What better time than Christmas to believe in miracles?
Holidays can be tough when you’re recently single, but luckily for Sienna Sanderson working at Silverberry Hall means she is fully booked for Christmas. For the last few years she has helped Freddie and Elizabeth Blakesley run their beautiful manor and organising their legendary holiday bash has become the highlight of her year.
Nestled in a sleepy Cotswolds village, the Christmas Party at Silverberry Hall has become one of Darlingham’s most cherished traditions. But this year is different. With Freddie’s recent passing, they all need it to be extra special in his honour. Sienna is determined to go all out. There is going to be a festive play, carol singers, and a lavish Christmas buffet in the charming old stone barn.
She is more than up for the challenge, but when Elizabeth learns of an adult grandson she never knew existed and asks Sienna to find him, she may have bitten off more than she can chew. Luckily, Oliver Townsend, the enigmatic and handsome set designer, seems more than eager to lend a hand…
But as the party fast approaches, can Sienna track Elizabeth’s grandson in time for Christmas? Perhaps miracles really do happen when you least expect them…
Release date: 8 October, 2024.
Available on multiple platforms in various formats. For Amazon UK and US click on the buy links below:
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READ CHAPTER ONE:
Darlingham village, in the Cotswolds
Wednesday, 4th October
Sienna Sanderson
Planning an Old-Fashioned Christmas
Watching my maternal grandma, Charlotte, chattering away with her best friend – and my employer, Elizabeth Blakesley – you’d think they were young girls rather than a year away from celebrating their seventy-fifth birthdays. They never fail to amaze me and I head off to get some refreshments to give them a little time to themselves. Today they’re in full-on planning mode and there’s a buzz in the air.
What began as a Christmas Eve bash for the lively bunch of ladies who live in Darlingham village has, over the years, turned into the biggest party of the festive season for miles around. It’s hosted here at Elizabeth’s home, the stately Silverberry Hall, in the beautifully renovated barn that stands in the lavish, manicured grounds.
The estate borders the delightful River Severn as it travels inland. Nestled in the heart of a quintessential English village, the Hall’s beautiful honey-coloured stone buildings, extensive cottage gardens and vast woodlands are a rare jewel.
To the front of what was at one time an amply proportioned vicarage, the main building is set within an attractive walled area lined with copious trees and shrubs. Off to one side is a sweeping drive abutting generous parking facilities. The main building is believed to date back to the eighteenth century and with its slate roofs, dormer windows and stately chimney stacks, it’s a handsome property.
Elizabeth has caterers in to put on a sumptuous buffet and the guest list continues to grow year on year. We’ve had everything from a string quartet and inspiring harpists to heart-stopping a cappella performances, in addition to the opportunity to dance the night away at a truly sparkling event.
There is a tinge of sadness to it this year, though, as it’s also a tribute to Elizabeth’s late husband, Frederic. As Elizabeth’s personal assistant, I sometimes get invited to the regular lunches with the ladies and it’s always an experience to remember. They plan charitable events and fund-raisers, but inevitably they also share all the latest news.
The usual things . . . who has upset whom, complaints about walkers straying off public footpaths and the latest hot topic – speculation over the love interests of the locum veterinary surgeon. Following a retirement, he’s providing cover until a permanent replacement can be found. Xavier Martinez is in his early forties, part Spanish and with enough of an accent to make a woman go weak at the knees; he’s also single and drop-dead gorgeous. If he so much as accepts a cup of coffee in someone’s house it’s cause for speculation – sick animal to tend to, or not.
When I carry the tea tray into the sitting room, Elizabeth looks up, giving me a knowing smile.
‘Where would I be without your wonderful granddaughter, Charlotte?’ Elizabeth lowers her voice, reaching out to touch Grandma’s arm. ‘Georgina has been my housekeeper now for eighteen months and she still doesn’t know how to brew a proper pot of tea. It’s never strong enough, so it’s a treat when Sienna steps in.’
Grandma winks at me and Elizabeth laughs.
‘Georgina thinks it’s bad for you,’ I repeat, for the umpteenth time. ‘I did look it up online and maybe she’s right. These days with soil contamination and heavy metals affecting the plants, it’s all about everything in moderation.’
