Authors: Daisy James
As Callie lifted her head from the steering wheel, she caught a burst of light out of the corner of her eye. She squinted through the fly-splattered windscreen, searching for its source. She ran her eyes along the row of shops that included Wallington’s bakery, Marc’s little flower shop, Buds & Bows, and Gingerberry Yarns. She was about to put it down to a car wing mirror flashing in the evening sunshine until she saw a second flash from the doorway of Marietta’s Hairdressing Salon, which had closed for the day. It was a camera bulb.
It took a few further seconds of concentration before she distinguished that the long lens of the camera was directed at the shop window of Gingerberry. Her first assumption was that a holidaymaker was entranced by the beauty of the rural village of Allthorpe and wanted to preserve his memory of a happy holiday away from the daily grind. However, it wasn’t long before a second sceptical, but more accurate, thought arrived. The owner of the camera was dressed head-to-toe in black and wasn’t just sheltering in the shop doorway – he was
lurking
.
What the…
Then it hit her. Oh, my God! No!
She restarted the engine, shoved the car in gear and cannoned to the high street. She leapt out of the car, her hair swinging around her cheeks, and strode towards the cameraman. Or should she say paparazzo? A flash of blinding light erupted in her face and she screwed her eyes tightly.
‘Hey, what do think you’re doing?!’
The man smirked, gathered his holdall and sprinted off down the street.
Mmm, perhaps approaching him all guns blazing hadn’t been one of her smartest ideas. If she had taken the time to think it through, she realised, she would have played it differently. Now he had a photograph of her reacting angrily, which was tantamount to admitting she was the designer of Lilac’s wedding gown. Why else would she have been so suspicious of a man with a camera in an idyllic country village in rural North Yorkshire?
Chastising herself for her stupidity, she returned to her car, dragged her overnight bag from the back seat and hoisted the handles over her shoulder. She really should have been more prepared. If, as she hoped, business at Callie-Louise and Gingerberry took off after the publicity of the wedding, then she would have to be thinking of a strategy to deal with such scenarios. She did hope to attract more celebrity interest and she couldn’t have inquisitive photographers camping out on the doorstep of Gingerberry every day!
As she reached for the door handle a burble of conversation trickled from within and, with a jolt of guilt, she remembered that it was Tuesday night. She had left London in such a hurry that she’d overlooked telephoning Delia to tell her she was on her way. She had even forgotten that the Cupcakes & Couture session would be well underway by the time she arrived.
The familiar tinkle of the brass bell welcomed her and for the first time in days she felt the leaden weight on her chest shift and the corners of her lips curl upwards. She took a step forward and Gingerberry wrapped its comfort blanket around her shoulders and all her troubles seemed to melt away. She briefly closed her eyes and drew in a strengthening breath. She loved it here.
‘Hi, everyone!’
‘Callie! Hi!’ came a chorus of welcome.
‘Callie! What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?’ Delia dashed towards her followed by Marcia and Callie had to fight an urge to crumble into tears, she was so relieved to be home.
‘Oh, it was just a spur of the moment decision. I really wanted to attend the last Cupcakes & Couture session before the wedding. I’ve brought a few samples of organic silk from Callie-Louise that arrived last week and wanted to know what you all thought.’ Delia’s grey eyes narrowed and Callie knew she didn’t believe her. ‘I’ll just drop my bag upstairs. I could really murder one of your cappuccinos, Marcia? Oh, and I see Tom has been here, too! I want you to dish all the gossip about his catering for the wedding of the decade at Harewood House. Be down in a minute.’
Callie trotted up the stairs, feeling Delia and Marcia’s eyes scorching holes in her back, but the ripple of chatter resumed as the ladies got back to their chosen projects. She was delighted to see that the ranks of the Cupcakes & Couture sessions had swollen even further. She’d performed a swift headcount, which had told her there were seventeen women and five men, including Marc and his partner who were in the throes of knitting their longed-for Fair Isle jumper on the scruffy chesterfield. She released a sigh of relief. Now she had made the decision she was definitely keeping Gingerberry, these sessions would not only pay for themselves but would add a decent profit.
