Читать книгу A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews - Annie Darling - Страница 12

The next day, November 30th, after the shop had closed at six, even though it was meant to be the start of their new extended opening hours, Mattie’s presence was requested at the Happy Ever After Christmas brainstorm.

She was meant to be there by five past six sharp, but the final versions of her speciality Christmas savoury and sweet items had taken a bit longer to bake than she’d planned for. Not that Posy would mind. Mattie always turned up to a brainstorm with freshly baked provisions and anyway, it didn’t sound as if Mattie had been missed.

She’d been able to hear the shouting all the way from the main room of the shop through the Classics, Regency, Historical and Paranormal anterooms, across the tearooms and into the back kitchen. Now, as she carried her precious cargo through, Posy’s voice was pitched so high with excitement that Mattie feared for her glass cake tiers.

‘I love it!’ Posy squealed, writing something down on the inevitable flipchart as Mattie reached the main room. ‘Love it so much. Very, you’re a genius.’

Verity was perched on one of the sofas, hugging a cushion (being an introvert, the loud and raucous Happy Ever After brainstorms were quite the ordeal for her). ‘I try,’ she said modestly.

‘What have I missed?’ Mattie asked, putting down her tiered plates on one of the new-releases tables.

‘So much Christmas book-related goodness,’ Posy said. In the past few days, her bump had got even bigger and rounder – Nina had wondered aloud if it might be twins – but Sebastian had booked her a course of pregnancy massage sessions, which had restored her good cheer and done wonders for her swollen ankles. ‘We’re all coming in early tomorrow to Christmas-ify the shop. Crispin from the Rochester Street Traders’ Association came by this afternoon and he had some quite harsh things to say about our complete lack of decorations. I wanted to strangle him with a length of tinsel by the time he left.’

‘We’ve decided to go for a very tasteful, almost understated, look with the decorations though,’ Verity said.

‘No we haven’t,’ Nina insisted forcefully. ‘Last year, we didn’t really embrace Christmas, so this year I want it to look as if Christmas has vomited all over the shop.’

‘Such a lovely and festive image,’ Tom murmured, echoing Mattie’s own thoughts. ‘The only idea that I actually like is Verity’s suggestion that we have a selection of wrapped books under the Christmas tree—’

‘You’re having a Christmas tree?’ Mattie asked. Last year there hadn’t been a Christmas tree, just industrial amounts of tinsel and fake snow, which had got everywhere. She’d even found fake snow in her bra when she took it off each night.

‘Of course we’re having a Christmas tree. It’s arriving tomorrow,’ said Sam, Posy’s sixteen-year-old brother, from behind his fringe. He helped out on Saturdays and in the school holidays, while Little Sophie (though they really had to stop calling her Little Sophie because she now towered over Verity and Posy) also worked on Saturdays but in the tearooms. ‘We’re going to move out two of the sofas.’

This was also news. Obviously they were anticipating a lot of foot traffic over the next month.

‘So, tree, presents …’ Mattie prompted, because the other notable thing about Happy Ever After brainstorms, apart from the noise levels, was how quickly they got off-topic.

‘Yes! Presents,’ Posy nodded. ‘Customers can choose to pay for an extra book which we’ll distribute to residents at the care home around the back of Coram Fields. Nina went in to see them yesterday.’

‘Big fans of Regency smut,’ Nina reported from her sofa, which she was sharing with Tom, who had barely glanced in Mattie’s direction, though he was eyeing up her cake tiers avidly.

‘Sounds good,’ Mattie said. ‘I’d have to look at costings, but maybe if they donate a book then they can have a free cup of coffee. What else?’

‘Well, that brings me nicely to my next idea,’ Nina said, glancing down at her iPad. ‘I was looking for a way to create a synergy between the bricks and mortar and the social media side of the business. Really grow our brand awareness and core message.’

‘Eh?’ Posy asked, and she spoke for all of them. Noah and his business analysing skills were obviously rubbing off on Nina if she was bandying about words like ‘synergy’ and ‘brand awareness’.

‘It’s not just about driving customers to spend shedloads of money in Happy Ever After over the festive season,’ Nina exclaimed.

‘But it’s a lot to do with that,’ Verity said firmly. ‘Last year we took twenty-three per cent of our annual profit just in December. So, let’s make the spending of shedloads of money our top priority.’

