Читать книгу Christmas at the Dancing Duck - Daisy James - Страница 13

Chapter 5

‘Kirstie! Ah, I’m so pleased to see you!’ squeaked Emma, rushing out from behind the polished mahogany bar, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

Despite not having seen her since she’d been down to Cranbury to visit her sister after Ethan was born, Kirstie felt like she had only just left her best friend and fellow teenage conspirator the previous week.

‘Emma, you look amazing! I love what you’ve done to your hair, and is that one of your new necklace designs? I love it!’

Kirstie feasted her eyes on her friend, taking in the wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair, which now sported a pale pink streak through the fringe. She had always envied Emma’s courage in experimenting with her appearance, although she didn’t know what Brad would say if she turned up for filming one morning with pink highlights, never mind Lionel who thought pierced ears were deplorable.

A spasm of resentment shot through her chest as she thought of Flora, the person Lionel had replaced her with as a special guest presenter for the Christmas kitchen episodes.

Flora Swift was a fabulous chef and Kirstie knew she would do a great job, but that was also what she was worried about. What if Lionel decided to make her short, temporary stint, more permanent? She determined to spend the whole two weeks of her enforced exile researching the best new year recipes for a healthy and fat-free lifestyle. She already had a few ideas swirling around her head and just needed to spend some quiet time jotting them down and expanding them.

‘Well …’ Emma was holding out her delicate silver and jet necklace for Kirstie to inspect more closely, mischief playing around her eyes ‘… if you like it, and you’re on Santa’s “Nice” list, you might just find one in your Christmas stocking this year.’

‘It’s gorgeous, but then everything you design is gorgeous. You’re so talented, Em. How’s Bijoux Baubles going?’

‘Just secured an order to stock the hotel gift shop up at Craiglea Hall and I’ve been commissioned to design a couple of wedding tiaras and matching necklace, bracelet, and earring sets. But enough about me. What on earth possessed you to …’

When Emma noticed the expression on Kirstie’s face she clamped her mouth shut, pursing her lips theatrically. Both girls cast a look over to where Josh was busy pulling pints, completely at home behind the bar. A group of regulars laughed at something he said, then they all turned in unison to send quizzical looks in Kirstie’s direction. She groaned inwardly as a blast of heat rose into her cheeks. She suddenly felt exposed, as though she was standing in the bar of her childhood home stark naked.

‘Sorry, Em. I just need to …’

She grabbed her bag, which Josh had abandoned in the middle of the room, and dashed up the stairs to the flat where Olivia, Harry, and Ethan lived, Emma following in her wake. When she had ditched her luggage in the spare room, she returned to the tiny kitchen, which her sister had redecorated in pastel pinks, mints, and baby blues and grabbed the coffee Emma had made for her.

‘I’m sorry, Kirstie. I know how hard this must be for you. I know what Christmas is like for you and Olivia after … well, after what happened to Don and Sue. Do you want to spill the whole sorry tale about what happened at the studio on Monday?’

‘It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but the sound guy, Martin, has always had it in for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did it on purpose. It certainly didn’t surprise me that he was the first person to upload the incriminating video to YouTube and Twitter.’

Kirstie was about to enlarge on her conspiracy theory, but she was suddenly engulfed by a dark sweeping lethargy. She sunk down into her sister’s chintzy sofa and heaved a sigh. No good would come of blaming anyone but herself. She glanced at her best friend. Her turquoise eyes were filled with such compassion that a surge of self-pity tumbled through her chest and she burst into tears.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about Martin. What happened was totally my responsibility, but oh, Em, you know what I’m like when I get a sniff of anything associated with Christmas. I can just about manage to get through the main celebrations: birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Day, but when I get so much as a hint of cloves, or cinnamon, or worst of all, crushed pine needles, well, my resolve just crumbles and I’m an emotional wreck.’

‘What did Brad say?’

‘He was really lovely about it. He knows what happened to my parents, but even so, he had no choice. Flora Swift is doing the Christmas episodes for the next two weeks instead of me.’

‘I know, I saw her this morning …’

Kirstie stared at Emma, desperate to ask what she thought of the diminutive blonde with a penchant for stilettos and displaying her impressive cleavage, but she feared the answer.

‘Brad’s asked me to come up with something innovative to kick off the new year, something that will appeal to the health-conscious and those anxious to lose the Christmas pounds. It’s the first time he’s asked for my input on programme content so I’m really excited. I’ve got a few ideas about who I might want to appear as guests too. I’m sure the Christmas fiasco will just be a blip in the scheme of things.’

‘So, does that mean you’re definitely still selling the Dancing Duck and staying in London?’

‘Of course I am!’

Kirstie realized too late that she had replied to Emma’s question a little too quickly. She saw from the smidgeon of optimism on her friend’s face that she had hoped that because of the Kirstie’s Christmas Kitchen fiasco, she had come home to help Olivia turn the fortunes of the pub around.

‘Emma …’

‘Sorry, I just thought, maybe, you’d decided to … well, get involved a bit more. Perhaps with your undeniable hospitality skills, we’ll be able to make the place viable. I just hoped …’

Kirstie’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. How could Emma say that?

