Lottie's School of Dance

by Annette Hannah

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Lottie Daniels is dancing up the altar in Canada when she realises her whirlwind wedding is a big mistake. Chad isn't the right person for her at all! And, in that moment, Lottie goes from dancing bride to runaway bride.

Much to her brother's relief, Lottie decides to return to Bramblewood in the UK. But life has more surprises in store for her. After rescuing both a donkey and a little old lady called Doris - all with the help of a handsome stranger! - Lottie suddenly becomes a big part of Doris's life.

From broken dreams to second chances, Lottie finally has a chance to rebuild her life. When her friends suggest she takes part in a dance audition she refuses point blank but it soon becomes clear that destiny has other plans.

You are guaranteed to fall head over heels with this sweet and charming romance.

Release date: August 31, 2023

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 336

Sample

The chime of wedding bells echoed through the church, bounced off the rafters and drowned out the conversation beyond the wooden door she now stood in front of. The sun shone through the stained-glass windows, reflecting the red, blue and gold of religious scenes onto the white of her dress. Lottie hadn’t been inside a church since her mum’s funeral nine years ago when she was just seventeen and she wished more than anything that her parents could be with her now, although she was unsure whether they would entirely approve of her choice.

Her fiancé Chad had proposed after a day of drinking on his parents’ yacht, and she’d accepted without a second thought. He was handsome, exciting, rich and, most importantly, he made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the room. What more could she want?

He’d hardly noticed her at school but then nobody did; she was grieving the loss of her mother for most of it. She knew who he was, but then it would have been hard not to – he was the popular guy that all the boys wanted to be and all the girls wanted to be seen with. It was years later that he’d asked her out after seeing her dance at a party with her dance troupe. She could hardly believe it. He hadn’t even remembered her from school, she’d been that forgettable, and now as she stood in the foyer of St Michael’s Church, she could hardly believe that the girl standing there in the wedding dress was her. Lottie Daniels, soon to be Lottie Mills.

His mother Greta had taken over the planning as soon as they’d told her the news, which was why Chad’s dad Albie was walking her down the aisle and not her older brother, Blake, who lived in England now. Lottie had tried to protest politely but was guilted into agreeing because Albie didn’t have any daughters of his own. Lottie had always sensed an underlying disapproval from Greta but Chad dismissed any such suggestion when she raised it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Blake appeared in the church foyer with his fiancé Camilla. Lottie’s breath caught in her throat and her heart began to race; he looked so like their dad when he’d been younger that for a minute, she almost believed it was him. He gave Lottie a hug, trying not to crumple her dress or catch her veil and, holding her gently by each arm, he stepped back.

‘Well, will you look at you, my little sis looking so beautiful … Mum and Dad would be … well—’ His words caught in his throat.

‘Stop or you’ll get me started,’ said Lottie, overwhelmed by the love and pride in his voice and the tears in his eyes. The last time she’d seen him cry was at their mum’s funeral. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I don’t know how you manage it, Blake, but even at twenty-six, you still manage to make me feel like a dorky younger sister.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot to say beautiful and dorky, but I love you anyway,’ he replied, his brown eyes twinkling.

Lottie smiled through her tears. ‘I love you too.’ He wasn’t just a brother; at ten years older he was like a father to her. He had always been her protector and kept her safe. Dealt with all her teenage tantrums, getting drunk and hanging out with the wrong crowd.

‘Oh, come here,’ said Camilla, her calm voice cutting through the emotion like a hot knife through butter. She pulled a packet of tissues out of her bag and handed one to Blake before folding one into a point and dabbing at a few dots of mascara under Lottie’s eyes.

‘There we go, all better now. He’s right though – you look absolutely stunning. Is that a vintage dress? It looks so expensive.’

Lottie ran her hands along the material, feeling the hand-stitched pearls and sequins. ‘Yes, I would have liked something more modern, but this was Greta’s dress when she got married and she insisted I wear it. Chad loved the idea, so …’ She stopped talking and noticed Camilla looking deep into her eyes.

