About the author
Holly emerged onto the Chick Lit scene by
winning the Belinda Jones Travel Club short story competition – and has not
looked back since.
Her adult fiction debut, The
Guestbook, hit number 5 in the Amazon chart and she has now written three books
with Bookouture: Fairytale Beginnings, Christmas at Lilac Cottage and
Snowflakes at Silver Cove.
Christmas at Lilac Cottage:
Welcome to the charming seaside town of White Cliff Bay, where Christmas is magical and love is in the air…Penny Meadows loves her home – a cosy cottage decorated with pretty twinkling fairy lights and stunning views over the town of White Cliff Bay. She also loves her job as an ice-carver, creating breathtaking sculptures. Yet her personal life seems frozen.
When Henry and daughter Daisy arrive at the cottage to rent the annex, Penny is determined to make them feel welcome. But while Daisy is friendly, Henry seems guarded.
As Penny gets to know Henry, she realises there is more to him than meets the eye. And the connection between them is too strong to ignore…
While the spirit of the season sprinkles its magic over the seaside town and preparations for the ice sculpting competition and Christmas eve ball are in full swing, can Penny melt the ice and allow love in her heart? And will this finally be the perfect Christmas she’s been dreaming of?
Like a creamy hot chocolate with marshmallows, you won’t want to put this deliciously heartwarming novel down.
Spend the perfect Christmas in White Cliff Bay this year. Snowflakes on Silver Cove coming very soon.
My Review: Christmas at Lilac Cottage - Review
Snowflakes at Silver Cove:
Libby Joseph is famous for her romantic Christmas stories. Every December, readers devour her books of falling in love against the magical backdrop of the Christmas season. If only Libby believed in the magic herself… Struggling to finish her current novel, Libby turns to her best friend and neighbour George Donaldson to cheer her up. But George also needs a bit of support himself. Nervous about getting back into the dating saddle after splitting from his wife, he and Libby strike a deal. She will teach George how to win over the ladies, and Libby will in turn be inspired to inject her novel with a good dose of romance.
As Libby and George explore the beautiful White Cliff Bay on a series of romantic Christmas-themed dates, Libby finds herself having more fun than she’s had in ages and…discovers feelings that she never knew she had for George.
But is it too late? Will George win someone else’s heart or can Libby act like the heroine in one of her stories and reach for her own love under the mistletoe this Christmas?
Snuggle up with a piece of Christmas cake and mulled wine, and spend the festive season at White Cliff Bay. You won’t want to leave! Christmas at Lilac Cottage also out now.
Chapter
1
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. SqueakSqueak,
SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueakBang,
SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang.
‘Oh!’
SqueakSqueakBang.
‘Oh!’
SqueakSqueakBang.
‘OH!’
SqueakSqueakBang.
‘OH!’
SqueakSqueakBang.
‘OH GOD!’
BangBang.
‘OH GOD!’
BangBangBangBang.
‘OHHHHHH!’
Every morning, without fail, Libby had been woken in the
same way.Every morning since three weeks earlier, when the newlyweds, Rosie and
Alex, had moved into the flat above her. Then Alex would race out to work,
clearly late and with a huge grin on his face.At six Alex would arrive home and
two minutes later the same noises would be heard again, occasionally peppered
with ‘Harder Alex, harder,’ or ‘Rosie, God I love you.’
Weekends were worse.They’d do it all day. And as today was
Sunday Libby was expecting an encore any time soon.
Urgh.Libby decided she hated newlyweds. Only a few more
weeks and she would be gone and she wouldn’t have to be woken by the horny
alarm clock any more.
She padded through to the kitchen and switched on the
dancing Santa who twisted and jived to some seventies Christmas tune. He made
her smile. Her best friend George had given it to her because he didn’t think
her tiny tree that sat and twinkled feebly in the corner of her flat was enough
in terms of decorations to celebrate Christmas. A singing reindeer, a dancing
tree and a serenading snowman had also found their way into her flat in the
last few weeks. He had tried to persuade her to take a four-foot-high
inflatable musical snow globe the day before, but she drew the line at
inflatables. George, it seemed, didn’t have this issue.
As Santa launched into another song, she made two rounds of
bacon sandwiches and two mugs of tea.Loading the whole lot onto a tray, she
took it over to the table by the lounge window and looked out on the glorious
view.
