A Fairy Tale for Christmas Read online

  Contents

  Critical acclaim for Chrissie Manby

  Also by Chrissie Manby

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Acknowledgements

  Critical acclaim for Chrissie Manby

  ‘Lots and lots of uncomplicated fun’

  Heat

  ‘Manby’s novels are made for holidays’

  Glamour

  ‘Nothing short of brilliant’

  Marie Claire

  ‘This sassy and addictive read will make you laugh – a lot!’

  Closer

  ‘Funny and inventive’

  Company

  ‘A gloriously delicious read! … Packed with warm characters and hilarious situations’

  handwrittengirl.com

  ‘Hilarious … I loved it. Six stars, hurrah!’

  Daily Mail

  ‘I just couldn’t put it down’

  www.chicklitreviewsandnews.com

  ‘Destined to keep you up until the small hours’

  Daily Mirror

  Also by Chrissie Manby

  Flatmates

  Second Prize

  Deep Heat

  Lizzie Jordan’s Secret Life

  Running Away From Richard

  Getting Personal

  Seven Sunny Days

  Girl Meets Ape

  Ready Or Not?

  The Matchbreaker

  Marrying for Money

  Spa Wars

  Crazy in Love

  Getting Over Mr Right

  Kate’s Wedding

  What I Did On My Holidays

  Writing for Love (ebook only)

  A Proper Family Holiday

  A Proper Family Christmas

  A Proper Family Adventure

  A Wedding at Christmas

  About the Author

  Chrissie Manby is the author of twenty romantic comedy novels and a guide for aspiring writers, Writing for Love. She was nominated for the Melissa Nathan Award for Comedy Romance in 2011 for Getting Over Mr Right.

  Raised in Gloucester, Chrissie now lives in London.

  You can follow her on Twitter @chrissiemanby

  or visit her website to find out more. www.chrissiemanby.com

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © Chrissie Manby 2016

  The right of Chrissie Manby to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 473 63975 1

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

  To George Arthur Hazel

  Chapter One

  ‘Cinderella? I ask you? With feet the size of hers? Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?’ Jon leaned back in his seat and waved his fork in Kirsty’s direction. ‘We’ll have to get a body double for the glass slipper scene.’

  ‘Well, sweetheart,’ said Kirsty. ‘It was you who cast me as Cinders in the first place.’

  ‘Would have been hell to pay if I hadn’t,’ Jon said with a knowing wink to one of the other guys at the dining table that night.

  Kirsty smiled sweetly at her boyfriend of almost a year. Jon was usually very funny. He liked a joke. Kirsty told herself it wasn’t always at her expense. Still, she tucked her feet a little further beneath her chair as he continued to tease her for the entertainment of their friends. She had thought her feet looked pretty in her new red leather ballet flats. Until Jon called them ‘boat shoes’ because ‘they’re the size of small canoes’.

  ‘Tell me more about it,’ said Jane, Kirsty’s best friend, who was among their dinner guests that evening. ‘I mean the pantomime, not your feet. I’m just glad you’re going to be in the UK over Christmas. I’ve missed you so much.’

  Kirsty had recently returned from a season spent working as a singer on a cruise ship. It was than
ks to being on that ship – The European Countess – that she’d met Jon. He stage-managed one of the on-board shows in which Kirsty starred. In the first flush of romance Kirsty felt like a goddess every time she stepped out into the lights, knowing that Jon was watching from the wings. He had so many good ideas about improving her performance and he was always full of praise. He made her feel like a proper star. Now they were an official double act and it seemed she was playing the straight guy. Ah well.

  ‘You’ll make a fantastic Cinderella,’ Jane continued. ‘Your voice is so good. You’ll carry the show.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Kirsty.

  ‘She will carry the show,’ Jon agreed. ‘Newbay won’t know what’s hit it when Kirsty lets rip with that incredible voice. But we’ll have to get the shoes made at one of those transvestite outfitters,’ he continued, oblivious to the fact that Kirsty’s smile was slipping. ‘I’m sure both the blokes playing the Ugly Sisters wear a smaller size.’

  ‘We get the idea, Jon,’ said Kirsty. ‘My feet aren’t exactly petite. But then I am five foot ten and if my feet were any smaller, I’d topple over. Now, does anyone want second helpings?’

