Christmas at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre Read online

  His face straightened immediately but the laughter remained in his brilliant green eyes.

  ‘I’m not laughing,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that, then?’ She jabbed a finger at his face, misjudging the distance between them, and accidentally collided with his eye. ‘Oh, shit. Sorry.’

  ‘Ow!’ Ruefully, he rubbed his eye. ‘God, that hurt.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she repeated breathlessly. Then remembered why she had jabbed a finger at him in the first place, and renewed her frown instead. ‘But you shouldn’t have laughed at me. And then lied about it.’

  ‘I wasn’t lying. It’s not laughter. This is relief.’

  ‘What?’

  The corners of his mouth tipped up again, and he took another hurried step backwards, seeing her expression. ‘I can’t believe you thought that …’ His grin grew wider. ‘You’re jealous of Melody.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘My ex-wife.’ He backed away again as she came at him. ‘Woah. She’s a very, very ex-wife. Trust me, I’m never going there again.’

  ‘So why is she on the phone to you constantly.’

  ‘Because she wants custody of Woody.’

  ‘Woody?’

  ‘He was our snake.’ He shrugged. ‘And she’s mad because when we broke up, I took him with me. But she only wants him back to spite me.’ He rubbed his chin as though remembering some unpleasant fight where he got punched. ‘It was not an amicable break-up. Melody’s a bit of a control freak, and I … I just like to relax, you know. Her constant cleaning, and hoovering, and keeping track of my movements … It drove me mad.’

  ‘Your movements?’

  ‘Like, in and out of the house. The hours I kept at work.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He frowned. ‘What did you think I meant?’

  She avoided his gaze. ‘Oh, nothing.’

  He laughed. ‘Did you think I meant … ’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Okay.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m sorry I laughed before. It’s just … You have absolutely no reason to be jealous of Melody.’

  ‘I’m not jealous.’ Hannah stamped her foot in outrage.

  ‘I believe you.’ He raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, and then spoiled it by muttering as an aside, ‘Liar.’

  A strange sound came from Hannah’s throat.

  He stared. ‘Are you … growling at me?’

  She set her teeth, not replying.

  ‘Listen.’ He moved fast, dragging her into his arms before she could escape. ‘I don’t do infidelity,’ he said against her ear, his warm breath leaving her skin tingling. ‘Trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of that with Melody, and it’s hell. I would never inflict that on someone else.’

  Hannah hesitated. ‘She went off with someone else?’

  ‘A cameraman. He was married, though not any longer. They made quite a pair.’ His voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘And now she wants Woody so her little family can be complete.’

  Relief softened Hannah’s rigid muscles as she digested that information. It sounded like the truth too. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Would I lie about Woody?’

  Hannah smiled. There was a moment of silence, and then she stepped back, studying his face. ‘I feel such an idiot.’

  ‘Well, you are rather,’ he said kindly.

  ‘Hey!’ Hannah made a fist and punched him lightly on the arm.

  ‘Ouch.’ He pretended to rub it, and then swooped down and picked her up in his arms. Which was quite a feat, as she was not exactly a featherweight. Hannah squeaked and grabbed hold of him, but he ignored her, merely saying, ‘Mind your head.’ He manoeuvred her through the doorway only lightly banging her ankle against the door surround.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said tartly, ‘but where are we going?’

  ‘Bed, of course. That sofa wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to make love, you know. Hell on the knees, and I need mine in good condition.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘In case of any future encounters.’ His eyes did that crinkly, laughing thing again. He glanced down at her, and then added mischievously, ‘Talking of knees, did you know that your dungarees are on inside-out?’

  After accusing Daniel unjustly of doing the dirty on her, Hannah thought she was past embarrassment. But colour flared in her face as she checked, and saw that he was right. In her hurry, she had stepped into her dungarees without noticing what she was doing.

  Daniel grinned, catching her expression of dismay. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll help you take them off in a minute. Now, don’t look down.’