‘Yes, but we also want those customers to understand what Happy Ever After is and we want to give them an experience that delivers our brand message,’ Nina insisted.

‘It’s like I don’t even know you any more.’ Sam directed a sad look at Nina. ‘Could you please make a completely inappropriate and deeply personal remark?’

‘I’m building up to something, guys,’ Nina said.

Tom groaned and splayed out his legs like he was in mortal agony. ‘Sometime before next Christmas would be great.’

There were murmurs of agreement at this. Mattie really wished that she’d given it another half hour before she’d come through. She could have made her flaky pastry for tomorrow and had it chilling in the fridge.

‘You are a tough crowd,’ Nina said cheerfully. ‘What I was building up to … can I at least get a drumroll?’

‘Kill me now and the last beats of my heart can be your drumroll,’ Tom said. He was in quite the snipey mood tonight, Mattie noted, as Little Sophie and Sam obligingly stamped their feet.

‘I’m talking about a Mistletoe Photo Booth!’ Nina said with a flourish. ‘We’re going to hire a special photo booth and people, only on receipt of a Happy Ever After purchase, can go into the booth with the one they love and take a picture smooching under the mistletoe. They’ll also get a digital download of their picture, which they can upload to their social media accounts. How exciting!’

‘A photo booth? Won’t that take up a lot of space?’ Posy wondered.

‘Not if we’re going to take out two of the sofas anyway. Besides, photo booths don’t take up that much room.’

‘Sounds expensive.’ Verity looked pained at the prospect of extra expense.

‘Not that expensive. I’ve already spoken to the guy who handles the account and given him all the Happy Ever After artwork, because the booth and the pictures will all be heavily branded. Anyway, you have to spend money to make money, so I said that you’d send him the deposit by tomorrow, Very,’ Nina said briskly. ‘Lots of people want one of these booths but we decided that it works best with the Happy Ever After brand. Because mistletoe equals kissing and we’re a romantic fiction bookshop. Come on! Let’s get excited about this! Whoo!’ Nina punched the air.

‘Maybe whoo …’ Posy tapped her chin with her magic marker as she thought about the possible benefits of the Mistletoe Booth. ‘It’s quite sweet, really, isn’t it? We get all these men looking put upon as their partners browse our shelves, but they’d soon cheer up if they were pulled into a photo booth for a sudden kiss.’

As far as Mattie was concerned, the whole thing: mistletoe, public displays of affection, pulling people into a small dark enclosed space, was ghastly.

‘You do know that kissing someone without their consent, even if there is mistletoe involved, technically counts as an assault?’ she pointed out and watched in satisfaction as jaws dropped.

‘Oh no, we can’t have any assaults in the shop. Absolutely not,’ Posy said, aghast.

‘Unless … well, maybe we could get people to sign a consent form,’ Verity suggested, but Nina was flapping her hands and screwing up her face in protest.

‘Nobody likes a Scrooge, Mattie,’ she said censoriously. ‘Happy Ever After customers love romance, so obviously they’re going to love a passionate smooch under the mistletoe. Jesus, don’t be such a buzzkill.’

‘Well, I hate to be another voice of dissent,’ Tom said, though actually being the voice of dissent was one of his reasons for living. ‘But if this monstrosity comes to pass, I’m not having anything to do with it. I don’t want our older ladies getting ideas. You know, sometimes I think they ask me to climb up the rolling ladder to get books down from the top shelves solely so they can ogle me.’

Mattie couldn’t help snorting. ‘Ha! Who’d want to ogle you?’ It came out much harsher than she intended, and all those present turned to give her a hard-eyed stare.

‘We’ll move on from the Mistletoe Booth for now,’ Posy decided wisely. ‘Verity will need to see a full breakdown of the figures and I need to know exactly how it’s going to work, because it’s all sounding a bit complicated to me. Now, Tom, I can’t wait to hear about all the exciting things you have planned for the shop Twitter in the run-up to Christmas.’

