Luckily, local gardener Rhys arrived at that moment with a beautiful and fragrant Fraser fir for the shop and Daisy saw her escape,leaving the men to carry the tree over to the awaiting stand at one end of the Butterbury Sewing Box.
Daisy made her way from the shop towards Lantern Square. The big switch on of the Christmas lights at the end of November had been as special as it was every year, with the huge tree in the corner of the square, an iron-railing surrounding space with flowerbeds, pathways and grassed areas. Therewere illuminated wooden creatures dotted around, including a hedgehog in the flowerbed she could spot now from the other side of the railings and a lit-up reindeer closer to one of the gates to access the square. Butterbury always did Christmas well and Daisy, despite any reservations about the daily grind, loved living in the village and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. It wasn’t too busy,it wasn’t a big town or city, and being nestled in the Cotswolds meant they were close to rolling hills, picturesque villages and some of the best walking trails the country had to offer.
Daisy made her way past Lantern Square and up the hill on the opposite side that led out to acres of beautiful countryside. She reached Butterbury Lodge at the top of the hill and unlatched the little gate atthe front of the path, closed it behind her, and paused to look at the view that even in winter was impressive with the village spread out and the square situated in the dip before a hill led out in the opposite direction towards farmland. The Abney farm made up part of the land and past their business was another fruit and vegetable farm, owned by another local family, slightly smaller, but equallyas popular. Living in Butterbury you were never short of fresh produce supplies and Daisy hoped it would always be that way.
Daisy said good morning to Hannah in passing. Not too dissimilar to Daisy in age, Hannah was engaged to the local doctor and ran Tied Up with String, a care package business that had become increasingly popular. Hannah hadn’t lived in the village all that long but she’dsettled in quickly enough and volunteered up here at the lodge. She’d grown close to Mr G, one of the elderly residents and one of the chattiest men Daisy had ever met, and Daisy smiled as she went in through the front entrance, knowing Mr G had met his match with Ivor. The two of them would keep the staff here on their toes, that was for sure.
Once she’d signed in at reception she found Ivorin the expansive lounge at the rear of the property. The residents all had their own rooms and differing needs, yet help was on hand, company too, if that’s what you were after, in communal areas like this. Out of the window past the Christmas tree that brought a waft of pine and the season into the room were pretty gardens, a pond and a fountain that, on quieter days, you could listen to as it trickledwater in a soothing fashion. The lodge was so much more than a care home. The residents had access to a book club, cookery classes, and Charles Bray, a local man who’d lived in the square until moving here, had requested someone come in to provide dance lessons, which were starting at the end of the year. Now, thanks to Ivor’s influence, many of the residents were beginning to embrace theircreative side. Daisy had started coming here to the lodge at the beginning of the year as a favour to him, to spread the love of sewing, knitting and quilting. She’d thought the initial session would be it, but so many people flocked to her after her spiel, asking about learning some new skills, that she volunteered to make it a more regular thing and give some basic lessons. She might not be passionateabout it all like her mother was but she still enjoyed coming here or giving the lessons in the workshop above the shop. Some residents she found were grumpier than others, a few didn’t converse much, but on the whole they were good company.
‘What have you brought for us today?’ Ivor sat in the chair beside the window and adjusted the cushion behind him. He moved well for a man of eighty-eightand although he hadn’t needed to come here, he had made the move before Loretta could worry herself into making him live with them. He’d confided in Daisy that such an arrangement would’ve totally cramped his style.
Daisy pushed her gloves into her coat pocket on the back of another chair and then opened up each of the carrier bags she’d brought with her to reveal a rainbow of coloured ballsof wool. ‘I’ve been sneaking these now and then over the last few weeks, as usual, but Mum spotted me with the bags today.’ She’d been taking one or two balls here and there, adding the money to the till as though a customer had made the purchases, and built up a decent collection every time she did it. She was usually more careful and zipped home to grab the bags rather than stashing them at theshop, but today she’d been too pushed for time and hadn’t thought her mum would take that much interest in what she had in a couple of nondescript bags.
‘Don’t blow our cover,’ Ivor urged.
‘I won’t,’ she giggled. They’d been working on something rather special since Easter when her grandad first formed a sewing group – that Daisy now knew was called Oldies in Stitches – up at the lodge. Everyonewas in on it, the secretiveness was all part of the fun and Daisy loved spending so much time with her grandad. With her dad, it had been camping and the great outdoors, but with Ivor it was this.
Ivor took out the four balls of pillar-box red wool, the end of a batch she’d got cheap, and enough for what they still needed to do. He, Mr G and Ernest who’d come to join them waded through the bagsadmiring the rest of the colours.
Daisy thought about what her mum had said to her about Grandad and she was right. Ivor did deserve to have his entire family together for Christmas, all three of his granddaughters in the one place at the one time on an occasion that usually brought people together. Except Daisy knew that while it was nice in theory, unfortunately Christmas was also a time ofyear that had the ability to drive people apart. She wasn’t sure what did it – the pressure of perfection the season called for, the meal itself, the build-up to the one day that was Christmas? Whatever it was, she knew that this year she didn’t want her mum to have any added stress, and she made up her mind that not only could she be responsible enough to step up and be the one to take on the familybusiness, she could also hold it together with her sisters when they came home for an extended stay. Time together had been in manageable chunks for as long as Daisy could remember, but looking at Ivor now as he passed some of the snowy white wool across to Ernest, distributed more to others who’d come to see the latest haul, Daisy was determined not to mess this up for anyone, least of all Grandad.