It was that view that had made her move to White Cliff Bay
in the first place. She had spent years travelling the world but, although she
had sworn she would never stay in the UK again, White Cliff Bay had appealed to
her in more ways than any other place had. Today the sea mirrored the first
time she had seen it, the weak winter sun glistening on the water in front of
her as if jewels were buried beneath the waves. Light snow had fallen
overnight, dusting Silver Cove beach with a sprinkling of talcum powder. She
leaned her hand on the window and closed her eyes, trying to capture the image
in her mind. She would miss this place when she left.
Reluctantly she turned from the view and went to the fridge,
reaching for the ketchup. It was obligatory to cover the bacon in a thick layer
of it. Then she remembered she had finished the bottle the night before.
Stepping over the newspapers on her front doorstep, she
walked across the hallway. Without knocking, she let herself into the flat
opposite. She stopped when she walked into the lounge; impossibly it looked
even more crammed with Christmas decorations than the last time she had seen
it. It wasn’t just the large tree that nearly blocked out the whole window, the
room was filled with almost a whole herd of life-size reindeer, a seven-foot
inflatable snowman, tinsel, garlands and an army of dancing, singing Christmas
characters along with the garish snow globe she had rejected. Christmas music
filled the flat as she moved to the festively strewn kitchen and went straight
to the fridge to get the ketchup, then followed the sound of music to the
bedroom.
There was George Donaldson, topless, dancing round the
bedroom with a six-foot inflatable candy cane as his dance partner. She smiled,
affection for him filling her heart. He was miles away from the alpha males she
wrote about in her books and maybe that’s what she liked about him. There was
nothing mean and moody about George Donaldson, he made her laugh a lot. His
hair was a messy mop of black curly hair that jiggled as he moved, his body was
tanned from days out on the beach. He didn’t have the cut abs and six-packs her
heroes always had, but he had a wonderful body with strong arms that gave the
best hugs in the world, making her feel safe and adored. She would miss him
more than anything once she had gone. She giggled as George took his partner in
his arms and moved in to kiss her.
She must have made more noise than she thought, as he
abruptly let go of the candy cane, looking guilty and embarrassed.
‘Libby Joseph! Does a man not have any privacy any more, did
you not knock?’
‘Of course not.Now did you want your breakfast or not?’
‘Ah Libby, you will make someone a goodly wife one day.’ He
walked past her, planting a big wet kiss on her forehead, grabbed a paper bag
by his door and then stopped to scoop up the newspapers on her front doorstep
before sitting down at her table, his mug of tea in his hand.
Libby sat down opposite him, smothering her bacon sandwich
in ketchup, and then tucked in.George flicked through the paper for a while
before turning his attention to his own breakfast.
‘So,’ he said, through a mouthful of sandwich, ‘newlyweds
wake you up again?’
She rolled her eyes and nodded.He smiled sympathetically and
turned his attention back to the paper.They sat in silence as they ate.There
was no need to make polite conversation; George was her best friend.They could
sit like this for hours without feeling the need to force a conversation.Other
times they would talk non-stop, only drawing breathto eat some of the delicious
food that he cooked for them. And her bacon sandwiches were amazing, if she did
say so herself, although it was pretty much the only decent thing she could
cook.In the first few weeks of their friendship, she had invited George to take
part in several dried-out pasta dishes, numerous cremated roast dinners with
unrecognisable meat and, once, some homemade soup that looked and tasted like
vomit.After that, they had mutually agreed that he should do most of the
cooking.
She looked across at
George and found it hard to believe she had only met him for the first time six
months before, the day when she was moving into the tiny block of flats.She had
known instantly he was gay.As he came rushing out the flat to help her with her
boxes, dressed in a garish pink t-shirt, she had done that thing that all
single women do when they meet a nice-looking bloke for the first time.Wedding
ring? No. Straight? Definitely not.
And knowing he wasn’t a potential boyfriend and that she
didn’t have to try to impress him eased the transition into their friendship
very quickly. He was loud, funny, kind and sweet.Over the first few days, as
she had got to know him, she became convinced that her suspicions about his
sexuality had been right.He had a huge collection of musicals, like Grease, Joseph and The Sound of
Music.And instead of a collection of boy movies like Die Hard or Pulp Fiction,
he had a vast repertoire of old classics such as Some Like it Hot, Brief
Encounter, The Seven Year Itch
and Operation Petticoat, dividing his
love of Marilyn Monroe and Cary Grant almost equally. His dubious taste in
music did nothing to change her mind.
