An Invitation to Seashell Bay, Part 1, page 1
AN INVITATION TO SEASHELL BAY
PART 1
All Things Crafty
Bella Osborne
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperCollinsPublishers
Macken House
39/40 Mayor Street Upper
Dublin 1
D01 C9W8
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2023
Copyright © Bella Osborne 2023
Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008587970
Ebook Edition © 2023 ISBN: 9780008588014
Version: 2023-05-04
Praise for An Invitation to Seashell Bay
‘A lovely, sunshiney story, bursting with wit and joy.’
Milly Johnson
‘An Invitation to Seashell Bay has the Bella Osborne hallmark combination of wit, wonderful characters and meaningful conflicts that never fails to provide a fantastic read.’
Sue Moorcroft
‘Sparkling and laugh out loud – Bella’s books are like a glass of the finest bubbly.’
Phillipa Ashley
‘Bella’s done it again, another gorgeous page turner of a story. From the opening chapter I was completely hooked by this fresh, funny tale full of Bella’s trademark wit and warmth.’
Jules Wake
‘An Invitation to Seashell Bay is the summer invite you need to accept. It’s a funny, warm and gloriously uplifting romance with loveable characters and, like all Bella’s books, is the perfect blend of hilarious and heart-warming.’
Cressida McLaughlin
‘Pure, joyous escapism bursting with sunshine! An absolute delight to read!’
Christie Barlow
‘A gorgeous, feel-good summer read that will bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart along with a heroine that you want to be best friends with. I absolutely adored my trip to Seashell Bay.’
Kim Nash
‘A perfect ray of sunshine. Packed full of love and laughter, this fun and funny read is Bella Osborne at her best. Once you visit Seashell Bay, you’ll want to stay forever.’
Sarah Bennett
‘I absolutely adore Bella Osborne books and An Invitation to Seashell Bay is no exception. Sparkling with warmth and wit, Bella’s books are guaranteed to put a smile on my face. An Invitation to Seashell Bay is the perfect escapist summer read.’
Cathy Lake
‘I loved this book! Funny, charming, with a wonderful heroine. We should all have a little Nancy in our lives.’
Susan Mallery
Dedication
For Trevor and Brenda Nutt – thank you for everything.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for An Invitation to Seashell Bay
Dedication
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Bella Osborne
About the Publisher
PART ONE
Chapter One
‘Mind the gap,’ said the voice over the underground tannoy as more people squeezed into the already full carriage and Nancy felt like sausage meat being squeezed into a skin. Today was a blooming big day for Nancy. Big didn’t really cover it. It was more of a make-or-break kind of day. One of those pivotal points in life. What Nancy didn’t know was whether it would be wall-to-wall celebrations or the day her life turned to absolute poo. It all hinged on whether her little fledgling business properly took off or nosedived into a puddle, but she wasn’t going to let that stress her out. Whatever happened she wanted to look back on today and at least know she’d done everything she could to seal the deal.
The offices of All Things Crafty were in Paddington, London, which was a tube ride away from her own business premises in Dagenham. Her lodger, Alice, had helped her choose her outfit for the big day. Alice was a fun character and Nancy enjoyed having her around more than she’d anticipated. After an hour of Nancy trying on everything in her wardrobe, they’d gone for Lady Boss with a hint of art student. Nancy wore a beret, bright top and her best suit. She’d redone her mass of curly hair in a number of styles before settling on a bun. Her mother always said her hair had a mind of its own which was the kind way of saying it frequently resembled a dropped pan of spaghetti.
She had her plain black laptop bag slung across her body one way and another large bag containing sample products going in the opposite direction, which meant there was no hope of taking off her jacket. It was May and although warm outside, the many people rammed into the early commuter train made the carriage hotter than a sumo wrestler’s armpit. She was regretting the beret; she pulled it off and shoved it in her bag. It was okay because she was so early she would have time to pop to the toilets and put on some fresh deodorant. Nancy had literally thought of everything. She always did.
She emerged into the sunshine at Lancaster Gate tube station as serious-looking people swarmed around her, making her glad she no longer had to commute into the city every day. After five years in various office jobs, she had started selling crafting goods online. That little company, Having A Ball, had blossomed enough for her to quit her office job and run her own business full time. It hadn’t been plain sailing but if she could land a contract with the crafting giant, All Things Crafty, she would be well on her way to securing her company’s future. Having A Ball was an online yarn and wool shop that specialised in ethically sourced products and she was very proud of it, especially the name – Nancy loved a pun. She knew all the statistics: on average 1000 companies went bust every month in the UK and almost one in five new businesses failed each year. But she was sure her business would be different. For a start, none of the others had her running them. Nancy was more determined than a seagull near a chip shop: opportunist, fiercely competitive and tenacious to the point of a restraining order.