They both happily drink three cups in one sitting and Christmas at Silverberry Hall while Georgina means well, it’s a lost cause. It’s not so much the amount of tea per se, but the number of biscuits they consume with it. I can’t argue that healthy smoothies full of vitamins and minerals are a good tonic at any age. However, I will admit the green ones do taste a little too earthy. I’m pretty sure that Georgina only makes those for me though, to balance out the ready meals I often end up grabbing. Well, at the end of a busy day who has time to head home and cook for one?
They both stare back at me, shaking their heads. ‘Everyone has to die of something,’ Elizabeth points out. ‘And we’ve lasted this long on copious cups of tea.’
I try not to roll my eyes. And a generous gin and tonic as soon as the clock chimes four in the afternoon. Go figure! But these two stalwarts of the community have a fair number of years left in them yet. It’s true that six months on, Elizabeth is still battling to come to terms with losing her soul mate Freddie, but anyone who was close to him feels that loss too. He was a kind man, with a larger-than-life personality and a big heart. So far as I’m concerned, my boss can have as many cups of tea as she wants. You can only live life one day at a time and, as Freddie would have expected, she’s putting a brave face on working through the painful grieving process.
‘Right, ladies, I’m ready to take notes.’ I settle myself down into the armchair opposite them, opening my iPad and connecting the keyboard. ‘What have you decided?’
They shuffle pieces of paper around the coffee table in the rather grand orangery, with its proliferation of plants creating a wonderfully relaxing ambience. The large Victorian addition to the rear of the property is my favourite room in Silverberry Hall. With its dwarf stone walls, low-pitched lantern roof and large glass panelled picture windows, it’s the perfect setting in which to sit and unwind. I wait patiently while there’s a bit of back-and-forth chatter between them. I can’t wait to hear what they’ll come up with this time around. It’s just as well that Christmas is my favourite time of the year and I’m sure I’ll be up to the challenge, whatever ideas they throw at me.
My mind wanders as they continue to natter away. They’re two very strong personalities and they don’t always agree. However, they’re only on their first cup of tea so this could take a while.
When Freddie and Elizabeth offered me a position as their personal assistant, the truth is that they rescued me. It wasn’t just as a favour to Grandma because the two women had known each other since they were children, and I was able to quite quickly take over some of the mundane jobs to lessen their load.
After having dropped out at the end of the first year of a BSc course in marketing at the University of Bristol, Mum and Grandma tried hard to hide their concern for my state of mind. They both did their best to reassure me that I was still discovering who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. They were confident that if I took a year off, I’d return to university refreshed.
But after working my way through a quick succession of temporary jobs, it was Freddie who persuaded me that both he and Elizabeth needed some assistance. It was mainly general admin associated with the various committees they were heavily involved in at the time, as well as tasks related to running such a large property. ‘Who better than you?’ he’d insisted. Being someone they regarded almost as family, I could be relied upon to be discreet, and they felt comfortable having me around.
However, I’m guessing the real reason I initially got the job was the pity factor; in hindsight it’s obvious that Freddie had no intention of letting me waste my life. The upside was that once I was on board my role expanded way beyond anyone’s expectations and that’s how I paid them back for their kindness.
After a distinguished career in London as a consultant neurologist, Freddie retired almost fifteen years ago. For Elizabeth, returning to the village in which she grew up was like coming home after a lifetime away. Being within an hour’s drive of her two brothers was also a bonus. With my grandma Charlotte living close by, Freddie knew his wife would be happy. Elizabeth had long admired Silverberry Hall and the moment they both walked up the curving path to the front door, Freddie was sold on it too.
He was gifted when it came to that old-fashioned bedside manner, relaxing his patients whether the news was good, or bad. And he recognised in me that something wasn’t right. I was a twenty-year-old at a crossroads and I could so easily have gone off the rails. So, for the last seven years I’ve been an integral part of this busy household. When Freddie fell, breaking his hip and his left arm, we all thought he’d battle through it. But a month later, in April of this year, he contracted pneumonia and went downhill so fast it took us all by surprise.