‘Em, you know we had no choice but to sell, don’t you? Livie and Harry have tried everything to boost the pub’s income, even restructuring the finances, before they announced they would have to put the pub on the market. There really isn’t any other option. Apart from winning the lottery and we both know that’s not going to happen. Not with my luck!’

With her eyes, she begged Emma to support what had been a very painful decision – for God’s sake, she needed someone on her side. With Olivia missing in action, she couldn’t possibility face the next two weeks by herself, especially when everyone would be ramming the Christmas spirit down her throat. She suspected she wouldn’t find a single person within a five-mile radius of Cranbury who agreed with their decision to hand over the business their parents had nurtured and cherished to a complete stranger – a wealthy London lawyer to boot. It was almost treason! She had no idea where Miles Morgan chose to spend his downtime – Knightsbridge probably.

‘It’s okay, Kirstie. I do understand. But that’s no reason to give up hope. Miracles do happen, you know. Fairy godmothers and godfathers exist, especially at this time of year. Hey, have I told you about Calvin?’

‘Who’s Calvin?’ asked Kirstie, her spirits lifting as they moved onto the safer ground of Emma’s dating exploits – always fertile pasture for gossip and giggles. Emma could often be found floating on the wings of Eros as she made her way through the eligible men of the parish. However, after two or three dates, she usually discovered some unpalatable fault that terminated the love story after the prologue. One unfortunate guy was ditched simply because he wore the same cologne as her father, another for having a lifelong passion for Formula One. She wondered what Emma would rake out of Calvin’s personality closet so she didn’t have to progress to a dreaded fourth date.

‘He’s a male model. Lives in Salisbury. I met him at a wedding I went to last weekend. The bride wanted bespoke jewellery – and a matching headpiece. Think turquoise stones encased in delicate silver filigree and snowdrop earrings. I also designed a silver link bracelet and a single charm for Archie to give to Zara on the actual day as a keepsake. You never know, maybe he’ll order another one for their anniversary or the birth of their first child, which a little bird has told me is imminent. Great marketing strategy, eh? Bond Street here I come!’

Emma’s eyes sparkled as she described her jewellery designs. Kirstie loved seeing her friend so animated about what had been her passion since high school. It was exactly how she felt about her presenting career.

‘We have to squeeze every single coin of happiness out of life – you know that more than anyone, Kirst.’

‘Sure I do. However, at the moment I just happen to be bankrupt in the happiness stakes.’

Ever the optimist, Emma shook her head sadly and laid her hand on Kirstie’s arm. The long scarlet ribbons dangling from the fluted sleeves of her home-made kaftan tickled the back of Kirstie’s hand.

‘You look exhausted, even more so than usual. Did I ever tell you that you work too hard at that TV studio?’

‘Emma …’

‘Anyway, moving on. Calvin and I are going out on a proper date tomorrow night and he has this great friend – Barnie – who I think you might …’

‘Stop. Right. There. Miss Finch. There is no way I’m going to let you set me up on a blind date the day after I arrive home with my tail between my legs having made a complete fool of myself on national television. Do you think I’m totally stupid?’

‘So the Dancing Duck is still your home, is it?’ Emma smirked.

Kirstie decided to ignore her provocation. ‘All I wanted to do was hole up here, lick my wounds for a few weeks, pin on my “Best Auntie” badge, and look after Ethan whilst Olivia did all the Christmas stuff she’s probably been planning for the Dancing Duck since Easter.’

‘Oh, yes, well everything is organized and it’s going to be amazing.’

If there was one thing Kirstie loved about Emma it was the fact that she never lingered on one subject for long: world-enhancing or mundane. Flitting from one happy encounter to the next, with a wide smile splitting her cheeks, artisan earrings flashing in the sunlight, Emma made friends wherever she went. Kirstie was more grateful than usual to have successfully diverted her friend’s attention from mandatory double-dating. The very thought made her break out in a sweat.

‘Hey, any chance of a hand down here? We are running a drinking establishment, not a Gossip Group for Grouchy Girls!’ Josh’s voice floated up the stairs, laced with barely concealed irritation.

‘Sorry,’ chorused Kirstie and Emma.

‘Why don’t I let you unpack and then you can come down and help behind the bar.’ Emma saw the grimace of panic on Kirstie’s face and laughed. ‘Okay, just come and have a drink by the fire. Josh has insisted we light a log fire every night in December and it’s so cosy. You can help us decide where to put the tree.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re putting the Christmas tree up tomorrow. Josh has ordered one from Angus up at the farm. Livie agreed that we should have a real one this year as it will be our … our last.’

Emma gulped down her emotions and scuttled off down the stairs to finish her shift, her Doc Marten boots thumping on the stairs like a kettledrum.

Kirstie stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her sister’s kitchen-diner. Emma was right. She did look tired – and older – and Emma wasn’t the first to have mentioned it that week either. But exhaustion was just an inconvenient side effect of putting every last ounce of effort into making Kirstie’s Kitchen the best it could be.

However, she refused to dwell on her obligatory sabbatical. What she had to concentrate on now was coming up with a believable excuse for not joining in with the tradition she had managed to avoid for the previous two years running – decorating the very last Harrison Christmas tree in The Dancing Duck.

She felt a dose of flu coming on.