Camilla blew out a long, deep breath. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

‘Yes, of course, I’ve just got pre-wedding jitters, that’s all.’ She shook her head and laughed. ‘I’ll be fine. Anyway, how are you and how’s my little baby niece or nephew doing in there?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, and all good with our little cupcake.’ She patted her tummy.

‘Ah that’s so cute – I can’t wait to meet him or her and I’m coming to England as soon as you go into labour.’

‘That will be lovely, and you’re welcome anytime.’

‘By the way, thank you so much for offering to make the cake but Chad’s mum had it all under control. I’m sorry.’

‘No problem, I’ll make you a special one when you visit,’ she smiled.

‘You must be the brother,’ said Albie as he appeared through the door holding his hand out.

‘Yes. This is my brother Blake and Blake, this is Albie,’ said Lottie, pointing from one to the other.

‘The future father-in-law,’ said Albie, shaking hands with Blake, ‘and who might I ask is this delightful creature?’

‘This is my fiancé, Camilla,’ said Blake.

‘Pleased to meet you, Albie,’ said Camilla sweetly.

Lottie had to stifle a giggle when she saw Camilla use her tissue to wipe Albie’s sloppy kiss off her hand; many a time she’d had to discreetly wipe her cheek after one of his greetings.

Camilla took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Well here goes – I’ll see you on the other side when you’re Mrs Mills. Good luck, darling.’

‘Thanks Cami,’ said Lottie.

‘Ah Lottie, you look almost as beautiful as my Greta in that dress. Come on then, let’s get you wed and our son off our hands.’ Albie held his arm out for her to link it and her heart cracked open on seeing the look on Blake’s face. Even though he’d said he was fine when she told him that Albie had been asked to walk her down the aisle she could see how much it hurt him to actually see it.

‘I’m sorry, Blake, I wanted you to …’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘it’s all OK. I’m here for you anyway, always. May you be as happy as Mum and Dad were,’ he said, and pulled her close to him. ‘But if you have any doubts, it’s still not too late,’ he whispered in her ear, his beard tickling her cheek.

He pulled away again, winked at her and followed Camilla into the church.

Lottie’s eyes opened wide, and her stomach lurched; she didn’t know if she’d imagined those words or whether he’d really said them. He’d only met Chad a couple of times and while he hadn’t said he disliked him – I mean how could he? Chad was charm per­sonified – he had made several references to the fact that they hadn’t been together long. Lottie felt she had made a mistake once by moaning about Chad to Blake and he told her that he sounded like a spoilt little rich kid terrified of losing his inheritance. Maybe Chad was immature but they had fun, so much fun, didn’t they?

She remembered how her mum always said that she had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other and that every once in a while, she should listen to the angel. Lottie knew that Chad was definitely the devil’s choice.

Rachel, her best friend and bridesmaid, appeared and began titivating her veil.

‘You look gorgeous – you’re gonna knock him dead in there.’

‘Oh, thank you, so do you. Is everybody ready to go?’

‘Yes, don’t worry, it’s all going as planned so far.’ She pulled out a lip gloss from a little satin bag dangling from her wrist and began applying it to Lottie’s lips. ‘By the way, I thought you were still waiting to hear back from that job at Winters Dance School?’

‘Yes, the head dance teacher one. I am.’

‘Well, that’s strange because I’ve just been talking to Jodie and she said that she knows the person who got it and they said you’d been offered it but had turned it down.’

‘What?’ Lottie’s eyes opened wide and her stomach almost dropped to the floor. ‘No, I haven’t heard from them.’

‘She said you emailed them to say you wouldn’t have time now that you’re getting married. Here, blot.’ She placed a tissue between Lottie’s lips and Lottie did as she was told.

‘But that’s ridiculous, that’s my dream job.’