  Then he ran up the stairs, breathing fast. Hannah closed her eyes and held on, hoping to goodness he would not trip and drop her. It would not be much fun to spend Christmas in traction. But she ought to have trusted him, because mere seconds later, she felt herself floating gently down onto the softness of his bed, and opened her eyes to see him kneeling above her.

  ‘Now then,’ he murmured, ‘about those dungarees.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next day Hannah managed to swap a half day of leave with Sam, so she was able to get home at lunch time. Daniel had invited her to go into Whitby with him, and she was as excited as a teenager on a first date. They had talked more last night – after generously reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies - and it had really cleared the air. He had been open about his failed marriage to Melody, and she had mentioned a few ex-boyfriends of her own, secretly pleased to see his frown as she described them. After that, it had taken very little persuasion from Daniel to get her to agree to another date.

  Having taken her clothes to work in preparation, she dressed warmly in the staffroom before heading outside into the car park

  Daniel was waiting for her in his sleek black car. He got out and opened the passenger door for her, bending his head to kiss her on the lips.

  ‘Good day?’

  She hesitated, very aware that they were still within plain sight of the office window. ‘Erm, not too bad, thanks.’

  He looked at her clean hands. ‘No repotting plants today?’

  ‘Gnomes,’ she said cryptically, and then slid into the passenger seat, which she rapidly discovered had under-seat heating. ‘Ooh, it’s warm. Lovely on my bottom.’

  Daniel grinned. ‘I put it on specially for you.’

  As they pulled out of the garden centre car park, Hannah caught a glimpse of Sam peering out from behind a pergola, Belle and Katy leaning out of the café kitchen window, and Mr Turner pretending to polish his office window while staring at them fixedly.

  Daniel drove the short distance to Whitby, and once he had found a parking place, they walked along the harbour, looking at the fishing boats and dodging lobster pots and stepping over hazardously-placed mooring ropes. The air was ripe with the smell of salt and fish, and hopeful seagulls stormed past them on outstretched wings, looking for food to steal.

  The temperature soon dropped, and the wind picked up, and Hannah’s hands grew cold even through her woollen gloves. Daniel saw her rubbing them, and warmed them between his own. When he was satisfied that she was warmer, he linked his fingers with hers, and they walked on together past shops selling quirky jewellery, waffles and syrup, and locally-caught fish with delicious-smelling chips.

  ‘How about a bite to eat?’ Daniel asked suddenly, halting in front of a rather swanky-looking seafood restaurant with elegant décor and soft lighting.

  She nodded, though it wasn’t the kind of place she would usually choose. ‘Why not?’

  The meal passed in a blur of candlelight and fascinating conversation. Daniel seemed to possess a real talent for making her laugh, and she adored his anecdotes about life in the film industry, told with dry wit and such a flair for the dramatic that she almost felt she had witnessed them herself. In turn, she told him all about the carol concert and how she was struggling to get people involved.

  To her surprise, Daniel volunteered.

  ‘You?’ she said bl
ankly, putting down her knife and fork.

  He shrugged. ‘It sounds like fun.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled, and reached for her hand across the table. ‘Though don’t get too excited by the prospect, love. You haven’t heard my rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High yet. Especially the chorus.’ He hummed a few rapid bars under his breath, watching her. ‘I’ve been told I sound like a mouse on steroids.’

  Hannah was very much afraid that she was tumbling in love with this man.

  Only too deeply, and far too fast.

  Christmas Eve dawned bright and clear, though the cold weather was the sort that sears the back of the throat and turns noses, ears and uncovered fingers a nasty raw red.

