Welcome back to Cherry Pie Islandâ¦the most delicious place to spend Christmas!
Hannahâs holidays are normally spent nibbling chocolate coins with her daughter and arguing with her sister about whether theyâre too old for stockings on Christmas morning. But this year, sheâs been offered the dressmakerâs job of a lifetime: creating a one-of-a-kind a dress for her school friend Annieâs Christmas wedding on the picture-perfect Cherry Pie Island.
Many mince pies and one hot-pink organza dress later, Hannah is set to snuggle back into her old routineâ¦until she discovers that there are three more weddings this winter â and not a dress in sight!
Four very different themes, four demanding brides and four parties spent avoiding chef Harry Fontaine, whose cynicism is as much a wedding day guarantee as confetti and cake. Hannah has her work cut out for her! Yet, with a sprinkling of snowflakes and Christmas magic, it could be that this is the year when miracles really do happenâ¦if Hannah will let them.
Also by Jenny Oliver
The Parisian Christmas Bake Off
The Vintage Summer Wedding
The Little Christmas Kitchen
The Grand Reopening of Dandelion Café
The Vintage Ice Cream Van Road Trip
The Great Allotment Proposal
One Summer Night at the Ritz
JENNY OLIVER
wrote her first book on holiday when she was ten years old. Illustrated with cut-out supermodels from her sisterâs Vogue, it was an epic, sweeping love story not so loosely based on Dynasty.
Since then Jenny has gone on to get an English degree and a job in publishing thatâs taught her what it takes to write a novel (without the help of the supermodels). Follow her on Twitter @JenOliverBooks
Please join Annie & Matthew for a very kitsch-mas wedding
28th December, 3 p.m., at the Folly on Swan Island
followed by reception, afternoon tea and dancing at The Dandelion Café
Chapter One
Hannah walked into chaos.
When Annie White had said to meet her at The Dandelion Café on Christmas Eve, she had been expecting something more sedate. Perhaps involving a quick coffee and a slice of cherry pie as it snowed outside. Instead it was bucketing it down with rain, water dripping down the collar of Hannahâs duffle coat as sheâd run to shelter under the café awning. And it certainly didnât look like anyone was relaxing with coffees. Everywhere she looked there was someone doing something. Annie was up a ladder fixing garlands of miniature baubles to the ceiling in artful loops while calling orders to a sullen-looking teenager with red headphones on who was lining hot-pink fake Christmas trees up along the windowsill. A man who she recognised as the husband-to-be, Matt, from a photograph sheâd seen, was trying to fix a light-up reindeer to the wall, swearing loudly when it wouldnât do what he wanted, while a black-haired guy sat in a booth seat holding a tiny baby and, opposite, someone else had their head on the table fast asleep. There were boxes piled high on chairs and some that had toppled over scattering ornaments and tinsel to the floor. Pictures were leaning precariously against walls waiting to be hung while, at the back of the café, a stack of real Christmas trees lay in their white netting alongside tangled mounds of fairy lights.
It all looked momentarily too hectic. And instead of pushing the door open, Hannah took a step back into the shadow of one of the surrounding cherry trees, still under the shelter of the awning, and took a moment to collect her thoughts. To give herself a little pep talk.
Two months ago her life had been exactly as it had always been.
Two months ago her main memories of Cherry Pie Island were school games afternoons, when theyâd all traipsed over for rowing, canoeing and summer swimming in the outdoor pool, usually shivering on the sidelines as the clouds closed overhead.
Two months ago sheâd just completed her degree and was celebrating the fact she would no longer be referred to as a mature student.
Two months ago Annie White had bumped into her mum in the vegetable section of Sainsburyâs and when sheâd asked how Hannah was, her mum had proudly produced the newspaper clipping that featured Hannahâs degree show dress.
And suddenly Hannah was sitting in Annieâs living room, sipping on Earl Grey tea, nodding as calmly as she could as Annie pointed to a huge frothy white wedding dress and said things like, âJust go for it, Hannahâ and âI want it exactly like however you want to do it. Cut it up, chop it in half, whatever. Iâm handing all design detail over to you, which for me is a huge thing. But Iâve got this dress here, and it was my mumâs and Iâve wanted to use it but Iâve basically been procrastinating for months about what to do. And then your mum showed me the picture, of the dress you made, and I swear to god, Hannah, I have never seen a dress as amazing as that. It literally popped out at me. Pop. Out from the page. The real question is, I suppose, whether you can do something with this one in only two months.â