She remembered the conversation they’d had about his
sexuality very vividly.They had known each other for about five weeks and had
almost been inseparable since she had moved in.Over dinner one night he had
quizzed her about past boyfriends. After a thorough grilling she’d turned the
tables on him.
‘So are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ she’d asked,
biting into the delicious lasagne he had cooked for them.
‘Nah, perpetually single me.’ He’d laughed.
She nodded. ‘I guess it’s tricky though, what with White
Cliff Bay being such a tiny town.’
‘Well yes, and most of the residents of White Cliff Bay are
over the age of fifty.’
‘No, I mean that there isn’t much opportunity to meet the
right sort of person round here, you should try Brighton, that’s got a great
nightlife.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘The gay capital of Britain?’
‘Exactly, there aren’t exactly a lot of gay bars round here,
I bet there aren’t even any in Apple Hill.’
He had frowned in confusion but she had blindly carried on.
‘Oooh,my cover designer lives in Brighton, he’s gorgeous,
hung like a horse apparently, or so says his ex-boyfriend. I could give you his
number, get him to take you out to all the best gay clubs, show you a good
time.’ She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
George choked on his lasagne and when he didn’t look like
stopping, she rushed to get him some water.She returned a few seconds later and
passed him the glass.
He had drunk greedily, then put his glass down and eyed her
across the table.‘Libby,’ he’d said firmly, ‘I’m not gay.’
It had been her turn to choke on the lasagne then. ‘You’re
not?’
He shook his head.
‘Oh God, George… I’m… I’m so sorry, I thoughtthe clothes,
the musicals, the old films…’
‘Well you thought wrong. Bloody hell, just because a bloke
isn’t sitting around scratching his testicles and watching rugby…’ he laughed
good naturedly. ‘It’s OK, though. You’re forgiven.’
She shook her head, laughing at her own narrow-mindedness,
suddenly the laugh dried in her throat.
‘Oh God,’ she gasped, her hands going to her mouth. ‘You’ve
seen me naked.’
He smirked. ‘Yes I have.’
‘But…’ she was aware she was now flapping her hands around,
‘I didn’t even think about walking from the shower to my bedroom without any
clothes on when you were waiting for me in the lounge. I mean, I just thought
you wouldn’t care, wouldn’t even notice.’
‘Oh I noticed all right, I just thought you were a very open
person.’
‘Oh God.’ She buried her face in her hands.
He laughed, loudly. ‘It’s your own fault, Libby Joseph, that
will teach you for judging a book by its cover.’
She had groaned in embarrassment as he continued to eat his
lasagne.
She watched him now as he picked up the last crumbs of his
bacon sandwich, and smiled.
‘Oh, I got you something,’ George said, passing over the brown
paper bag, before he started singing his own version of ‘Twelve Days of
Christmas’. ‘Ten days before Christmas
and my true love gave to me, a mug with a picture of the sea.’
Libby smiled. He had started this twelve days of presents
two days before when he had presented her with a Christmas pudding onesie
complete with a hood with a holly leaf and huge red berries sewed to the top.
The day before he had given her a big bag of rum and raisin fudge when they had
been shopping in the town, her favourite sweets in the world. She quickly tore
apart the paper and pulled out a mug that must have held at least a pint of
tea. It was the tackiest thing she had ever seen. It had a picture of White
Cliff Bay on the side but it wasn’t tasteful, it was bright and garish in
colour.
‘And look what happens when you pour hot water in it.’
George grabbed her tea and poured it inside. Straight away, lights started to
flash all over the mug, including on the oversized lighthouse, and a tinny
version of ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ drifted from some internal
speakers.
Libby laughed. ‘I love it,’ she said, honestly.
‘Now you have something to remember us by,’ he said,
glancing over at a few boxes in the hall and for a brief moment his face fell
with disappointment before he slapped on a smile. ‘How’s the packing going?’
‘There’s not a lot to be honest. The flat came with its own
furniture. There’s a few books and things I’ve acquired over the last few
months that I’ll probably take to a charity shop. I don’t really have stuff, I
don’t need it. I came with a suitcase of clothes and I’ll probably leave the
same way.’