‘I think we’re agreed that the dress code is an old-fashioned Christmas this year. Freddie would approve and I so wish we’d thought of it last year,’ Elizabeth replies, sadly.
Grandma nods her head in agreement, heaving a gentle sigh.
‘I’ll get to work drafting the invitations for your approval,’ I reply. There’s always a colour or theme to inspire what is regarded as quite a glamorous affair, with cocktail dresses and suits. Last year it was tartan and there were sashes, ties, jackets and shawls, but no one was brave enough to wear a kilt. In all honesty, being on the banks of the River Severn, the winds here can be bitingly cold. And we get a lot of black ice and snow, so people tend to wrap up warmly.
‘Bygone days,’ Grandma mutters. ‘It was less commercial and a lot more fun.’
Elizabeth gives a wistful smile. ‘Freddie would want everyone’s spirits to be high and what better way to do that than to turn back the clock and indulge in a little nostalgia?’
They both look at me expectantly as I mull it over.
‘We could get the caterers to set up a hog roast in the courtyard, you know, under the old brick shelter if we clean it up. Perhaps we can have a small group of carollers wandering around and a station with hot toddies and hot chocolate . . .’
The two women look at each other, grinning.
‘How about a cart with roasted chestnuts?’ Grandma suggests. ‘Imagine the smell!’
Elizabeth’s eyes light up. ‘Oh, that would be delightful. I love the idea of both indoor and outdoor entertainment this year.’
‘The carollers can’t sing throughout the entire evening,’ Grandma points out.
‘You’re right, Charlotte. We’ll have our usual music man come along, so people can dance after the buffet. We could ask the carollers to dress up in Victorian costumes to add to the atmosphere.’
‘How about reaching out to an amateur dramatics club to get a handful of performers in to enact a scene, or two, from a Christmas play?’ I suggest, boldly.
Both Elizabeth and Grandma draw in a sharp breath.
‘Perfect!’ they reply, in unison.
By the end of our brainstorming session, I have a lengthy list of ideas to flesh out and Operation Christmas is about to begin. The main thing is that Elizabeth and Grandma Charlotte are both happy; turning the party into a nostalgic and heartwarming spectacle might be just what’s needed to get everyone through it with a smile on their faces. Freddie loved entertaining people and was the joker at every party, so we can’t let him down.
It’s time to set the wheels in motion and start reaching out to people. I do love turning a list into a master plan and this year’s event is dear to my heart. As a teenager, I was consistently inconsistent; how ironic that a decade later, I’m regarded as a skilled organiser. If you’re looking down on us, Freddie, I’ve got this. And I know that thought will put a huge smile on your face.
***
It’s Saturday night and I shouldn’t be working, but I have a major problem with the main highlight that will kick off the evening celebrations. I press the phone icon and let it ring five times, then disconnect; it’s a secret code whenever I need help. My best friend, Daniela, will be putting my godchildren to bed, but as soon as she’s free she’ll call me back.
While I sit and wait, I pore over the spreadsheet on the screen. The lengthy to-do list is beginning to shape up nicely for the party but having spent three days reaching out to a list of amateur dramatic clubs within an increasingly wide radius, naturally, they’re all busy rehearsing for the upcoming season. With only just over eleven weeks until the big day is here I know it’s a tall order, but unless I can get something tied up quickly it’s going to leave me with a major gap in the programme.
Finally, my phone lights up. ‘Sorry I missed your call. William took ages to settle down. He’s teething. And then Clara wanted two stories and, as you know, she always picks the long ones.’ Poor Daniela sounds exhausted.
‘I thought Nigel was due back yesterday?’
‘Hmph. So did I, until he phoned late last night to say they’ve hit a problem. Something to do with one of the signatories on a contract not being available, which is delaying funds being sent to Italy. Building work has stopped on the development and he’s flying out tomorrow to get it sorted. Anyway, what’s going on with you? Why aren’t you out with the girls sipping cocktails and enjoying your freedom?’
It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes at her. Since Liam arrived in my life, the number of times I joined in with the girls’ nights out I could probably count on one hand. That thought makes me chuckle.