  All six dinner party guests were enthusiastic and not just because they too wanted Jon to change the subject. Kirsty was a very good cook. She was looking forward to having some more food herself.

  Jon followed Kirsty to the kitchen and put his hands on her waist as she fetched the remains of the lamb casserole out of the oven. He leaned his chin on her shoulder. ‘Thank you for cooking tonight,’ he said. ‘I can tell everyone is really enjoying themselves. How lucky am I to have a leading lady who’s also a domestic goddess?’

  Kirsty melted into him, forgetting for a moment all those bad jokes about her feet. Jon nuzzled the side of her neck and she felt her insides fizzing. The chemistry that had brought them together on the ship was still amazing. But then he gave her muffin top an absent-minded squeeze as he planted a kiss on the side of her face.

  Jon probably wasn’t even conscious of what he’d done but Kirsty felt her cheeks redden. She’d actually lost a few pounds recently, having put on half a stone while they were at sea, but Jon’s squeeze brought back the awful memory of having her costumes let out halfway through the summer season. It wasn’t unusual, apparently, for first-time cruise entertainers to put on a few pounds in the face of so much excess at the twenty-four-hour buffet, but Kirsty was still embarrassed.

  Unlike Kirsty, Jon had incredible discipline around food. He was the kind of person who could eat half a Twix. If Kirsty ever ate just half a Twix, the other half would call to her from inside the fridge. She would hear nothing but its chocolatey voice crooning ‘eat me, eat me, eat me’ until she caved in.

  However, she did her best to find some of Jon’s willpower that evening. While Jon went back to the dining table with no idea of the thoughts he’d triggered in Kirsty’s head, she served everyone but herself a second helping of the casserole. What remained went into the fridge before she could be tempted to pick at it.

  Later, she allowed herself just a couple of small spoonfuls of the tiramisu she had made with so much love that afternoon. Her tummy rumbled miserably as her friends praised her cooking to the stars and clamoured for seconds and thirds and even tossed a coin to determine who would be allowed to scrape the serving bowl clean. In that moment, Kirsty felt like she needed tiramisu as much as she needed oxygen. But since Jon had unwittingly drawn her attention to her fluctuating waistline, there was no way she could indulge. Everyone who ever dreamed of a career in the spotlight knew that sacrifice was part of the deal. That famous speech at the beginning of Fame – the series Kirsty had devoured as a child – just about nailed it. ‘Fame costs …’ Well, Kirsty was paying in calories.

  ‘I think that was a very successful dinner party,’ said Jon as the last of their guests left around midnight. Kirsty was relieved to hear him say so. It had been important to her to impress his best friends from his school days, whom she met for the first time that night. They were nice people and thankfully they seemed to like her too. They left promising they would all get together again soon.

  ‘Definitely before Christmas,’ said Jon.

  Likewise, because Jon and Kirsty had been on a cruise ship for most of their relationship so far, the dinner party was Kirsty’s first chance to introduce him to Jane.

  Jane and Kirsty had been best friends for decades and were as close as any sisters. They’d shared ups and downs. They’d bonded over boy bands and beauty tips. But Jane had also seen Kirsty through the loss of her mother when they were in the middle of their GCSEs. Fifteen years later, Kirsty had done her best to pull Jane out of her seemingly bottomless grief after the sudden death of her fiancé Greg.

  It was Kirsty who persuaded Jane that she shouldn’t give up on love after Greg’s death. It was Jane who convinced Kirsty that she really should give up her safe job as an office manager for an accountancy firm and try to make a living from her voice at the impossibly ancient age – in showbiz terms at least – of thirty-two. For all those reasons and more, it was important to Kirsty that Jane approved of Jon. Just as Jane had been keen for Kirsty to like her new boyfriend, Rob.

  Kirsty had no trouble assuring Jane that Rob was great because he was. He was funny and kind and wonderfully attentive. Most importantly, he was clearly head over heels for Jane. She hoped Jane felt the same way about Jon.

  Getting ready for bed in the little flat she and Jon were renting pending any wonderful job offers elsewhere, Kirsty paused to examine herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. She stood sideways on, pulled her shoulders back and her stomach in to give herself the best possible profile. She even sucked in her cheeks. Then she slowly turned around, watching the curves of her body reassert themselves until she finally faced the mirror full frontal and beheld herself at her widest. Jon came out of the bathroom and caught her mid-appraisal. He gave his verdict.