‘That’s a bit sad, isn’t it? To have no belongings other
than the clothes on your back.’
Libby shrugged, happily. ‘Happiness doesn’t come from the
things you own, it comes from experiences, the things you do, the places you go
to, the people you meet. That’s what fills your life, not material
possessions.’
‘And you’ve never been tempted to stay in all those
beautiful places you’ve visited, you’ve never once found somewhere you could
call home?’
She smiled. ‘It doesn’t work like that for me. I have to
travel for work. Being an author means doing lots of research. Wherever my
story is set I always immerse myself in that place, eat, drink, sleep, breathe
it until the story is finished and I move on to the next place. I’ve always
worked like that, I probably always will.’
Suddenly a noise from above them disturbed their
conversation.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. SqueakSqueak,
SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak,
SqueakSqueakBang.
They both looked up.
‘Twice!?’ she muttered. ‘Seriously?Do they not have a TV in
their flat?’
SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueak, SqueakSqueakbang,
SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang, SqueakSqueakBang.
‘Oh!’
SqueakSqueakBang.
‘Oh!’
George chuckled. ‘They really are loud, aren’t they?’
She pulled a face.
‘Well come on, Lib, we can give them a run for their money.’
He stood up and pulled her towards her bedroom. Leaving her by the doorway he
leaped onto her bed, jumping up and down on it like a trampoline.The bed made a
satisfying squeaking sound and the headboard banged obligingly against the
wall.
She laughed at him. ‘Oh George,’ she moaned loudly, from the
doorway.
‘How long do you think my penis is?’ he hissed. ‘Get over
here.’
She ditched her dressing gown and walked over to the bed.
‘Christ, Lib, we’re only pretending, you don’t have to get
undressed.’ He stopped bouncing long enough to help her up onto the bed. They
both started bouncing again.
‘Oh George,’ she shouted, ‘that feels so goooood.’
‘Oh Libby,’ he groaned.
‘George, harder George. Oh God that’s it George. GEORGE!
Faster George.’
‘Libby, Libby, OH Libby.’He started jumping faster.
‘Spank me George, spank me.’
He spluttered with laughter.
‘Oh.’
‘OH.’
‘Oh God.’
‘OH.’
‘OHHHHHHHHH,’ moaned George, finally falling onto the bed
exhausted.She fell down next to him.
‘Oh George,’ she called loudly, ‘that was the best sex
ever.You’re amazing, big boy.’
‘Why thank you, Miss Joseph, glad you enjoyed it.’
‘No, you’re supposed to say something nice about me.’
‘Oh sorry, erm…’ He thought carefully. ‘Libby’ he said
loudly, ‘you have great tits.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Well it’s true, you do.’
‘Pervert.’ She smirked. ‘I just said that was the best sex
ever and all you can say is that I’ve got nice tits? Surely you can do better
than that?’
He rolled his eyes.‘Libby,’ he moaned loudly, ‘and Candy my
beauty, that was the best threesome I’ve ever had.’
She could barely talk for laughing. ‘Great, now I’m some
kind of sex-crazed porn star, excellent.’
‘Glad to be of service.’
‘And if they knew that Candy was that mannequin in your
bedroom, they would be worried.’
He chuckled.
They lay in silence for a while to see if there was any
reaction from the newlyweds.But there was none.Clearly they had been outdone.
Libby rolled onto her side, propping herself on her elbow to
look at him.She smiled at the self-satisfied look on his face, as if they
really had just had sex.
‘Fancy a walk?’ she said.
‘Yeah of course.’
‘Well get out my bedroom then so I can get dressed.’
‘Aw, am I never going to get a repeat performance of your
nudity?’ he said as he walked out.
‘Nope never.’ She laughed as she closed the door behind him.
‘That’s a shame,’ George said to the closed door, ‘because I
really rather enjoyed it.’
*
Despite it being the middle of winter, the sun was making a
desperate attempt to warm up the windy shore. Great gusts tore at their clothes
and whipped their hair around them as they walked along the almost deserted
beach nestled in Silver Cove.The only other person on there was Seb, throwing a
ball into the surf for his beloved fat retriever Jack to collect.He waved at
them as they walked.
