Authors: Daisy James
At last, Tom met Callie’s eyes. ‘I’m exhausted, Callie. But I’m doing this for Dad. It would kill him if there was even a whiff of a hint that I intended to close the bakery. Oh, I know he thinks my intricate creations are the product of namby-pamby pandering to rich, nouveau-cuisine connoisseurs for whom he has no time. He used to cringe when I was a teenager and he saw me carry out my confectionary autopsies to ascertain the precise mix of ingredients and then attempt to reconstruct them with more panache than the original inventor.’
Callie dropped her gaze from his eyes to his pianist fingers, picturing Tom mixing together a symphony of flavours all his own, a true genius with a wooden spoon but minus the smooth social skills and engaging personality of the celebrity TV chefs. His lack of self-confidence ensured he would not be taking part in the Great British Pageant of Patisserie any time soon.
Tom leaned towards her. ‘Callie, listen to me. You don’t need to plough all your money and energy into refurbishing or wasting your design talents on a parochial shop catering to the needs of the old dears who use it as a community centre. No one would think badly of you. They all loved your aunt, but this is about
your
life,
your
ambitions. It’s not worth it. Don’t throw your dreams away, Callie, like I have!’
‘But, Tom, running your Dad’s bakery clearly isn’t preventing you from experimenting with new recipes. We adore your cupcakes – they are divine creations of sugary art,’ she enthused as she wiped away a crumb from her lips.
‘But do the discerning customers of Allthorpe want a steady diet of pistachio macaroons and tiramisu pyramids?’ he asked.
‘Never underestimate the hungry customer, Tom. They may be elderly, but they, like everyone else, can be lured to partake of a delicious
petite madeleine
or glazed fruit tart. Many still bake from scratch at home, you know, unlike the teenagers, although I am reliably informed by Nessa, my friend who teaches up at St Hilda’s, that the girls are
loving
the cookery classes they have reintroduced into the curriculum and they’re struggling to meet demand. Hey, and
GBBO
fever is sweeping the nation, too. Why not tailor your forensic culinary experiments each week to produce your own twist on one of the recipes featured on TV?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Who would be interested in that?’
Callie rolled her eyes at the scepticism and the lacklustre response from this quiet, self-effacing man with the elegant fingers. ‘Well,
I
would, for a start, and so would Delia, and Marcia – oh, and Nessa and her students in the cooking class. Maybe you could offer to give a cooking demonstration to the class at the school, mixed in with a soupçon of gossip from your exploits in the kitchens of Paris and Betty’s?’
Callie paused in her organisation of Tom’s future business exploits as a look of pure horror invaded Tom’s face and made her laugh for the first time that week.
***
‘Don’t forget, Tish, let me do the talking at the next boutique,’ warned Nikki as she clambered from the back seat of the black cab onto the pavement outside Callie-Louise Bridal.
‘Why did you have to tell that Brigitte Gasnier woman I was pregnant? Did you see the way her eyes narrowed? Please don’t use the same excuse this time, Nikki,’ pleaded Tish, removing her compact and reapplying a slick of pearly pink lipstick for the tenth time. ‘Oh, isn’t this an adorable little shop? I love the peppermint-and-gold theme. I bet this is where the fairy-tale gown was designed. It has to be.’
‘Tish, stop with the romance claptrap, will you? Someone needs to break it to you that there’s no such thing as “true love that lasts forever”.’ She signed the universally accepted two-fingered speech marks of sarcasm.
Tish’s lower lip trembled with annoyance, but she rallied. She tossed her curls behind her ears and fixed her eyes on Nikki. ‘Finding a soulmate is a tough task, I get that. It can take years. Hell, you’re right; some people may never find “the one”. But you know what? I’m never going to stop looking and when I do find him, I’m going to use every weapon in my armoury to hang on to him. If the choice is happiness versus loneliness, I know which I’d rather invest in.’
‘But what’s the point? There’s nothing you can do if your soulmate decides to run off with a shop assistant from the local department store, is there?’ asked Nikki.