‘The group has shrunk considerably and you can’t talk! How often do you go along?’ We started out as a group of about a dozen or so, but half have since moved away from the area and three are now married with children, rarely putting in an appearance.
Aside from Daniela, the only two schoolmates that I’m still close with are Ruby from our local pub and Lottie, who works at the vet’s surgery, mainly because our paths cross quite frequently. Neither of them have ever been in a serious, long-term relationship, which means they still know how to party! As for me, letting my hair down means something totally different these days.
Daniela shrugs her shoulders. ‘I know . . . but I’m not single, am I?’ she points out and I get it but I’m just not ready. ‘You’re not missing Liam . . . are you?’ She mutters a soft groan. ‘Sorry, I spoke before I had a chance to engage my brain.’
Since I broke off our engagement at the start of the summer, it’s only recently that Liam has given up sending me texts at odd hours of the day and night. Naturally, he’s sorry that he took me for granted but I’m even sorrier I fell for his charm in the first place.
‘No. He had his chance, and he blew it when he cheated on me. But my head isn’t in the right place and I don’t want to be the one sitting in the corner nursing a drink and wondering what I’m doing, Daniela.’
An empathetic ‘oh’ echoes down the line. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on a downer. So, what’s the emergency?’
‘I’m hoping that you can do me a huge favour. I sort of promised something before checking it was doable.’
There’s a little groan. ‘Is this work? Don’t you have anything better to do on a Saturday night?’
I glance around the cosy sitting room in my bijou cottage and I’m grateful. It’s one of the estate’s former farm-workers’ cottages that used to be rented out. Oakleigh is now my home, at least for the foreseeable future. Elizabeth had the decorators in to give it a fresh lick of paint and it’s infinitely better than the house I shared with Liam for nearly two years. It’s in the heart of the village and rent-free, which is a boost to my savings. My aim is to get a substantial deposit together so that one day soon I’ll be able to afford to buy a place of my own.
‘It’s cold and it’s raining; I love sitting in front of the log fire relaxing and . . . thinking.’
‘Hmm. You mean tapping away on the keyboard. It sounds more like hibernating to me when you should be out there, socialising. Anyway, normally you use the word “little” when you want something, so “huge” is worrying.’
‘It’s for a good cause,’ I assure her. ‘Elizabeth has expanded this year’s guest list to include some of Freddie’s old friends, who live further afield. Plus, she’ll have a full house of family members to cope with in addition to the party, which is going to be bigger than last year’s spectacle.’
‘I know how much the Christmas party means to the village, but everyone would understand if she didn’t feel up for it this year. She’s still coming to terms with life without Freddie there beside her.’
A sigh escapes my lips. ‘She’s determined to honour him in this way and Elizabeth prides herself on being the ultimate host. In her words, it’ll stop her “wallowing”. I told her that I thought she was being hard on herself. With two brothers, her nieces and nephews and their offspring to rally around her, she was never going to be alone this Christmas but she’s a woman on a mission.’
‘Elizabeth is one determined lady, for sure.’
‘She wants everyone to remember Freddie in a happy way. Unlike the celebration of his life after the funeral.’ I grimace to myself. Yes, people shed tears, but sobbing out loud when the widow herself is trying to be stoic is out of order. And there were two of them, distant relatives of Freddie’s, who made a spectacle of themselves.
‘Oh, Sienna. Elizabeth is like a social butterfly, isn’t she? She flits from person to person, ensuring her guests have everything they need and making introductions. It was Freddie who was the real conversationalist, wasn’t it? He’d happily talk about every subject under the sun, but he had the knack of making people smile even when their opinions differed. Her eyes were always on him, no matter what else she was doing, or how far apart they were in a room. It’s going to test her to the limit. So, this favour is to do with the party?’
‘Yes. I rashly suggested it would be a marvellous idea to enact a couple of scenes from a play. Something suitably festive, naturally.’
There’s a loud splutter. ‘Are you mad? You do know that at this time of the year all of the amateur dramatic clubs are in rehearsal. Many of them go straight from a pre-Christmas farce into pantomime season.’
