Christmas at the Dancing Duck. Daisy James
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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.’