George loved White Cliff Bay, with its tiny thatched
cottages, the bigger townhouses, and the great Bubble and Froth, Seb’s pub,
with the best-tasting ale in the world. He especially loved the quieter part of
Silver Cove where he and Libby lived.It literally consisted of one straight
road with houses on one side looking out on to the sea. There was a pub, a
small shop and that was it. A five-minute walk up the hill and over the
headland led to the main town of White Cliff Bay with all the local amenities.
He and Libby crunched over the pebbles towards one of the
many rock pools that had formed on the beach.She crouched down and carefully
lifted one of the big rocks to see what was under it.A small pearly grey hermit
crab scurried out in protest at being disturbed and a pale yellow starfish, its
legs struck out at odd angles to its body, pulsated against the mossy rock
face.
‘I do love the starfish.They’re so beautiful, like a little
bit of magic washed up on the beach.’She put the rock down gently, and picked
up another one.
He watched her with a smile, her dark hair streaming behind
her like a banner, her large green eyes filled with a continual wonder at the
varied sea life that ended up on Silver Cove beach every day.
‘If you like starfish, you’ll love the sunstar, now they’re
beautiful.I’ll have to take you scuba diving one day, Lib, there’s so much more
beauty out there under the waves.’
She stood up. ‘I’d love that. Would we find seahorses? I’d
love to see one.’
‘I doubt it – there are some breeds that live round Britain,
but they’re so shy and timid I doubt we would spot any.But there’s loads of
other things we would see, the visibility round here is quite spectacular.’
‘But doesn’t it take ages to learn?’
‘I can teach you the basics, and I’d look after you. Besides,
we wouldn’t be going that deep, only six or eight metres, so if anything went
wrong you could just come straight back up.’
‘That would be so exciting, do you have the gear?’
‘No but a mate of mine runs a dive shop in White Cliff Bay,
he’d lend me what we need.’
‘Be a bit cold though, would we wear wetsuits?’
‘Are you kidding, in these waters?We would die.It’d have to
be a drysuit, and a thermal undersuit and your clothes under that.’
She laughed. ‘I’d look like a Michelin Man.’
‘Yeah. It’ll be better in the spring, warmer and the
visibility is nicer too. If you stay until then I promise to take you.’
‘Maybe I can come back and visit you when it’s warmer.’
‘That would be great,’ George said, knowing in his heart
that once she left at the end of the year he’d never see her again. They never
spoke about that though. She insisted that they would stay in touch, but there
were no friends in her life, no one she spoke to from her travels. When he had
put his number in her phone all those months before he had been stunned to see
her contacts list consisted of her agent and her publisher. It was easier to
pretend they would still be friends than confront it, it was easier to ignore
that when she left it would completely and utterly break his heart.
He carried on with the façade. ‘You have to spit in the mask
to stop it from steaming up too.’
Her face fell. ‘Spit in my mask?’
He wiped a tiny splash of muddy water off her face, then
quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked away from her. ‘Yeah, and
no matter if you get the best-fitting mask in the world, you always get a bit
of water that seeps through, which means when you take the mask off you’ll be
left with a snotty residue across your face.’
She caught up with him, picking up a good-shaped pebble for
skimming. ‘I get the feeling scuba diving isn’t the sexiest sport then?’
‘No definitely not, still keen?’ He turned to face her.
‘Absolutely.’
He loved that about Libby: her spirit of adventure, her
boundless energy.In fact he loved every little thing about her, and had been
completely in love with her ever since he first set eyes on her.
Unrequited love, he was quite the expert. As it turned out
even his ex-wife hadn’t loved him.
Libby, of course, had no idea about his inappropriate
feelings for her, how he loved her with everything he had.
He glanced over at her, her smile lighting up her face, her
eyes reflecting the colour of the sea. It was about time he got over Libby. She
just didn’t see him that way. Nothing was ever going to happen there, she was
leaving in just over two weeks. By the end of the year he was determined he
would be over this silly little crush and he could watch her leave without her
ripping out his heart on the way out.
*
They walked back towards the flats, a large old house that
had long ago been converted into four separate apartments and given the rather
original name of ‘Sea View Court’.
George spotted a small van parked up outside.An older man
was lifting a box out the back.
‘Giselle?’ the man called. ‘Giselle? Where do you want this
one to go?’