Inwardly, I’m groaning and I’m glad she can’t see the look of despair on my face. ‘Well . . . I didn’t really think it through, but Elizabeth and Grandma Charlotte are already telling everyone we have something extra special planned.’
‘Oh, so just because I have contacts, you think I can whip up a troupe to stage a little play? That’s in between chasing William around to stop him putting everything he can find in his mouth, and making sure Clara isn’t up to mischief in my makeup drawer?’
We both burst out laughing. Last Saturday I spent the day with the three of them. When Daniela’s husband, Nigel, is away for more than a couple of days, she struggles. So, I babysit while she takes an afternoon off to pamper herself.
She was having a leisurely bubble bath and enjoying one of those relaxing cucumber face masks, when I realised Clara was nowhere to be seen. I’d been fussing over Pixie, the cutest caramel-coloured Yorkshire terrier in the world, who had run off with one of little William’s toys. It’s not easy placating an eighteen-month-old and when he burst into tears it took a minute or two to distract him. Then I noticed that Clara had disappeared. Hoisting the lad up onto my hip and getting him to stay there while we went in search of his sister, rather than Pixie, wasn’t easy. I was hot and bothered, and worried about the noise as he began to sob his heart out. Ugh, it was a bit of a nightmare.
‘I took my eyes off Clara for two minutes,’ I admit. When I found her, she simply smiled at me – her face was a picture. It was a rainbow of colours, and it wasn’t easy getting all of that makeup off.
‘Two minutes in which she discovered a treasure trove and now I’ve had to get a carpenter in to put a lock on my bedroom door.’
‘No!’ I breathe out sharply, feeling guilty.
‘Yes. She paid another little trip there the day before yesterday and I’ve had to chuck virtually the whole lot out. And waterproof mascara on carpet isn’t a good mix. I’ve ordered a rug to cover it up.’
‘I’m so, so sorry and I didn’t mean to laugh. She just looked so happy and so . . .’
‘Colourful,’ Daniela giggles. ‘I’ll forgive you. You do need eyes in the back of your head. She got into the fridge the other day and decided she was going to make an omelette in her play saucepan. Why do you think I’m so exhausted all the time?’
‘I understand. When’s Nigel due back?’
‘Wednesday, fingers crossed. I’ve already warned him he might need to get his mother over to lend a hand as I’m going to take a couple of days off.’
I’m trying really hard to suppress a chuckle. Out of the two of us, I was the one who dreamt of having a family, Daniela was unashamedly in search of a man who could keep her in the lifestyle to which she wanted to become accustomed; I don’t think she’d thought any further ahead than that. Now she has a big country house on the edge of Darlingham, but having two children in such quick succession is more to do with Nigel being such a charmer and so dashingly handsome. I mean, what woman could resist?
The problem is that when you fall in love with someone, you find yourself doing the daftest of things. For Daniela, she admitted it was coming off birth control before she fully appreciated what she was letting herself in for. For me, it was getting engaged and moving in with Liam, even though something didn’t feel quite right. It was a shock to discover that he has a roving eye and thinks a one-night stand doesn’t count. I should listen to my gut instincts more often.
‘You’re not judging me, are you?’ Daniela checks.
‘Goodness, no. Children are a handful. I only had them for three hours and look how I messed up!’
She lets out a sigh of satisfaction. ‘But they do put a big smile on our faces, don’t they? Sometimes I think I don’t deserve them; they run circles around me, and I’m supposed to be the one in charge.’
‘Aww . . . I’m sure a lot of mums feel that way,’ I empathise. ‘You gave up a lot to have them and it will get easier. Won’t it?’
‘That’s what some of the other mums at the nursery say. I live in hope. As for your problem, I’m not making any promises, but I’ll see what I can do. It could be a nice distraction for me, actually. We all miss Freddie; he was one of the good ones and if Elizabeth wants the party of all parties, then I’ll make a few calls to see if it’s doable.’
‘Thanks, Daniela – and Freddie was one in million.’ I stop short of adding that I don’t know where I’d be now if it weren’t for him…
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