She dropped her holdall onto the sofa and, as she turned to go back downstairs, her eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen table awaiting her attention. She grabbed it and skipped back to the shop, anxious to catch up with everyone. She resolved not to mention the appearance of a lone photographer with a long lens trained on Gingerberry’s window. She knew he would be gone by now. She only hoped that Lilac would not be too upset – after all, it wasn’t as though she was carrying her wedding dress!
‘So, how was The Razorclaws concert?’ asked Marcia, her eyes scrutinising Callie’s reaction as she handed her a mug of coffee and one of Tom’s chocolate eclairs on a decorated china plate.
‘Fabulous! Awesome! Nessa had a great time, too. She even met an old teacher friend, Harvey, at the gig. He was there with his niece and her friends and…’ She knew she was gabbling. It was one of her well-known tactics for avoiding difficult conversations, but she wasn’t fooling Marcia who nevertheless had the grace not to press her on it.
She shuffled the letters addressed to Gingerberry Yarns in her palms, deciding which of the invoices to open first. There was only one envelope that wasn’t an ominous buff colour.
‘Come and see the hospice blanket, Callie,’ called one of Nessa’s high-school students. ‘It’s almost finished. We’re planning on presenting it to the residents at the Heppleton summer fayre next week. Will you be there with Nessa?’
‘Of course, I will, Alicia! I wouldn’t miss… Oh, my God!’
A flash of shock reverberated through her veins sending painful sparks out to her fingertips. Her knees gave way from under her and she slumped onto the chesterfield next to Marc, the letter she was holding fluttering to the floor.
‘What is it, sweetie? What’s happened? Are you okay? You’re not going to faint on us, are you? Stick your head between your knees! Would someone bring Callie a glass of water?’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Oh, thanks, Marcia, thanks.’
She took a gulp of the cool water, letting it trickle down her throat as she waited to regain her equilibrium. When her heart rate had finished its ferocious symphony she bent down to retrieve the letter and reread it slowly, carefully, savouring every word. It was only when she had read ‘With Warmest Wishes’ that she realised a cloak of silence had descended as the Cupcakes & Couture attendees waited for an explanation of her strange behaviour.
A wide smile split her face as she surveyed the gathering. Whilst she was overjoyed at the news she held in her hand, she knew it was not hers to keep. It was for everyone.
‘In fact, Marc, I’m more than fine! I’m ecstatic, euphoric, over the moon!’
‘So come on – spill the beans, my dear! Don’t keep us all in suspense!’
Callie stood up from the sofa and turned to face the people who had come to be like her family.
‘Delia, Marcia, could you join me?’ Callie gestured to the huge mahogany table where Delia presided over the finalising of a beautiful pair of leopard-print silk cami knickers. She stuck her needle and thread into the pin cushion she wore around her wrist and, along with Marcia, came to stand next to Callie.
‘Before I read out the contents of this letter’ – Callie shook the thick sheet of luxury cream writing paper – ‘I want to announce that Gingerberry Yarns will remain an integral part of the Allthorpe community for the foreseeable future. I know some of you were concerned about what would happen, especially after a number of shops have closed, but this will not happen at Gingerberry whilst I have any say in it.’
‘Yay!’ chorused Alicia and her friends.
Callie smiled. ‘And from today, if she agrees, Delia will become Gingerberry’s manager, ably assisted on a part-time basis by Marcia and potentially one of my colleagues from Callie-Louise, Flora, whom I suspect will be delighted to spend more time here due to her blossoming interest in a certain young photographer she met at Harewood House last time we were here.’
‘That’s fabulous news, Callie, but I can hardly bear the suspense. What’s in that letter?’ Marc clapped his hands and scooted to the edge of the sofa.
‘Before I read it out, I also want to say a heartfelt thank you to each and every one of you for the support you have given to my aunt over the years and also to me when I needed it most. These Cupcakes & Couture sessions have not only revitalised Gingerberry, but have also given me a new perspective on life. But not only that! You already know that orders for Callie-Louise Bridal lingerie have been increasing over the last few weeks and I’m getting fantastic feedback. I hope you are all spending your share of the profits wisely!’ There was a tinkle of laughter. ‘And here is the icing on the cupcake, so to speak!’
Callie waggled the letter in the air and ostentatiously cleared her throat.