‘I’ve reworked the Twelve Days of Christmas with a romance theme and I’ll tweet a line a day, starting on the thirteenth of December,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘Oh yes, there’ll be all manner of festive hi-jinks. Our favourite Christmas romance novels, one of those stupid Twitter hashtag games where we replace a word in a book title to make it more Christmassy. Like, Pride and Presents, To Thrill a Mockingbird, Me Before Yuletide, blah blah blah, we can give the best ones a prize. Then obviously we’ll have a new Twitter avatar, where the picture of the shop sign we currently have will be adorned with fat robins gaily cavorting. Et cetera and so on.’ He finished up with his weariest sigh yet.

‘Oh my God, Tom! That would all be fantastic,’ Posy said, struggling to write all Tom’s ideas down on her flipchart. ‘I don’t know why you sound like you’re being tortured beyond all measure.’

‘Because the stench of rampant commercialisation makes me sick to my stomach,’ Tom said, and Mattie could just tell that he was about to go into one of his rants about the dangers of capitalism or neo-liberalism or some otherism that he didn’t like. There’d also be lots of multi-syllable words that no one else understood.

‘Dude, if you don’t like rampant commercialisation then don’t work in retail,’ Nina drawled, but Tom wasn’t to be put off.

‘Christmas is just an excuse for people to spend money they don’t have on presents for people who don’t actually need them, all in the spurious name of Jesus,’ he pontificated. ‘And I think you’ll find that actually, according to Aramaic texts, Jesus wasn’t even born in December but on a date in the Hebrew calendar that actually corresponds to September. So, if we’re going to be picky about it …’

‘Oh yes, do let’s be picky about it,’ Little Sophie murmured to Sam, and they exchanged an eye roll so exaggerated and scathing that it could only have come from two sixteen-year-olds already tested way beyond their boredom threshold.

‘… I mean, really, is one Christmas-themed tweet, in all its banality, going to sell books or is it simply going to be part of the problem …?’

Mattie wriggled her right leg because her calf was cramping. Was anyone even listening to Tom? Judging from their glazed expressions, Nina scrutinising her fingernails for any signs of chipped polish, Posy shifting uncomfortably because she’d been on her feet for too long, Verity gazing into the middle distance, then no. Everyone had stopped listening. Had stopped caring. Had stopped having the will to live.

Someone needed to step up and rescue them and it looked like Mattie was going to be that person. ‘Please, I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she fibbed. ‘It’s just that I have some dough proving that I really need to get back to.’

‘I wasn’t finished,’ Tom snapped, but Mattie had delicious festive-themed snacks so she was going to win.

‘Anyway, let’s talk about my Christmas bakes,’ she said, leaning forward with her cake tiers aloft. It was quite gratifying the way that everyone perked up, except Tom, who shot her a look that was blacker than a coalmine in a power-cut. She held up the left-hand tier. ‘These are my savouries. Vegan friendly, individual red cabbage and Brussels sprout tarts, turkey and cranberry Scotch eggs and, instead of my usual sausage roll, for Christmas I’m doing a pig-in-blanket roll. A pork and sage sausage wrapped in home-cured bacon and encased in puff pastry. Here, help yourselves!’

‘Truly, we are living in miraculous times,’ Nina mumbled around the end of a pig-in-blanket roll. ‘This is one of the three best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.’

‘These Scotch eggs, I don’t care if they give me heartburn, it will all have been worth it,’ Posy said and Mattie smiled modestly, though her smile became very thin when she saw Tom taking one of her vegan tartlets and giving it a suspicious look.

‘Then for my sweet selection,’ she held the right-hand tier aloft, ‘I’m doing miniature salted caramel Yule logs, mince pies with a clementine-infused pastry and what look like little Christmas puddings but actually they’re red velvet cake balls,’ Mattie explained, sending her sweet treats round the sofas again. ‘Then throughout December, I’ll also have additional items. For instance, cranberry and orange flavoured shortbread and Christmas spiced buns.’

Again, there was lots of praise and moans of ecstasy and Verity declaring that she hated all mince pies except for Mattie’s mince pies.

‘Good, so glad was all sorted,’ Mattie said, gathering up her empty tiers. ‘We can get some shots up on the Happy Ever After insta and also, Verity, mulled wine, we don’t need an alcohol license for that, do we?’

‘We kind of do,’ Verity said unhappily because she’d have to be the one to sort it out. Anyway, Mattie’s contribution to the Christmas brainstorm was done.