‘That’s what I thought. Oh well, we can sort that out later. Here goes.’ Rachel blew her a kiss and wished her luck.

‘Are you ready?’ Albie interrupted her thoughts, they moved forward, and the organ began playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’.

All eyes of the congregation were on Lottie and Albie now; a sea of joyous smiles greeted them and a quiver of excitement ran through her body. She saw a couple of her dance troupe friends who gave her the thumbs-up and butterflies began to multiply in her stomach. It was almost time for the surprise for her husband-to-be; she was so nervous she wondered if she should call it off but when the music stopped, and she heard the loud noise of a needle scraping across a record, she knew there was no going back.

The uplifting beat of Bruno Mars singing ‘I think I wanna marry you’ resounded around the church and Lottie’s bridesmaids began to dance. Two of them approached Albie and danced him up the aisle, much to his confusion and Lottie’s relief; she’d decided if she couldn’t have her brother giving her away then she’d have her friends instead.

Lottie broke into her dance routine and more of her dance troupe friends joined them to rapturous cheers from the congregation. Two of the guys cartwheeled down the aisle to her and lifted her, whilst others held circular frames to the side of her, two bridesmaids danced like dressage horses at the front and two more guys twirled large white spoked wheels alongside her. The overall effect was as though she were in a carriage; she felt like the leading lady in a Broadway musical. As they neared the end, they mimicked the door opening and another dancer helped her step down, then each member of the troupe twirled her then bowed before moving on.

Lottie’s heart sang with joy as she caught sight of Blake and Cami, who were clapping and dancing along with most of the congregation. She was so looking forward to catching up with them properly afterwards.

She turned to face Chad, only to see him and his mother exchange a glance and roll their eyes. Instead of the look of joy she expected to see on his face, she saw anger and possibly embarrassment. The butterflies in her stomach turned into a swarm of angry wasps, the scratched record sound happened again and ‘Here comes the bride’ resumed from where it had left off. Lottie’s heart raced and her breathing felt shallow.

Chad insinuated by jerking his head that she should get a move on. She looked down at the dress, beautiful but not hers, then at the engagement ring on her finger, expensive but bulky and not her at all, not chosen by the man she loved but inherited from his grandmother. As much as she loved the sentiment, she realised that apart from her brother, the only bit of her that she’d brought to this wedding was this dance. Her heart palpated and as the music came to a stop, she almost felt she could hear it beating out of her chest. A wave of nausea washed over her and Rachel’s words began swarming around in her head. A little niggle began to intensify in her head; Chad had been using her laptop lately but surely he wouldn’t have infiltrated her emails. There must be another explanation – he knew how much she wanted that job. She’d already turned down a job on a cruise ship because he didn’t want her to be away for so long, but this job was local and it was perfect.

Chad called her in a loud whisper through clenched teeth. She couldn’t move forward, as though a forcefield were stopping her. Her head began to feel woozy, and she took a couple of steps back.

‘Are you OK, Charlotte?’ asked the priest.

His concerned face swam before her and she worried that she was going to faint.

‘Lottie, what are you playing at?’ said Chad, his voice gruff.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t think I want to marry you!’ she said, shaking her head.

Chad’s jaw dropped and she thought his eyes were quite literally going to pop out of his head.

‘Did you intercept my emails? Did you turn my job offer down?’

The look on his face said it all and her pre-wedding Prosecco almost made a reappearance, as she shook her head.

‘Look, we can talk about this later. You don’t need a job – it’s not like it pays anything worthwhile,’ he sneered.

‘That may be so, but having that job would have made me feel worthwhile. Winters is one of the most prestigious dance academies around. I can’t believe you did that.’ The shock was turning to anger and tears stung the backs of her eyes. The angel on her shoulder looked like she was about to say I told you so, but then seemed to think better of it and shouted ‘Ruuuun!’

