ‘Best in Bloom’ out from under them. But she’d got the go-ahead and now with the last licence coming through, it was all systems go to organise staff before they opened.
‘So what was wrong with this candidate?’ Daniel asked.
‘Besides looking twelve?’
‘I’ll admit he did look a little young, but his C.V. said he was qualified.’
‘He asked me if I’d be fact-checking his previous employment.’
Daniel mouthed the word, ‘Wow,’ and shook his head.
‘And, you know, his name was Harry Stiles,’ Kate added as if that explained everything and when Daniel looked at her as if that meant nothing, she rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t handle the disappointment when people realise the real Harry Styles hasn’t, in fact, given up his incredibly successful world tour to run a bar and tearoom in a quaint little village called Whispers Wood.’
‘You can’t not employ someone on the grounds they have a similar name to someone famous.’
‘So fortunate that he kept right on hammering in more nails, then,’ Kate replied. ‘When I asked him what he thought made him most qualified for the position, he responded with “Um, I like to drink?”.’
‘He didn’t?’
‘Oh yeah and not even “I like to drink, ha-ha, only joking, sorry that was wildly inappropriate, I’m just really nervous, here’s my actual answer,” oh no,’ Kate went on, ‘He said, “Um, I like to drink” … with a question mark at the end of it. Like he wasn’t even sure.’
Daniel rolled his eyes in sympathy. ‘Yeah. Okay. Good call.’
‘How difficult can it be to find someone who knows how to make a martini as well as they make a matcha latte or a good old-fashioned cup of tea, not to mention someone who actually likes talking with people?’
‘We have to think positive. Quick, do your thing.’
‘Thing?’
‘Your positivity rain dance, thing.’
‘Ugh. I’m too tired.’
‘Nonsense. This is important. You want the next candidate to be the one, don’t you?’
Kate gave a tired smile. ‘You do realise how dangerous it is to pander to my quirk?’
‘What can I say, I live for danger.’
Biggest fib, right there, Kate thought because while she knew Daniel thought nothing of taking calculated risks, she also knew the chaos he’d grown up with. Living for danger was not what he was about at all but she loved making him laugh and so she rose to her feet and did some over-the-top stretching motions.
‘Remember you asked for this,’ she warned and wafting her hands up and down like she was trying to take-off, she turned around in circles clockwise and then counter-clockwise chanting nonsense about positivity under her breath in a poor imitation of the dance she’d made up after one too many honey martinis had made her feel invincible. At the end of it she plonked herself back down in her chair, knackered. ‘That’s the next candidate for the job sorted, then,’ she said, trying not to worry that she didn’t actually have anyone lined up. ‘By the way, thank you for letting me book an office. Mine’s got a massage table in it that I’m certain wasn’t in there last night.’
‘So what’s the verdict on the tech?’ Daniel asked, with a nod to the set-up she was sat in front of.
Kate swung her chair back to the computer in front of her and sighed appreciatively. ‘I’m appropriately jealous. Everything up here seems higher-spec than we put in downstairs.’
‘You don’t need clients geeking-out over the I.T. downstairs. You want them sighing with pleasure over treatments. You were right to keep the set-up on the lower floors unobtrusive. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the compliment though.’
Kate grinned with pride for him.
He’d done a fantastic job of matching the aesthete of the spa and hair salon without making Hive @ The Clock House feel too girly. The attic rooms had been beautifully converted so that they now housed an open-plan area for hot-desking, a kitchen area with a long table in, and five meeting rooms with full conference facilities. The original oak flooring had been sanded and re-varnished, so that it set off the white furniture to its best. The clock mechanism had been encased in thick glass walls and formed the centre-point of the cleverly-thought-out space. Throughout, Daniel had added potted trees to soften the look. He’d married the country-chic feel of downstairs with the industrial-loft look perfectly.
‘I thought the demented pigeon dance would get rid of some of these knots,’ Daniel said, lowering his hand to her shoulders to start rubbing at the tension. ‘But you need a good massage. Smooth out some of the stress-kinks.’
Kate purred. ‘The problem with learning all these new skills is I can’t do them on myself.’ She thought of the half a dozen workbooks on her bed back at the cottage. Was she completely mad to be studying for her diploma in beauty therapy while opening her business? And, yet, she thought, taking Daniel’s advice and determinedly channelling positivity, the sooner she completed her qualification, the sooner she could add those skills to her business degree and ensure the spa ran as smoothly as possible.