She turned to leave but Posy’s voice called her back.

‘What about cupcakes?’ she asked in an innocent voice, though she knew full well Mattie’s feelings about cupcakes. ‘Go on. One Christmas-themed cupcake. For me. Because I’m pregnant.’

‘I don’t do cupcakes,’ Mattie reminded her, as she’d been reminding Posy at regular intervals ever since she’d first signed the lease on the tearooms. ‘Cupcakes are a triumph of buttercream over bland sponge and they represent everything that is repugnant about a regressive representation of femininity and God, Posy, I’ve given you a whole other selection of Christmas-themed goodies, so stop going on about bloody cupcakes.’

Posy wilted and rubbed her bump in a forlorn manner – Mattie was a terrible person who said mean things to pregnant ladies. ‘I was only asking,’ Posy said in a tiny voice.

‘I know.’ It was no use, Mattie’s blood was up and all this talk about Christmas and now cupcakes was making the red mist descend in a way that it hadn’t for ages. ‘It’s just, you know, I hate cupcakes and I really don’t like Christmas either, so can we just drop it, please?’

‘Consider it dropped,’ Posy said, though she was sounding rather sulky now.

‘Sorry,’ Mattie offered weakly.

‘You’re such an Eeyore,’ Verity said, her face red with the effort it took to confront someone. ‘Honestly, Mattie, you seem to hate so many things, but I’m at a loss to know what you really love.’

‘I love lots of things,’ Mattie protested, though she couldn’t think of a single one when she was put on the spot like this. ‘Lots and lots of things.’

‘Very’s right,’ Posy said, abandoning her flipchart to sink gratefully onto the sofa next to Verity. ‘You’re so negative about everything. You don’t like romance, you don’t like Paris, or Christmas, or cupcakes. What else is there in life but romance and Paris and Christmas and cupcakes?’

‘I have my reasons,’ Mattie said, because she did, and they were no business of anyone gathered on the sofas in front of her. Also, though she was proud to proclaim the tearooms as a sovereign state within the Happy Ever After continent, Mattie often felt like she was speaking a foreign language when she was dealing with the Happy Ever After staff. They always made her welcome, invited her along to the pub, but they’d all known each other for years, had a deep, complex, shared history and a love of romantic novels, so it was no wonder that Mattie sometimes felt as if she was on the outside looking in.

But at this precise moment in time she felt like an enemy alien. Misunderstood and mistrusted.

‘Come on, people, let’s not fight,’ Nina said in a jolly, very un-Nina-like voice. ‘It’s meant to be the season of goodwill and all that, so let’s not fall out over the fact that Mattie hates the season of goodwill.’

Tom had been silent, for which Mattie was grateful, if somewhat surprised that he wasn’t chiming in with his own observations on how she was a Christmas killjoy who despised all that was good in the world. Now he stretched out his legs again. ‘I think you’ll find that I hated the season of goodwill first and Mattie is just jumping on my bandwagon.’

Was that … was Tom actually attempting to take Mattie out of the line of fire, or was he genuinely cross that Mattie’s Christmas-hating was getting all the attention? As usual with Tom, it was impossible to tell.

‘I have that dough proving,’ Mattie said stiffly, though that mythical dough would have proved so much by now that it would have colonised most of the kitchen. ‘And FYI, I like lots of things, including kneading dough.’ Mostly because she could work out all her aggression about the many things she hated while she was kneading it.

There was nothing left to say and the atmosphere was so deflated and awkward that Mattie couldn’t wait to hurry back to the safe space of her kitchen. She was just stepping through from Classics to Regency when she heard Nina, who didn’t possess an indoor voice, say, ‘I don’t know why you and Mattie are at each other’s throats all the time, Tom, when you have so much in common.’

‘We have nothing in common,’ Tom said, though Mattie had to strain to hear him.

‘You both hate Christmas and romantic novels,’ Posy piped up.

‘I don’t hate romantic novels, I just never ever want to read one …’

‘Tom and Mattie sitting in a tree, talking about how much they hate Christmas and K.I.S.S.I.N.G.,’ Nina chanted, and there were giggles and snorts from the cheap seats.

Tom huffed with great disdain. ‘The day I K.I.S.S. Mattie is the day that Satan goes to work on ice skates.’