Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clemmie was lying in bed, cradling her morning coffee, mentally preparing for the exciting day ahead.
Today was the royal garden party, and thinking about entering Eldenbridge Palace made her both nervous and excited.
She swung her legs to the floor and wrapped herself in her dressing gown before grabbing her coffee and heading down the stairs.
She was about to attend one of the most prestigious events in the country, and she could hardly believe it.
‘I woke up to coffee and I wanted to wake up to you.’ Clemmie slipped her arms around Oliver’s waist and snuggled into him where he was standing by the stove, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and something delicious filling the air.
‘Good morning! I thought you might need a little time to wake up before we dive into the day.’
Clemmie smiled back, ‘I’m excited … and a little terrified, to be honest.’
‘You’re going to be brilliant. Just think, the whole of the royal garden party is going to sample your torte!’
‘It’s scary, isn’t it?’
‘Have you thought about the recipes you want to showcase in your cookbook?’
‘I have! I want to use a lot of the coastal recipes that my great-great-grandmother introduced to The Café on the Coast because we still have those favourites on the menu today.’
‘Any thoughts on the title of the cookbook?’
She smiled, ‘I thought I’d keep it simple, maybe something like Cook with Clemmie! or The Café on the Coast Cookbook.’
‘Both good ideas. I’ve made you something light for breakfast,’ he said, motioning to the plate on the table. ‘Something gentle on the stomach, in case the nerves get the better of you.’
Clemmie looked down at the breakfast he’d prepared: soft scrambled eggs with chives, a few slices of smoked salmon, and a warm croissant, golden and flaky.
‘You’re a keeper!’ she exclaimed happily, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she suddenly felt a twinge of sadness.
‘But you’ll be gone by the end of the week. ’ She pulled a sad face.
He met her gaze. ‘Let’s not dwell on that today. This is your day and I want you to enjoy it from start to finish.’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘You have spoiled me from the moment I’ve got here. I will never forget all this.’
Oliver smiled and sat across from her as his phone rang out. He looked at the screen then said, ‘Can you excuse me for a second?’
Clemmie nodded and overheard him say, ‘Yes, I’ve been staying at Royalwood Cottage’ as he stepped out of the room.
Moving to the window, she watched him walk down to the bottom of the garden.
As she returned to the table and started to eat her breakfast, she could still see him talking animatedly, raking one hand through his hair.
His face looked thunderous and as he hung up the call, he took a moment before walking back.
‘Everything okay? That looked a bit heated,’ she asked as he re-entered the room.
Oliver hesitated and seemed to be about to share something with her, but they were interrupted as a loud bell rang out, causing Clemmie to jump.
‘What is that?’
‘The front door.’
‘That’s louder than a church bell!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you expecting someone?’
Clemmie glanced at Oliver, who had a knowing smile on his face. ‘It’s for you.’
‘Me?’ she said, puzzled.
She followed Oliver to the door. When he opened it, a stylish woman was standing there, radiating confidence and grace. She immediately put her arms out and hugged Oliver before kissing him on both cheeks.
‘It’s good to see you, and this must be Clemmie.’
‘It is, and Clemmie’—Oliver stepped aside as he introduced them—‘this is Seraphina Westlake.’
Clemmie’s mouth fell open. She’d heard that name before. ‘Aren’t you a make-up artist to the stars?’
Seraphina smiled. ‘I’m here to prepare you for the royal garden party. I’ll be helping you with your hair, nails and make-up this morning.’
‘Really?’ She looked towards Oliver. ‘Is this your doing?’
‘We can’t have you meeting Queen Charlotte with bed hair.’ He nudged her playfully, making her blush as she swiped his arm.
‘Oliver!’
‘It’s okay, I’ve known Seraphina since primary school, she knows all my secrets.’ Oliver’s grin was playful as he looked at her. ‘I thought you might appreciate a little pampering.’
Clemmie threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. ‘I can’t believe this. Thank you!’
Seraphina smiled. ‘Today is all about you. Let’s get started.’
‘I need a shower first!’
‘We have plenty of time. You go and have that shower, and I’ll be set up and ready for you when you’re done.’
Oliver and Seraphina laughed as Clemmie squealed and raced up the stairs.
‘It feels like Christmas!’ Clemmie shouted over her shoulder.
A few hours later, Clemmie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, taking a deep breath. She looked so different, like she’d stepped into someone else’s life. She felt gorgeous, confident – as if she’d been dropped into a dream.