A blonde girl ran down the steps wearing leggings, which showed
off her wonderful long legs, and a tiny knitted jumper, which showed off her
tiny waist.George swallowed.Her hair was cut short with a long fringe that
swept over her eyes, but it gleamed in the sun, like gold.Her eyes were huge,
an amazing intense blue.She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.He
knew without a doubt this was the woman he was going to marry. The easiest,
quickest way to fall out of love with one unobtainable woman was fall in love
with another.
‘Oh thanks, Dad,’ the blonde vision said, ‘just put it in
the lounge. I’ll sort it out once it’s all in.’
‘Hey, do you want some help?’ George asked, quickly leaving
Libby’s side.
‘Oh, that’d be great, thanks.’ Giselle broke into a heart-stopping
smile.
‘I’m George.’ He held out his hand. ‘I live at number two.’
‘I’m Giselle, and I’m on top of you.’ She tucked a strand of
golden silk behind her ear. ‘I’m moving into number four.’
He ignored the innuendo for the sake of future relations.
‘Excellent.’ He took the hand that was now extended towards him and shook it
warmly, just as Libby arrived at the back of the van.
‘Hi, I’m Libby, I live at number one, here let me take
those,’ she said indicating the pile of books tucked under Giselle’s arm and he
watched her take them, and then she was gone. He wondered what they looked like
standing there, him and Giselle, smiling at each other awkwardly.Well, Giselle
was smiling awkwardly, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.A Cheshire cat on
Ecstasy.
For the next half an hour, they worked diligently between
them to get all of Giselle’s stuff into her flat on the second floor.There
wasn’t a lot, but what there was, he noticed, was very tasteful. There was also
a lot of weird cooking paraphernalia which Libby found out was used for making
different kinds of sweets for her online business.
Eventually, the van was empty and Giselle’s dad left.
‘Thank you so much,’ Giselle said warmly, ‘you’ve both been
very kind. But now, well, I guess I better go and unpack. I’ll see you around.’
She disappeared up the stairs and George stared after her in
wonderment.He heard her flat door close and then quickly bundled Libby into her
flat.
‘George, what are you doing?’
‘Oh Lib, she’s beautiful.’ He leaned against the inside of
the door and sank to the floor.
‘Yes she is, very.’
‘Libby, I think I’m in love.’
She sat down next to him and gave him a playful nudge. ‘Then
go and ask her out.’
‘Are you mad, have you seen me?’
She frowned. ‘George, you’re lovely.’
‘Lovely is a polite way of saying fat.’ He absently patted
his belly.
‘No, it’s not, you’re lovely and funny and incredibly
attractive, ask her out.’
‘No, I need to lose some weight first, and get a haircut,
maybe some new clothes.’
‘But then you won’t be you any more. This is you, and you’re
perfect the way you are, anything else will just be a disguise.If she’s going
to fall in love with you, she needs to fall in love with the real you.You above
anyone else should know the pitfalls of false advertising.’
Writing radio adverts for a living, George knew how to sell
chocolate to the Easter bunny, if only he himself could be presented in such an
appealing way.
‘You’re right, Lib, she
should fall in love with the real me.’ He looked down at himself, despondently.
‘Hey! You’re the loveliest, most wonderful, sweetest,
kindest person I know; if she can’t see that then she’s blind.’
He kissed her head. ‘Thanks Lib.’
She stood up and pulled him to his feet. ‘Go on then, ask
her.’
He paled. ‘Now? No, I can’t ask her now.’
‘Yes you can.’
‘Well what do I say?’
‘You say, “Hi Giselle, I figured you might be tired after
all this unpacking, do you fancy coming to the pub for something to eat? The
Bubble and Froth does a mean steak and kidney pie.”’
He nodded, yes he could do that.That was easy.Very casual,
very simple.He opened the door and walked purposefully up the stairs and caught
Libby doing a little giddy victory dance for him before she shut the door.
He climbed to the top of the first flight then hurried back
down again, but before he reached the bottom stair he forced himself to turn
around.He climbed four stairs this time, stopped, climbed one more stair then
ran back to the safety of Libby’s flat.
Her face fell as he came back in. ‘What happened?’
‘Yeah, I couldn’t do it.’
‘George!’
‘Well what if she said no?’
‘What if she didn’t?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll leave it a few days, you know, let
her settle in.’
‘Maybe you should get in now before someone else swoops in.
Why don’t you practise on me?’