Lottie didn’t need telling twice. She shoved her bouquet in Albie’s hand, lifted her dress slightly at the front, turned on her heels and ran as fast as a greyhound after a rabbit. She heard loud gasps and people calling her name as she ran. It all seemed like a dream, and she half expected to wake up and for everything to be OK again but there were two things she knew for certain: one, she was not marrying Chad Mills and two, she was never going to humiliate herself by dancing in public again.

A couple of days later, Lottie got out of the taxi and walked up the path to Cupcake Cottage. She took a deep breath and with a shiver of trepidation, she knocked on the front door.

‘Surprise!’ said Lottie, doing jazz hands as the door opened.

‘Lottie, what are you doing here?’ said Camilla as she pulled her into a hug.

‘Blake, look who I’ve just found on the doorstep!’ she called.

Blake joined her and welcomed her into the house with a hug and a smile.

‘Well, you did say I could visit anytime and after you left to come back here, I just felt like I didn’t want to be at home anymore, not for a little while anyway. I mean, I should have been on my honeymoon to Bali, but to be honest, I’d rather be here with you.’

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ said Camilla. ‘Blake, can you put the kettle on and I’ll take Lottie upstairs.

‘I’m sorry, we’ve been using it as a storage space until the baby comes but we can clear some things out to make you comfortable,’ said Camilla as she opened the door to the spare room. It’s such a small house; Blake would like to move somewhere bigger but I love this cottage – I’d rather extend.’

‘Oh, it’s gorgeous, Camilla, so cosy, and I love the colour you’ve chosen for the walls too.’

‘Thank you – it’s called Lemon Delight,’ Camilla replied. Lottie took in the single bed, small bedside table, chest of drawers and mirrored wardrobes. Not for the first time, she wondered whether she had done the right thing in coming over. It felt a bit selfish now.

‘Here, let me move this.’ Camilla picked up the clothes horse and carried it through to her bedroom.

‘Where would Madam like her luggage?’ said Blake as he entered the room carrying Lottie’s suitcases.

‘Just next to the bed will be fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being a pain and I promise I won’t trouble you for long. I’d like to stay in England a little while so I’ll find my own place soon and be out of your hair.’

Blake put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘You might be a pain but that’s OK because you’re our pain and we love you. Besides, isn’t that what little sisters are for?’ he joked.

‘Come on, Blake, haven’t you moved that cot box yet – the poor girl has hardly got room to swing a cat in here.’ Camilla stuck her head in the door and winked.

‘Yes, come on, Blake, stop shirking,’ Lottie added, using a word her mum had said a lot.

‘Oh no, I can see I’m going to be completely outnumbered here once you two start picking on me. OK, I’ll get on with this if someone else makes the tea.’

‘I’m already on it,’ said Camilla as she made her way down the stairs. Blake grabbed the box and slid it under the bed. ‘There you go, I’ll just take these other boxes into our room and you just make yourself at home.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at the familiarity of him, feeling warm and safe from the connection they had to their parents. She could almost hear her mum’s voice calling them for dinner. She realised how much she’d missed him since he’d moved in with Camilla. Maybe the wedding fiasco was a blessing in disguise; she’d been stuck in a rut and now she could see she hadn’t wanted to get married at all but had been carried along with the arrangements. A fresh new start was just what she needed.

‘You’re going to be OK you know, kid,’ said Blake before leaving the room. She saw a hint of their beloved dad in his eyes, full of kindness and care. It hurt her to wonder what he would have thought of the mess she’d made had he still been around; everyone always said she was the apple of his eye, although she felt rotten to the core at the moment. She tried not to dwell on it too much.

She picked up a soft toy that had fallen on the floor, a little elephant, and stroked it with her thumb. ‘So soft,’ she whispered. ‘You know it’s really hit me seeing you and Camilla together here waiting for the baby. Mum and Dad should have been looking forward to their first grandchild being born.’

