The Summer House of Happiness: A delightfully feel-good romantic comedy perfect for holiday!. Daisy James

what’s wrong? Tell me! What’s happened?’

      The fear in her friend’s voice brought Gabbie to her senses. Whatever had happened, it was not the end of the world and no one had died. In fact it was the opposite; it was the beginning of something new, something fresh and exciting! She quickly spilled out every detail of her early morning drama in the presence of the eponymous head of the company she no longer worked for.

      ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,’ sighed Jasmine, her dark eyes scouring Gabbie’s face, distress and sympathy written clearly across her expression. ‘So, what are you going to do? You’ll walk into another job, I’m sure of it. Hey, why don’t you come with me and Marco to Antigua next month for the Caribbean 600 yacht race? We’ll have a ball!’

      Gabbie’s heart squeezed at Jasmine’s support and generosity. It was a kind offer, but even if she had wanted to join them, she couldn’t afford the flight and nor did she have enough funds to cover her half of the rent for any length of time. While she knew Jasmine wouldn’t even blink an eye at paying the full cost herself until she got back on her feet, she couldn’t allow her friend to do that. She had always paid her way and that wasn’t going to change.

      So what was she going to do?

      It wasn’t hard to come up with the answer. She would go home to Devon, a place she loved but which, after her mother’s death, held so many painful memories. Apart from the last couple of months, when she had been working flat-out on her summer fragrance, she had made it a priority to meet up with her father in London, because she knew how difficult it was for him to leave the garage and fly to France. She missed him tremendously, and some of the best times she’d had were when he had flown over to Nice and they’d spent the weekend together, sitting at a pavement café, sipping espressos and soaking up the sunshine, watching the beautiful people promenade and the sleek, shiny yachts glide across the sparkling water of the bay.

      She knew he too was still grieving for her beloved mother, but the last time she had seen him, at the beginning of summer, she’d noticed that the sunken shadows underneath his crinkly blue eyes had softened. Relief had rippled through her – after all, he was the only family she had left and she worried about him all the time; about how hard he worked, how much he fretted about his car-maintenance empire and the maelstrom of paperwork and red tape that went with running a small business. When she had mentioned his more relaxed demeanour, her father had told her he’d taken on a new mechanic to help him meet increased demand and to step up as his deputy while he was sunning himself on the French Riviera.

      It had been one of the most enjoyable, carefree weekends she had spent with him, chatting about her mum, reminiscing about the hours Gabbie had spent with her in the cream-painted summerhouse in the back garden, laughing at the myriad concoctions the two of them had come up with to relieve the strain of her cancer treatment, but some of which had just made Sofia feel more nauseous. Gabbie wished with all her heart that she’d had the benefit of her GIP training during that difficult time, when she had yearned to create a fragrance, an aroma, a scent, a lotion, anything that could alleviate her mother’s suffering, even for a short time.

      With some difficulty, she dragged her thoughts back to the present and smiled at Jasmine. ‘A trip to Antigua sounds wonderful, Jazz, but I’ve decided to go home. I miss Dad, and I know he misses me too but doesn’t want to stand in the way of me pursuing my dreams. I even miss the garage, would you believe, and maybe this is fate giving me a gentle nudge in that direction, telling me it’s time to face my demons head-on, instead of giving them headroom where they can relax and be pampered. If I do that then maybe I’ll be able to move on and find someone to share my life with, like you have with Marco.’

      ‘An excellent plan! I’m sorry about what happened with Jules Gasnier, Gabbie, but if it means you’re going to have the time and space to work through your grief at last, instead of hiding from it under the guise of a manic work schedule, then it’s the best thing that could have happened to you – and I know Jeff is going to be overjoyed to have you home. Hey, maybe Marco and I can call in when we come over for the Royal Regatta?’

      Gabbie laughed for the first time that day. Jasmine always had her mood-o-meter switched to positive and she knew her friend’s influence had a huge impact on her life. She and Marco had been there to celebrate every accolade she had achieved with her perfumes, every namecheck in the trade press and glossy magazines, not to mention the fact that Jasmine insisted on wearing nothing else but her creations! She would miss her friend’s talent for introducing a little ray of sunshine into the darkest of days, and resolved to ensure they stayed in touch, even if an ocean separated them. Friends like Jasmine, and Clara, her best friend at home, were just too precious to lose.

      ‘I’d love to see you and Marco in Devon – and so would Dad!’

      ‘Then it’s a date. Gabbie, you know what I’m always telling you, yes? When one door closes, another is ready to be flung open! I know you thought House of Gasnier was your dream job, but dreams can and do change, you know, and being back home will help you figure out what the next stage of your life has in store – professionally and romantically. Sofia would never have wanted you to shy away from finding someone who makes your heart sing – because that’s exactly what she found with Jeff.’

      Gabbie knew her friend was right. No matter how confused she felt at the sudden turn of events that had resulted in her resignation, nothing came close to the pain she still nurtured in her heart and carried with her every day, no matter where she chose to make her life. It was time she worked on coming to terms with her loss, just as her father was, and allowing someone into her heart again.

Chapter Three

      The journey from Nice airport to her childhood home in Devon passed in a blur of frenetic activity. She had flung everything she couldn’t bear to part with into a suitcase, then told Jasmine she could keep what she wanted from whatever remained and take the rest to the homeless charity which the two of them, along with Marco, had raised money for in a canoe race the previous month during one of her rare days off.

      When she arrived at Gatwick she had stupidly glanced in the bathroom mirror and a jolt of shock reverberated around her body. The previous day she had faced the world – albeit courtesy of Jasmine – looking polished and elegant in a pair of Louboutins and a three-hundred-euro dress. Now look at her – she looked as if she’d been dragged through Customs on the back of a tractor! Her hair was no longer pinned in a sleek mahogany chignon but had ballooned into a candyfloss mess.

      However, Gabbie didn’t care what she looked like. Until she had relocated to France, sartorial perfection had been low on her list of priorities. She much preferred to sport a pair of comfortable old dungarees, more than likely enhanced with a splodge of oil from when she had helped her father change an exhaust or fit a new clutch. Sadly, jeans were frowned upon at House of Gasnier and she’d been towed around the boutiques in Grasse by Jasmine, who’d been intent on giving her a lesson in French couture. She hadn’t argued because her theory had always been that if she kept busy, even if it was shopping for dresses – something that had never hung in her wardrobe – there would be no time to contemplate the grenades life had strewn in her path.

      She had utilised her time during the flight back to the UK to formulate a believable explanation for her impromptu visit home. Her father had mentioned, only in passing, that the finances at the garage were squeezed, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause him any additional anxiety over the fact that she no longer had a source of income. Despite this complication, she was looking forward to being back.

      Yet, Oakley would never be the same ‘home’ as the one that still existed so vibrantly in her thoughts. How could it be when one of the most precious people in her world was no longer there?

      Shoving her anguish into the dark crevices of her mind, Gabbie smiled brightly at the monosyllabic taxi driver who picked her up at the station and settled down to enjoy the familiar ride through the Devonshire countryside. When, twenty minutes later, she caught her first glimpse of the white-painted signpost declaring Oakley’s award for Best Village in Bloom – something her mother had