  Not a particularly flattering look, Hannah thought, pushing along a trolley loaded with winter shrubs and watching her breath form puffy white clouds on the frosty air. She was wearing a green elf hat – on Mr Turner’s orders, so there was no getting out of it – and flashing tinselly earrings, but that was about the only notice she’d taken of her appearance so far today. She only hoped she’d have time to put on some make-up before Daniel arrived, as a kind of camouflage. He had seen her in some embarrassing situations, and still seemed keen. But he had suggested a Christmas drink together after the carol-singing, which she’d read as a euphemism for more hanky-panky, and she rather thought making love to a woman with chapped lips and a runny nose might be asking too much of the poor man.

  Camilla stuck her head out of the door into the outdoor plants section, looked harassed. ‘Hannah, what on earth are you doing? People are starting to arrive for the carol concert. You need to be at the front of the store, not messing about with shrubs.’

  I’m not messing about with them, she thought rebelliously. I’m doing my proper job. This is a garden centre, not a musical venue.

  But she suspected that kind of tart response would not go down well with the boss’s uptight daughter, so she merely nodded, and called back reluctantly, ‘I’ll be right there.’

  ‘Have you forgotten you’re a Junior Manager now?’ Camilla shook her head, looking pointedly at the trolley. ‘You need to delegate these grunt jobs to someone else, and spend more time on supervision and shop floor management.’

  Hannah waited until Camilla had gone back inside, then pulled a face that would not have looked out of place on a church gargoyle, sure there were no customers in sight.

  Typically, a man in a woolly bobble hat reared up over the standard roses display, gazing in astonishment at her face. ‘Eh, better watch out the wind don’t blow, lass,’ he said, giving her a knowing wink, ‘or you could end up stuck like that.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ she said, smiling weakly.

  Carefully, she manoeuvred the heavy trolley into a corner where nobody would fall over it – though anything was possible today, with plastic cupfuls of eggnog and mulled wine being handed out so freely to customers – and made her way back into the warm garden centre. On her way, she spotted Paul, a new member of staff, and asked him to deal with her abandoned trolley.

  It had been a madly busy day. Aside from the last-minute shopping rush for gifts, the carol concert had brought in unprecedented numbers of customers that afternoon, and now the spicy scent of mulled wine and mince pies drifted through the shop, filling the place with holiday spirit. Literally, in the case of those imbibing festive drinks.

  Hannah was feeling rushed more than usual. On top of her new duties as Junior Manager, she also had to make sure the carol concert ran smoothly. It felt like the first proper test of her abilities, and Hannah wanted the event to be perfect. After all, everyone was going to be there, from the highest to the lowest staff member, and many customers had signed up, mostly regulars, but some new ones, too.

  And Daniel Elliott was among them.

  That made her remember to check her appearance. She’d been so busy, she’d hardly had time to visit the ladies’ since her morning break. But it was a good opportunity to take a breather from the growing pandemonium on the shop floor.

  In the staff ladies’ washroom, she put on some light make-up, including a dash of pink lipstick, and examined her reflection critically.

  Not too bad.

  Apart from an over-application of blusher that made her look like a clown, or perhaps a member of an eighties’ New Romantic band.

  Stop it!

  Hannah gripped the sink, and took a few deep, calming breaths. At least, she hoped the deep breathing would be calming, because she was getting light-headed, and it felt more like she was inducing a panic attack. Everything was going fine, she told herself firmly. Her carol concert was going to rock, and everyone would have such a great time that it would overshadow even last year’s spectacularly successful Easter Egg Hunt.

  Switching on the tap to wash her hands, she gave a screech and jumped backwards as water bounced up from the bowl and splashed all over the front of her uniform.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  Belle came barrelling through the door, her brilliant red hair partly concealed under an over-large Santa hat. ‘Are you all right? I thought I heard you scream.’ She saw the wet patch on the front of Hannah’s uniform. ‘Oh, you used the broken tap. Didn’t you see the notice?’

  ‘What notice?’