She checked her watch. She was far too early. Plenty of time for a coffee and a trip to the loo. She chose a café close to the All Things Crafty offices, popped to their loo to sort out her armpits before joining the queue of sullen-looking suited people. But the smacked-bum faces couldn’t bring Nancy down. She was already on a high. This was a huge opportunity and while she was a bit nervous, she was also very excited. She placed her coffee order and moved to join the less ordered group of anxious people waiting for their first caffeine hit of the day. A few large men moved in front of her making her shuffle back and then have to apologise to a tutting person for reversing her bags into them.
‘Grande skinny mocha,’ said the barista, putting the cup on the counter.
‘Excuse me,’ said Nancy, inching forward. Her hand reached for the cup at the same time as one of the men.
‘I think that’s mine,’ said the man with a frown and a hairy hand on her drink.
Nancy kept hold of the cup. She had been in front of him in the queue so even if it was the same order as his, then it made sense that it was hers. ‘Sorry, I think you’ll find it’s mine.’
‘It’s not. Let go.’ He tugged on the cup but Nancy wasn’t going to give it up that easily.
‘Remove your hand and see what name’s on the cup,’ she suggested.
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
The barista reappeared and took in the altercation but in true London style he chose not to get involved and plonked down more cups. ‘Tall cappuccino. Venti coconut latte with an extra shot, grande skinny mocha.’
Nancy’s head swivelled in the barista’s direction. ‘Who is the mocha for?’ she asked.
With a sharp blink the barista conveyed his annoyance at the question. He turned around the cup to reveal the name in marker pen – Richard.
Nancy had never felt so smug in all her life, with the possible exception of the day the school bully walked into the side of a bus shelter. ‘Are you Richard?’ she asked the man whose hand appeared glued to her cup.
He let it go as if it had morphed into the business end of a toilet brush and picked up the correct cup – the whole time shaking his head like it was Nancy’s mistake – and turned to leave with
Sitting down at a table she unloaded her bags. It was a welcome relief to her shoulders. Nancy pulled out her notes and put her laptop bag on the chair next to her. She was pleased with the presentation her small team had pulled together at short notice – they’d worked into the night on it. The slides were slick and professional, her pitch was punchy and compelling – all she had to do was deliver it.
‘Excuse me,’ said a young man in a baseball cap who appeared at her shoulder, making her turn slightly. ‘I am very sorry to disturb you, but you look like you might be kind enough to direct me.’ He gave her a tentative smile.
She’d lived and worked in London for years and like most locals prided herself on her knowledge. ‘Of course, where do you need to get to?’
He pulled out a map. ‘I’m looking for Talbot Square.’ He pointed at the map, drawing Nancy’s eyes to a red felt tip splodge.
‘That’s easy, you’re really close. If you go out of here, take the first right and then Talbot Square is about halfway down.’
‘You are so kind. Thank you,’ he said, folding up his map and giving little bows as he reversed away from her.
‘You’re very welcome.’ Nancy turned back to her notes. As she picked up her coffee, she realised her laptop bag had gone.
‘Shit!’ said Nancy, jumping to her feet and promptly knocking her coffee into the bag of samples. ‘Double shit!’ She spun around. A few people were glancing in her direction, but most were trying to avoid making eye contact. ‘Thief!’ she said, pointing to the door, but the young man had gone and so had his accomplice with her laptop. She needed her computer. It had the presentation on it. Nancy grabbed her things and, ignoring the coffee dripping out of the bottom of the bag, she raced from the café.
Outside she scanned the street in both directions. There was no sign of the young man or anyone carrying her laptop bag. But then it wasn’t exactly distinctive. She had two options: to go left or right. He wouldn’t have gone right because that was the way she’d directed him. She turned to go left. Or was it a double bluff? Nancy froze for a second. This was wasting time. She decided to go right and dashed off down the street at a half jog. When she reached the corner of Sussex Gardens she knew she was wasting her time. She felt the drips of cold coffee trickle down her tights. Nancy had been outwitted and she was furious. She’d lost her laptop and her notes. No, she hadn’t, the notes had been on the table. At least she could salvage those. Nancy turned around and stomped back to the café.
The table she’d been sitting at was freshly wiped down and there was no sign of her notes. She hovered around the counter trying to catch the barista’s eye. ‘Excuse me.’ He looked up, which was a result. ‘I left some important notes on that table over there, do you have them?’
‘You left a mess over there,’ he said.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I’d just had my laptop stolen so I had other things on my mind. Anyway, if you’ve got the notes that would really help.’