Tish ignored her; she was on a roll. ‘My theory is that the more love you give, the more you receive. The more you expect it to fall into your lap when you’re not looking, the less likely it is that you’ll find it. You need to let people into your heart, Nikki. Sure, I adore weddings, but don’t misunderstand me – I love romance more. I love happiness more. I love being in love more. After all the glitz and hype, even actresses and rock stars have at some stage to go home and cook dinner and wash the dishes. And those mundane tasks in life are made much more interesting if your soulmate is at your side slicing the sushi.’
Nikki stared at Tish as though she had gone stark raving bonkers. ‘Tish, will you pull yourself together? Don’t you understand how serious this is? Your first celebrity client, Lilac Verbois, is getting married in three months’ time. She has no gown. Don’t you think she’ll have a problem with walking down the aisle in her lingerie? I’ve about had enough of this “make-believe” fairy tale you insist on living in. Get over it. Life isn’t a picture-book story with a Prince Charming just waiting in the wings to whisk… What?’
‘Lingerie!’ Tish covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I’d completely forgotten.’
‘But surely Lilac…’
‘She asked me to do it,’ she squeaked.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’
She’d just about had enough of Tish. Didn’t she realise there was no such thing as true love? Even when you thought you’d found it – it could still vanish in an instant, borne away on the wings of a blonde Scandinavian girl who worked in the china department of Liberty’s. Yet, sadly, you just couldn’t control who you gave your heart to, no matter how much you tried to stack the odds in your favour.
However, what she could control was her job. As she stood on the pavement in Pimlico, looking up at the pretty peppermint signage announcing in curly golden lettering that they’d arrived at Callie-Louise Bridal Couture, she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She pushed open the door with a petulant Tish stomping in behind her.
‘Ah, you must be Millie Channing. I’m Scarlet Webb – we spoke on the phone.’
Nikki shook hands with Scarlet and introduced her to Tish who simply nodded. Nikki watched Scarlet run an expert eye over Tish’s dimensions.
‘And I think I might have the perfect dress for your client.’ Scarlet smiled at Tish but got no response. ‘Please, come through. Would you like a glass of champagne? It’s English sparkling wine, actually – Callie insists on it. I can assure you it’s just as delicious.’
Tish’s frosty mood evaporated. ‘I’d love a glass of champagne! Thank you!’
Flora appeared with a silver tray and offered a flute of the effervescent elixir to Tish who took it and drained it in one. Nikki shook her head to refuse, but, before Flora could whisk the glass away, Tish had grabbed that one, too. She smiled like the Cheshire Cat at Nikki as she relaxed on the huge cream chesterfield sofa, crossed her slender, stockinged legs and waited for the gowns to be paraded.
Nikki’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since supper the previous evening and then only an attempt at cheese on toast. There was never anything in her fridge anyway. She usually tried to stock up on fresh salads, fruit and fish on a Saturday, but by the following Friday she’d not had the chance to eat any of it and had to throw it away in the bin and start the circle all over again. She knew it was a waste but, as far as food was concerned at least, she was an eternal optimist – one night she would get home at a reasonable hour and cook a decent meal for herself. It just hadn’t happened since Lilac had announced she was marrying the handsome hunk that was Finn Marchant and was holding a competition to select the designer of her wedding gown. If it had been she who’d been lucky enough to be getting hitched to a rock star, Nikki would have opted for a quiet, intimate wedding, perhaps in a tiny church on the beach in some exotic location, like Bali or Hawaii. Even the dress was superfluous if you had the man of your dreams standing next to you, barefoot in the sand.
Her uncharacteristic sojourn into nuptial oblivion was brought to an abrupt halt when an exclamation erupted from Tish’s lips. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’
Nikki focused her attention on the dress Scarlet was displaying and leapt from the sofa. ‘Oh, Scarlet, I could kiss you! That’s it! That’s the one! It’s a Callie-Louise!’
Unlike Nikki, Tish had no reservations on the kissing front. She clutched a shocked Scarlet to her chest and slapped a loud kiss on both cheeks. ‘Thank God, thank God. You are an absolute saviour. I love you.’
‘Erm, I’m glad you like it. Do you want to try it on?’
‘No!’ screamed Nikki. ‘No! Sorry, let me explain. I think you should sit down.’
Nikki guided Scarlet to the couch and perched next to her. She scrabbled around in her Birkin for her business card and her ID. ‘You’re not going to believe this. I’m Nikki Coates. I’m…’
‘You’re Lilac Verbois’s PA. Oh, and you’re Tish Marshall, her wedding planner. I thought I recognised you. I wasn’t sure, but… Why are you here?’