It was hard to believe that just a few days ago she had been in her café, covered in flour, trying to perfect her clementine torte for the competition. Now, here she was, dressed to the nines, about to attend the royal garden party. It felt surreal.
A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. Seraphina poked her head in, her smile approving. ‘Are you ready? It’s time.’
Clemmie nodded, smoothing out her dress one last time.
She turned and headed for the stairs. At the bottom, Oliver was waiting for her, looking sharp in a grey pinstriped suit and a perfectly fitting waistcoat.
A silver pocket watch caught the light, and his shoes shone.
He looked every bit the gentleman. When Clemmie appeared, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
For a moment, Oliver seemed unable to speak. His eyes widened, and he stood there frozen, staring at her. Clemmie paused midway down the stairs. Resting her hand on the banister, she smiled.
‘Oliver,’ she said softly, teasingly. ‘Do you have tears in your eyes?’
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to gather himself, and then let out a sheepish laugh. ‘I do,’ he admitted. ‘You look … stunning. Absolutely breathtaking.’
As she took the final steps down the staircase he held out his arm, and she wrapped her hand around it.
Seraphina, ever the perfectionist, stepped forward to adjust a strand of Clemmie’s hair then dabbed a touch of gloss on her lips. She stepped back, her critical eye scanning Clemmie from head to toe before nodding with satisfaction. ‘You’re ready,’ she declared. ‘Have fun!’
‘I can’t thank you enough. I would have never looked this good without your help.’
‘You are very welcome,’ she replied, before turning to Oliver. ‘Good luck in America, but let’s speak before you go. And remember, take note of what I said.’
He nodded and briefly looked towards Clemmie, and she saw a flicker in his eyes of something she couldn’t identify.
‘I’ll be off now but have a wonderful day!’
‘I’ll see you out,’ said Oliver.
Clemmie watched them walk towards the door then pulled her phone from her bag, snapping a quick photo of her radiant reflection in the hall’s mirror.
Captioning the photo, she wrote:
Clemmie
Off to the royal garden party! Feeling like a princess for the day. Wish me luck! xx
She posted it to her café’s social media page and sent it to her friends’ WhatsApp group. Within seconds, her phone buzzed.
Betty
Clemmie! You look absolutely stunning. Like a proper royal! Enjoy every second, you deserve it. xx
Amelia
Oh my goodness, Clem, you look amazing!! Can’t wait to hear all about it. Make sure you get lots of photos. So proud of you! Go and bag a prince! Ha ha.
Dilly
Look at our girl!! You’re glowing! Have the best time ever. Also, if Prince Charming is there, don’t forget to invite him to the café. xx
Clemmie laughed at Dilly’s message, the familiar banter grounding her in the moment. Oliver was walking back towards her as she slipped her phone back into her clutch.
Her nerves were now giving way to giddy excitement. ‘How are we getting to the palace?’ she asked.
Oliver grinned. ‘Your car awaits,’ he said, gesturing towards the driveway where the Bentley was making its way towards them.
‘Only the best for today,’ Oliver said, opening the door for her.
The driver tipped his hat as she climbed in and Oliver joined her in the back.
The car purred to life as they drove through the countryside and Clemmie settled back into the plush seat.
She couldn’t believe it. Here she was, in a Bentley (again!) and on her way to a royal garden party, with Oliver beside her.
After a few miles, Oliver turned to her with a grin. ‘Hang tight. We’re getting close.’
‘Close to what?’ she asked looking out of the window.
The car began to slow and then came to a smooth stop.
‘Why have we stopped?’ Clemmie asked, climbing out the car. Then she gasped with surprise.
Waiting for them was a beautiful horse-drawn carriage, its polished black body gleaming in the sunlight. The horses, sleek and well-groomed, wore braided reins, and a footman stood at attention, his uniform impeccable.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Clemmie’s voice was filled with amazement.
The footman stepped forward, opening the carriage door with a respectful bow. ‘Miss Clemmie, sir,’ he said, his voice deep and formal.
Clemmie turned to Oliver, her eyes sparkling.
‘This is incredible,’ she said, her smile wide as she took Oliver’s hand and stepped inside the carriage.
He climbed in beside her, and the horses began to move.
The nerves that had hit her earlier were now replaced by excitement.
Not only was she going to the royal garden party, but she was doing it in a way she never could’ve imagined.
She turned to Oliver, her smile soft. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘For making this day so special.’
Oliver reached over, taking her hand in his. ‘You’re welcome.’