‘Callie!’
‘Okay, okay.
‘Dear Ms Henshaw,
I am grateful for the opportunity you gave us to consider your new product line for inclusion in our Autumn/Winter Collection. Our buyer loved the hand-knitted sample sweater you provided and even more so the story behind its production. We pride ourselves on having a discerning clientele whom we believe would appreciate not only the beauty of the design but the local origins of the natural fibres and dyes used in the final product and the fact that each item is hand-crafted and therefore unique.
I wonder if initially we could discuss the supply of the Fair Isle sweater in a palette of colours to be agreed upon in consultation with yourselves and our designers. If our collaboration is successful we would be looking to move on to working with you on the design of other hand-crafted items, such as Aran sweaters, matching hats and scarves, and even Christmas-themed jumpers.
Congratulations, Ms Henshaw. Perhaps you could contact our Mr Gallagher to arrange for him to visit one your Cupcakes & Couture classes and maybe even take part.
With Warmest Wishes,
George Gallagher
Head of Collaborations’
Callie raised her eyes from the precious piece of parchment in her hands that secured the future of Gingerberry, maybe even of Callie-Louise, for years to come. But the reaction from her audience was muted, with none of the celebratory whoops she had expected. The sea of faces in front of her wore a blank, confused expression and her elation at making the announcement seeped from her veins.
‘What?’
‘Well, that’s lovely, dear,’ offered Iris, scooting her wheelchair forward to give Callie a hug.
‘But…’
Marc swung his head from left to right, squeezed Jacob’s hand and then stood up from the sofa. He drew Callie into his cologne-infused embrace before twisting the letter from her fingers and scanning its contents.
‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! What Callie has neglected to tell you, peeps, is that this letter is from Liberty’s – only
the
most wonderful department store in the whole of the UK! Wow! Congratulations, everyone! Jacob – get those knitting needles clicking. We are about to become internationally renowned crafters for Liberty’s!’
And at last the room erupted into cries of delight, interspersed with a few tears of joy. After hugging everyone, twice, Callie managed to slip out of the shop and call Scarlet, the instigator of the whole project.
‘Wow, Callie, that’s fabulous news! I’m thrilled for Gingerberry. Maybe I should put my order in now for my emerald and cream one before your prices skyrocket!’
‘It’ll be my treat, Scarlet. If it hadn’t been for you and your jumper…’
‘This is your project, Callie. Yours and the Cupcakes & Couture gang’s! Enjoy it! And I thought my news would be what got the champagne corks popping today!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just had a call, not five minutes ago, from Bianca Farietelli. She loved the hand-sewn silk teddies you sent over. Wants to talk to you about supplying our Callie-Louise Bridal lingerie via her luxury boutique in Knightsbridge.’
‘Oh, my God, I don’t think my heart can take any more!’ Callie’s throat tightened around a lump the size of a golf ball.
‘When are you coming back to Pimlico, Callie? It’s just that… well, Jules has tickets for
Mamma Mia!
and he’s asked if I’d like to go with him and I thought…’
Callie laughed. She knew something was developing between the two of them. She was relieved as it made her next few words much easier.
‘Scarlet, how would you feel about becoming my partner? I’ve decided to keep Gingerberry and I’ll be shuttling between London and Yorkshire for the foreseeable future. I need someone I can trust implicitly in the driving seat at Callie-Louise. What do you say?’
‘What do I say? I erm… Oh, Callie, yes, yes, yes!’
‘Before you make any commitment, I want you to know that I’m thinking of asking Flora to help me out with Gingerberry, so she’ll be away from Callie-Louise a fair bit.’
Scarlet laughed. ‘You know she’ll jump at the chance to spend more time in Yorkshire with a certain handsome former war photographer! You are the most thoughtful, considerate friend I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, Callie. Thank you.’
‘See you tomorrow. Let’s get this dress of the decade finished!’
The excitement at Callie-Louise Bridal had reached fever pitch. Even Jules had joined in with the gossip, speculating on what type of headpiece
he
would have designed for Lilac if he’d been commissioned, adamant that he wasn’t in the slightest bit jealous of Callie, Scarlet and Flora, not one smidgeon.