‘The Callie-Louise design has been chosen by Lilac as the one she wants to wear on her wedding day.’
‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Flora, get in here!’ screamed Scarlet.
Flora appeared at the door, her eyebrows raised in mute enquiry.
‘We’ve won!’
‘Won what?’
‘The Lilac Verbois competition.’ And Scarlet promptly burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just such a shock. We thought, we thought when we didn’t hear anything that…’
‘Well, it’s taken us some time to find you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Scarlet asked, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the tissues they usually reserved for tearful brides-to-be.
‘There was no documentation with your dress when it was delivered to The Dorchester. Is this the dress Callie-Louise submitted?’
‘Yes, it is, but I don’t understand. Why… oh.’ She turned to look at Flora’s pale, almost translucent face, her eyes wide, her fingertips resting on her lips. ‘You forgot to fill in the paperwork? Flora!’
‘Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry, Scarlet. I know you mentioned it, but remember, we were in a panic about Callie’s aunt and I was upset and I suppose I just…’
‘No harm done,’ interrupted Nikki, ‘except the time that’s been lost. Lilac has a tight schedule. These are the dates she’s available for fittings. As you know, the gown has to be ready for the thirty-first of July.’
‘Callie usually asks for a minimum of three fittings. This first date is not until two months’ time. We need to do the first fitting straight away.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s not possible. Lilac is flying out to Croatia as soon as she and Finn have finalised everything with the Bishop at York Minster next Tuesday.’
Scarlet’s brain whirled. They couldn’t start work on the gown until they had an idea of Lilac’s exact measurements. ‘Callie is currently taking a short sabbatical to finalise her late aunt’s affairs. Her aunt passed away recently and left a haberdashery shop in Yorkshire to Callie. I’ll call her to tell her the fantastic news. I’m sure she can come back down to London this week to see Lilac before she leaves the country.’
‘But Lilac isn’t in London. She’s filming in the Outer Hebrides. When that’s in the can, she’s being flown by helicopter to Leeds/Bradford airport for the meeting at the Minster, and then she’s flying straight out again from Manchester. Did you say the shop was in Yorkshire?’
‘Yes, Allthorpe.’
‘Right. I’ll arrange to collect Lilac in York when she’s through with the arrangements and drive her over to the Yorkshire branch of Callie-Louise. Shouldn’t be too difficult.’
‘Oh, it’s not a branch…’ Scarlet caught the meaning in Nikki’s stare. ‘Yes, I’m sure the Yorkshire branch of Callie-Louise Bridal Couture will be ready to receive Miss Verbois whenever she is available.’
‘Right. Can I ask you to do one last thing? Miss Verbois has said she would like to congratulate the winner in person. Could you keep this a secret for a couple of days? So that Lilac can inform Callie-Louise herself? I’ll be in touch and many congratulations.’
‘I think we should stay and celebrate!’ announced Tish, grabbing another flute from Flora’s tray.
Flora smiled and joined her, tears of joy – but mostly of relief – trickling down her cheeks. She’d just got away with almost losing the most prestigious order Callie-Louise Bridal Couture was ever likely to get, by the skin of her teeth. To say she looked relieved was an understatement.
Nikki glanced at the two girls knocking back the champagne and then at Scarlet. She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps she did deserve a glass. Hadn’t she just pulled the proverbial rabbit out of the hat?
The doorbell jangled its introduction and both Callie and Tom turned their heads to see Marcia, without Iris in tow, blushing at the door.
‘Oh, Callie, sorry – I didn’t realise you had company.’ Marcia hid behind her hair as she hesitated in the doorway, clearly wanting to flee but not sure if she dared, dragging her mother’s oversized tweed coat across her rounded shoulders like a shield.
‘It’s okay, Marcia. This is Tom Wallington, from the bakery on the corner?’ Callie shot up to prevent Marcia from leaving and guided her to a seat at the table, realising that if she spent any more time listening to Tom’s take on life then she would be joining him on the pulpit of the village’s bridge. ‘And I was in the process of persuading him to present a few cookery demonstrations to the students at St Hilda’s. Don’t you think that’s an excellent idea?’