Daniel leaned down to whisper in her ear, ‘Hey, you know we’ve got time until our meeting. Forget those emails. I’ve an idea or two of how we can work out some of these kinks.’
‘You have?’ Kate’s grin turned sultry as she spun around in her chair again and lifted her arms to lace around his neck. ‘Oh,’ she said as her ever-working mind remembered something else she’d written on her list. ‘I meant to ask you, don’t you think maybe we should have put in some of those standing desks up here?’
Daniel reached out and cranked a lever under the desk, laughing as the desk Kate was sat in front of, rose smoothly up into the air.
‘Wow, that’s—’
‘Impressive?’ he said knowingly. ‘Now this,’ he said picking her up with an ease that she found exciting and lowering her onto the higher surface of the desk, ‘is a much better height for what I have in mind.’
‘You mean for not putting your back out,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Practicality—’
‘Looks so sexy on you,’ she finished for him.
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, did you decide what you wanted to do about asking your mother down for Christmas?’
Daniel lifted his head. ‘Wow. Did you just ask about my mother while I was getting ready to unbutton your blouse?’
‘God, I think I did. I’m sorry. I’ve got too much stuff going on up here,’ she said pointing to her head. ‘As soon as I stop thinking about one thing, the next comes to the surface.’
Daniel tilted her jaw and rubbed the pad of his finger across her bottom lip. ‘Perhaps if I occupy these for a while, the message that you’ve got to stop stressing about absolutely everything will get through.’
She pretended to think before replying, ‘I suppose we could give your plan a go,’ and then her grin turned into a wince of regret as her phone alarm went off with another reminder that she should be doing anything else but sneaking a little time with the man that could make her heart beat crazy-fast. ‘We’ll have to wait until later.’
The pout on Daniel’s face was comical. ‘Why did I have the feeling you were going to say that?’
Kate’s mouth turned down to match Daniel’s. ‘Because I always seem to be saying that, lately? I know. It’ll get better.’
Daniel chuckled. ‘You do know it’s actually going to get worse, right?’
‘I know. But—’
‘We’ll always have after hours.’ He leaned in to kiss the hollow of her left cheekbone.
‘Yes.’ Although to be fair, with all the work they both still needed to do to ensure they opened on time, the nights were getting shorter as well.
‘My place or yours tonight?’ he asked, playfully nipping at her lower lip.
Kate hesitated and distracted him by kissing the underside of his jaw. His place was right next to hers so technically what did it matter? They both had the exact same size bed – the only ones that would fit into the size rooms their side-by-side cottages had. But hers…
She really liked waking up in hers. Liked taking comfort from being unpacked and seeing her things carelessly dotted around.
‘Mine, I think. Is that okay?’
‘Hey, I’m happy anywhere you are.’
Kate smiled. Of course if they moved in together he could be with her all the time.
‘You think we’ll still have the energy for “after hours” when we’re working even longer hours?’ Daniel asked.
‘We’d better. I refuse to let Mum and Big Kev outshine us in the romance department.’ Her mum had been seeing Big Kev who ran the corner shop for months now. Although for some reason she refused to give out the confirmation memo, so everyone still had to pretend he wasn’t romancing her after hours amongst the bakery goods. Oh, that reminded her … Kate still needed to ask her mum if she’d be interested in doing the baking for Cocktails & Chai when business slowed down at the B&B which she ran.
‘Rain-check, then?’ Daniel asked.
‘Til tonight.’
‘Tonight. Your place. And to tide us over—’
‘Kate, you up here? Oops. Sorry,’ Juliet apologised as she reached the top of the stairs and spied them mid-clinch.
‘Don’t be silly. It’s fine,’ Kate assured.
Daniel cleared his throat and smiled. ‘Kate and I were just testing out the system.’
‘Right,’ Juliet gave a knowing nod. ‘Oscar and I need to do some of that.’ A blush formed across her cheeks. ‘Not your systems, obviously. What I meant was—’
Kate grinned. ‘What you meant was that you’re both feeling the strain of working long hours and hardly ever seeing each other, as well.’
When Oscar had discovered, this summer, Juliet’s plans to work so closely with Kate, he’d gone into full protective mode, making it impossible for Juliet to hide her feelings for him. The sparks between them had got the whole of Whispers Wood noticing and even though Juliet had moved out of her beloved bijou Wren Cottage and into the barn that Oscar had converted within weeks of them finally getting together, Kate was willing to bet that between Juliet setting up her salon and Oscar finishing up all the building renovations around here, they probably hardly got to see each other outside of work, either.
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