‘I know, life can be very cruel but we make the most of what we’ve got. I mean he or she is going to have the best auntie in the world and an amazing mum and dad of course.’ He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

‘I must admit, the thought of a new niece or nephew is keeping me going. I’m going to give this baby so much love on behalf of myself and our parents.’

‘Even when you need to change a diaper?’ he asked, screwing up his nose.

‘Even the smelly diapers! I could help around the house and babysit,’ she smiled as a vision of a chunky little baby sitting on her lap popped into her mind; she loved him or her so much already. I promise you I’ll be an auntie to be proud of.’

‘Tea and cake’s ready,’ shouted Camilla from downstairs. Lottie headed out the door and Blake raced her down the stairs just like he used to.

‘Still a torment, I see,’ she laughed.

‘Me the torment?’

‘Yes, that’s what Dad always called you.’

‘Only because he never saw you hounding me and then I’d be the one who got the blame when you ran complaining to him,’ he laughed.

Lottie put her thumb on her nose and waggled her fingers at him whilst sticking her tongue out. ‘Ooh, this cake looks delicious.’

‘I can assure you it tastes even better than it looks,’ said Camilla. ‘My assistant Angela made it and dropped it in as a welcome back present.’

‘It’s divine,’ said Lottie, tucking in. ‘Is that toffee I can taste?’

‘Yes, it’s a millionaire’s cake,’ Camilla laughed. ‘Chocolate, vanilla and toffee.’

‘I wish I could bake like this but I’m no good at it at all.’

‘Mum always used to say it was because you’re too impatient,’ said Blake, ‘although I can’t see what patience has to do with it.’

‘Ah, let me guess, oven door opener by any chance?’ Camilla guessed.

‘Oh yes,’ Lottie replied. ‘Every five minutes and they would sink like deflated balloons every time! I still do it now.’

‘Never say never! Maybe you could come and help out sometime – I’ll pay you, of course. Angela is an amazing baker now, but you should have seen the burnt offerings she brought in for her interview. Luckily, we got on so well I forgot to check them before I gave her the job.’

‘Well, I’d be happy to help out where I can, and I wouldn’t want paying.’

After a pot of tea and two pieces of cake, Blake offered to show her around the area.

‘No, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to be getting on with. I’ll pop out myself – I could do with walking that delicious cake off. She gathered her things together and after a quick glance at the map on her phone, she set off. She decided to start as she meant to go on and become the sensible, independent woman that her parents would have wanted her to be.

After a pleasant walk along paths between rolling fields where the only sounds she could hear were birds singing, Lottie arrived at Bramblewood station; she recognised the historical signal box that had been converted into a café from photographs that Blake had sent her. It was so quaint and unique that for a minute she felt as though she had stepped through the photo into another world, so different to what she was used to. She wished she hadn’t eaten so much cake already as she would have loved to go in. She continued up the high street to a bridge with slopes either side leading to the towpath along the river. She stood leaning against the wall of the bridge and admired the view. Ducks, geese and swans swam gracefully below her, leaving ripples in their wake that disturbed the glassiness of the still water and distorted the reflection of the willow trees whose branches skimmed the surface. Colourful narrow boats lined the banks and the towpath buzzed with runners, cyclists and walkers. She pulled out her phone and took some pictures, though this sight would be hard to forget.

As she walked over the bridge she could see more of the high street and at the end, opposite a mini roundabout, stood a clock house that was completely different to any of the surrounding buildings. The clock was wrong, she noticed, checking her watch, but the building looked steeped in history, including what looked like a dovecot or bell tower on top of it and the wall surrounding it. She headed towards it and passed shops and restaurants with bubble windows and beams, a playhouse and a sign for Hummingbird Lane, which was just off the high street. She stopped to take another photograph with the clock house as the main focus and the scene was like something from an old-fashioned Christmas card. She felt like she’d stepped back in time and two words that she’d never had occasion to use before popped into her head. ‘Quintessentially British’, The road forked just in front of the clock house; she turned left and walked along a path protected by trees which grew either side, high . . .