‘What?’
‘Close your eyes and ask me out, imagine I’m a beautiful
woman.’
George smiled wryly – he really didn’t need to imagine that
– but he closed his eyes anyway.He could still see her though, in his mind,
looking pretty in her jeans and hoodie, and funky purple boots.She had a quirky
style.When she was writing her romance stuff she always had at least one pen in
her hair.And though the hoodie she wore today was an old grey one, she had
pinned to it the most beautiful emerald sequinned flowered brooch.It matched
her eyes exactly.Though this was not helping him to prepare for asking Giselle
out.
He opened one eye and looked at her expectant face.When
nothing was forthcoming, she rolled her eyes and ushered him out of the flat.
‘Knock on my door and ask me out.’
‘OK, role-play, I like it,’ he grinned, ‘though I’ll get
changed first, smarten myself up a bit.’
She shrugged. ‘If it will make you feel
more comfortable.’
*
As George disappeared back to his flat, Libby switched on
her laptop and smiled at the tiny snowman that had been placed next to it since
the day before. George was clearly determined to Christmassify her, whether she
liked it or not. The computer pinged to life and she opened up her current
story, set in a rural seaside town at Christmas. Her publishers had expected it
to be handed in months ago but for some reason this story had stagnated on her
laptop. She had no desire to finish it and she didn’t know why. She was famous
for her romance stories, especially Christmas ones with snow, glitter, handsome
heroes and gorgeously cosy love stories, but it was the romance parts she was
having trouble with the most.
There was a knock on the door and she went to answer it,
ready to be seduced.
George was standing there in a full tuxedo with black tie,
and gleaming cufflinks.She nearly laughed except he looked so vulnerable.
He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, fixed her
with a sultry stare. ‘Hey little lady, fancy getting out of this hellhole and
hitting some gin joints with me?’
She suppressed a laugh, but he had already seen the smirk.
‘Too cheesy?’
‘Very cheesy. Humphrey Bogart?’
‘No, that was all me.’
‘You’re overthinking it.’
‘What about the suit?’
‘You look fantastic, really suave, really sexy, but a tiny
bit overdressed for a pint down the Bubble.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Sexy, eh?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, if we were going to Royal Ascot together,
I’d be proud to have you on my arm.’
‘Right, I’ll remember that next time I get offered free
tickets for Royal Ascot. You can be my date.’
‘Definitely, though you should know I’m a terrible loser and
a really bad gambler.’
‘I’ll hold the purse strings that day then.’
She nodded. ‘Probably wise.’
‘Shall I try on something else?’
‘Yes, please do.’
‘Good, this collar is killing me.’
‘I’m impressed that you can do up a bow tie though, it’s not
something many people can do.’
He took it off to show her it was a clip-on.She laughed, as
she closed the door.
She walked back to the computer, her fingers hovering over a
rather bland description of the sea. It wasn’t just romance scenes that were
taking a battering, all of her latest writing lacked sparkle.Because she had no
enthusiasm for the romance, the rest of it hung limp and flaccid on the pages
too.
There was another knock on the door just as she was poised
to write something descriptive and wintery about the trees that lined the
beach.
This time George was dressed in a black suit, with a black
shirt and tie.
‘Going to a funeral?’
‘Right of course,’ he said, looking a little apologetic.
‘How about something that shows your sporty side?’
‘Right, OK.’ He trudged off.
She closed the door again – not that it normally stopped
George, but making him knock was all part of the role-play.
She went back to the computer, looked over the last
paragraph she had written and sighed.
Another knock on her door.She doubled over with laughter
when she opened it.
‘What?’ mumbled George, though she could see that he was
trying not to laugh as well. He was dressed in a skin-tight wetsuit which
accentuated every gorgeous curve of his strong body, with a mask and snorkel in
his mouth and flippers on his feet.
‘George, it’s perfect,’ she said, clapping her hands
together, trying really hard to keep her eyes above his waist. ‘Now let me see
you manage the stairs in those things.’
He waddled carefully to the foot of the stairs and carefully
placed his left flipper sideways on the step.With great effort he managed to
put his right flipper sideways on the next one up,looking like a very bizarrely
dressed Charlie Chaplin.
It was at this moment, as he struggled to move his left
flipper up onto the third stair, that Giselle came running down the stairs
towards him.
Giveaway
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