  ‘Nothing a few weeks on the 5:2 wouldn’t put right.’

  He also gave her what was probably supposed to be a reassuring pat on the bottom.

  ‘I’ll do it with you if you like,’ he continued. ‘Could lose a couple of pounds myself.’

  He patted his own non-existent belly. Then he got into bed and was asleep within minutes, while Kirsty tossed and turned until three, tormented by thoughts of too-tight jeans and tiramisu.

  She knew she wasn’t Disney Princess perfect but isn’t every woman worthy of a fairytale ending?

  Chapter Two

  ‘More tiramisu?’ Judy Teesdale nudged the bowl towards her son Ben.

  ‘No, thanks, Mum,’ Ben patted his stomach. ‘I’ve had plenty. I always overdo it.’

  Judy didn’t agree. ‘You don’t eat enough. You’re looking gaunt,’ she told her beloved only child. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘I’m trying to stay fit,’ he countered.

  ‘You’re working too hard.’

  ‘I’m running my own business now. I have to.’

  ‘You’ve got to look after yourself at the same time. Thea needs her father to be healthy. And happy,’ she added.

  ‘I am happy, Mum.’

  Judy merely raised her eyebrows at that.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, as she gathered up the empty bowls. ‘If you’re going to refuse any more of my legendary pudding, you can help me with the washing up.’

  Moments later, Judy and Ben stood side by side at the kitchen sink, looking out onto the garden where Ben’s eight-year-old daughter Althea – Thea for short – was playing with Buster, Judy’s Border Terrier. Thea was throwing a tennis ball for the little dog. Most of the time, Buster plucked the ball from the sky before it had time to bounce. But when the ball hit the shed and bounced back in Thea’s direction while Buster was still haring down the garden, Thea tried to catch it herself. She had no chance. As she made her valiant attempt, her glasses, with the thick lenses that made her eyes look enormous, slipped off her nose. Suddenly half-blind, she
stumbled over her own feet. She missed the ball and somehow ended up tripping over the dog, who’d turned on a sixpence when he realised the ball had rebounded. Judy and Ben sighed as Thea completely lost her balance and sat down heavily on the muddy grass. Buster, realising that something wasn’t right, quickly dropped the ball and returned to lick Thea’s knees.

  ‘She’s just like you were at that age,’ Judy observed. ‘All legs. Thank god she got Jo’s brains.’

  At the mention of Thea’s mother, Ben’s face fell. Judy put her arm around her son’s waist and gave him a squeeze.

  ‘Jo would have known how to help her,’ said Ben.

  Judy knew at once to what Ben was referring. They’d talked about it as soon as Thea left the table. Thea was being picked on at school. Her myopia and the enormous glasses that went with it had marked her out as a target from the start. She was sweet and bookish and trusting that people were essentially as good-hearted as she was. That made her gullible. At parents’ evening earlier that week, Thea’s teacher Mrs Griffiths had expressed her concerns to Ben.

  ‘How are things at home?’ Mrs Griffiths asked as though that might provide an explanation for Thea’s unpopularity in the classroom.

  ‘Fine,’ Ben had said. ‘We’re getting on OK.’

  The truth was that things at home were sad and strange. Ben was doing his best but since Jo died of breast cancer, just over three years ago, he felt as though he had been living underwater. Everything was still muted. Numbed. It seemed to be getting worse with Christmas looming on the horizon. The world was getting ready to celebrate. Ben wasn’t. He knew he needed to make more effort.

  It didn’t help poor Thea that they’d moved right after Jo died. They’d been living in London but with Jo gone, Ben felt he couldn’t cope in the city on his own. He wanted to be near what little family he had. That was why he and Thea had moved back to Newbay to stay with Judy in the house where Ben grew up. It was meant to be a temporary move but, after a year, Ben admitted he was never going back to the job his employers had held open. He took another six months to figure out what to do before Judy came home one day with details of the empty shop that was now Ben’s PC repair business.

  ‘Perhaps we should look into more after-school activities,’ Judy suggested, breaking into Ben’s reflection. ‘Broaden Thea’s circle. I know how it can be at school. You get on the wrong side of one horrible ringleader and suddenly the whole class is ganging up on you. A different group of children could boost her confidence and help her push back in the classroom. How about the Brownies? There’s a troop at the community centre. I loved Brownies when I was a child.’