He reached under the counter and passed her a bin bag. ‘They’re in there.’
Nancy took the bag and peeped inside. A strong waft of coffee hit her. She jiggled the bag and watched bits of cake, a banana skin and brown sludge tumble about. Underneath it all she saw the corner of her notes, she reached in and pulled them out. They were covered in coffee grounds and dripping – the words were barely visible. She gave the paper a little shake.
‘Thanks,’ she said to the barista as she handed back the bag.
‘Have a nice day!’ he chorused, making her want to tip the bag over his head.
Nancy wasn’t sure what was worse – turning up to the most important meeting of her life without any presentation or looking like the piece of coffee-soaked paper was her best effort at one. But her notes were a sort of comfort blanket even if they did now look like she’d wiped her bum with them.
Twenty minutes later Nancy gave herself a mental shake as she walked into the impressive offices of All Things Crafty. She gave her details to the receptionist, took a seat and waited to be collected. Eventually, a friendly woman slightly older than Nancy arrived to take her to the meeting. She introduced herself as Madeleine the Head Buyer and Nancy had to suppress her inner child and the images of heads on a shelf. Madeleine asked if Nancy had travelled far which was Nancy’s opportunity to regale her with the nightmare she’d had.
‘That’s awful. Did you want to rearrange?’ asked Madeleine.
Nancy looked at the coffee dripping from the samples bag. Like her dad said, sometimes you had to know when to quit and Nancy figured the point where someone had nicked her presentation, her soggy samples were ruined and her notes barely readable – this was probably the time. ‘That might be a good idea.’
‘The diary is pretty rammed because we’re focussing on a big project from next week so it might be a few months before we can fit you in. Let me see.’
‘But we only had a few days’ notice of this meeting from Lord Boyle’s secretary,’ said Nancy.
‘You’re a cancellation. Once a month, Lord Boyle or Sir Richard, as he prefers to be called, allocates a small amount of diary time for new supplier meetings. This slot came free because the company who was pitching went into liquidation.’ Madeleine beamed a smile. ‘What’s your diary like for September?’
Nancy scrunched her eyes closed for a second while she processed the situation. It was a gamble either way. If she waited the four months, would her own company have gone bankrupt? But if she presented today was she and her soggy samples enough to win them over? The thought of her company’s lopsided balance sheet was the nudge she needed. ‘Actually, I think I’ll pitch today if that’s okay? I’m sure if I explain the situation with my laptop …’
‘Hmm. Okay.’ Madeleine didn’t look convinced.
Nancy had time to have a bit of a sort-out in the toilets. She redid her deodorant, brushed the worst of the bin contents off her notes and salvaged the best of the samples from the bag. She gave herself a sweep of lipstick, tucked in a couple of stray wisps of hair that had escaped from her bun and straightened her shoulders at her reflection in the mirror. She was Nancy Barraclough. She didn’t let anything get in her way and today was no different. She put on her best winning smile and prepared to win herself the contract of her career.
Nancy walked into the meeting room full of determination and unease. Madeleine was chatting to a slightly older dark-haired man and they both got up when she walked in.
‘Hi, I’m Peter Dixon, Digital Trading Manager. Madeleine has just told me about you being mugged.’
‘I wasn’t exactly mugged they just stole my laptop.’
‘And chucked coffee over you?’
‘Well …’ She was about to admit to doing that herself but thought better of it. ‘Anyway, let’s not dwell on the bad start I’ve had to my day. Let’s focus on the partnership we could build if you like the ground-breaking products I’m about to show you.’ Nancy loved that she immediately had their full attention. Who needed a swanky presentation? ‘Everything I’m going to share has been sustainably sourced and we pride ourselves on our neutral carbon footprint. It has been scientifically proven that the rhythm of crafting techniques like crochet and knitting helps with serotonin release. This is the chemical transmitter that helps regulate anxiety, happiness and mood so it’s great for mental health as well as the social aspect of making friends and crafting together. There are four key products I want to share with you today and I’m offering these on an exclusive basis to All Things Crafty and—’
The door opened. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, bloody nightmare, Jocelyn is off, so I had to get my own coffee and there was this bloody wom …’ He stopped talking at the sight of Nancy. The man who had tried to steal her coffee had just plonked himself down in a seat next to the others.
‘We’ve only just started,’ began Madeleine. ‘This is Nancy Barraclough.’
‘Hi, Lord Richard, we’ve already met,’ said Nancy, deciding to brazen it out. She reached across the table with an outstretched hand.
His mouth dropped open for a second before he recovered and shook her hand with an overly forceful grip. ‘It’s Sir Richard.’