  ‘Oh.’ Belle looked blankly at the splashback tiles behind the taps. ‘There was meant to be a notice. I expect someone will get round to it eventually. Word went round earlier.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hannah said through gritted teeth, ‘but it didn’t reach me, and now it’s too late. This had better not be one of Sam’s jokes.’ She started scrubbing at the wet patch with the hand towel but it had seen a lot of action today and was sodden. Hurriedly, she snatched up a handful of paper tissues, but they were too thin and quickly became shredded. ‘I can’t believe this. I look a right mess. I can’t even hide behind you lot, because I’m running the event. So I’m going to be right up front where everyone can see me.’ She groaned, giving up in despair. It looked awful, and no amount of rubbing was going to improve matters. ‘And the worst thing is, Daniel’s going to be there.’

  ‘Perhaps you can carry something to hide it,’ Belle said helpfully.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Then she beamed. ‘Bring Lightning Brow with you. Like a Christmas mascot. You could hold her in front of you throughout the singing. That’ll hide the wet patch.’

  Hannah was mystified. ‘How is a hen a Christmas mascot?’

  ‘Erm … ’ Belle hesitated, then said slowly, ‘You could … improvise. Pinch one of the smallest Santa hats from the display for her.’

  Hannah couldn’t help laughing. ‘I don’t know what’s worse. Looking like a doofus with a soaked uniform, or holding Lightning Brow in a Santa hat through all the carol-singing.’ She sighed, studying herself in the mirror. ‘I suppose I’ll just have to go out like this.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Belle said, and smiled, patting her on the back. ‘I really don’t even think Daniel will notice and if he does it won’t matter.’

  ‘It matters to me,’ Hannah said frankly. ‘He lives in London, and hangs out with some of the most beautiful actresses in the world, and then … ’ She buried her face in her hands, then belatedly realised she was probably smudging her lipstick and stood straight again. ‘And then there’s me,’ she finished in bleak tones. ‘A garden centre worker from Yorkshire. Never been anywhere, never done anything.’

  ‘You really care for him, don’t you?’

  ‘I think I’m in love.’

  Belle’s eyes widened, but all she said was, ‘You’ll survive, pet.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper, as though afraid they might be overheard. ‘And if I were to take a bet on it, which I wouldn’t, of course, I’d say he’s probably falling for you too.’

  ‘I wish!’

  But it was a lovely thought, and one that came back forcibly when Daniel arrived just as Hannah was trying to gather everyone into position by the large tree.


  Daniel came straight over in front of everyone, and planted a kiss on her mouth like a rose. Hannah went red, looking around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. But of course they had. Belle was beaming. Sam looked knowing. Katy winked at her. And the man in the bobble hat clapped and gave a hearty guffaw, nearly knocking over a spinner of Christmas cards before being helped to a safe distance by Camilla.

  After that Hannah stopped looking. She didn’t want to see any more. Daniel flicked the end of Hannah’s green elf hat. ‘Cute.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He glanced down at the large wet patch on her green dungarees, and his lips twitched.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said warningly.

  He mimed zipping his mouth shut, locking them and throwing away the key.

  ‘Good,’ she said, and pointed him sternly into position with the other singers before raising her voice. ‘Right, let’s make a start, shall we?’

  After successfully herding everyone into a rough choir-like group, trying to keep sopranos and basses together, she handed out the photocopied booklets of lyrics she’d come in early to make. On her nod, Mr Turner dimmed the main overhead lights, leaving only wall lighting and the Christmas tree lights twinkling around them.

  Very aware of a scarily large crowd of customers waiting expectantly behind her, Hannah sketched a gesture to get everyone kicked off at the same time, singing a capella, as it had proved too difficult to play the backing music on CD without drowning out their voices.

  They began with a jaunty modern song for the younger kids, When Santa Got Stuck Up The Chimney, and everyone sang their hearts out, mostly with more enthusiasm than musicality, except Sam who defiantly mouthed the words instead. Hannah glared at him and drew her finger across her throat, then saw Mr Turner looking at her in astonishment. Oops, she thought. Not very professional behaviour for a Junior Manager. Hurriedly, she pretending to be adjusting her elf hat instead.