It’s a Wonderful Life: The Christmas bestseller is back with an unforgettable holiday romance

‘It’s not a problem, Mary,’ said Daniel, stepping forward to put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on, we can pick it up, a little bit of dirt won’t kill us.’

‘I don’t care about the bloody turkey,’ shouted Mary, her crying stopping as abruptly as it started. Daniel was shocked. He couldn’t recall ever hearing his mother-in-law shout. She turned round to face them just as Fred wandered in, looking confused.

‘Is everything all right in here?’

‘What do you care?’ said Mary with a surprising bitterness.

‘Mary, not today,’ warned Fred.

‘Why the bloody hell not?’ she said. ‘Just because it’s Christmas?’

‘Yes, because it’s Christmas,’ said Fred. His voice was rising too, and he was looking decidedly red around the gills. ‘You know, family time and all that.’

‘Could someone kindly tell me what’s going on?’ said Lou.

‘I’ll tell you what’s going on,’ said Mary. There was a brief pause, and Daniel found himself holding his breath; he had never seen his mother-in-law behave this way. What on earth was the matter? Mary looked around the room, her hands on her hips. ‘Your dad is a cheat and a liar and is having an affair with Lilian Mountjoy. And I’ve had just about enough.’

You could have heard a pin drop. The entire Holroyd family stood in total shock. At which point, Rachel wandered in and said innocently, ‘Can I do anything to help?’

Part One (#ua0f60fb7-6a86-5bf5-8b3c-cff3eac0c431)

The Littlest Angel

The Littlest Angel was very excited. The whole Heavenly Host were preparing for a Big Event.

‘The Big Event,’ Gabriel said.

There had already been a buzz around a baby who had been born a few months earlier, but Gabriel said this baby was going to be even more important. This baby was going to save the world.

The Heavenly Host was going to go and tell people, and for the first time the Littlest Angel was going to be allowed to come too.

‘Is it today?’ the Littlest Angel asked her mother.

‘Not today,’ said her mother.

‘Is it today?’ asked the Littlest Angel the next day.

‘Not today,’ said her mother. ‘But soon.’

The days went by and still it wasn’t the right day, until finally the Littlest Angel asked, ‘Is it today?’

And her mother said, ‘Yes, it’s today.’

‘Yippee!’ cried the Littlest Angel. And she got ready to go.

Vanessa Marlow: What baby?

Beth King: Um, John the Baptist.

Vanessa Marlow: What’s the Heavenly Host?

Beth King: The angels.

Vanessa Marlow: What stops her from going? How does she get lost? Who does she visit on the way?

Beth King: Vanessa, I’m trying to work this out.

Vanessa Marlow: Can’t she go round the world visiting different people?

Beth King: Why would she do that?

Chapter One (#ulink_1beb2a92-71bc-5591-b1c5-c52047910a15)

Beth

The Littlest Angel set out on her journey, and soon she was very lost …

I am sitting staring into space. I’ve been working on these same two double-page spreads for months. I’ve promised my publishers something new for the Bologna Book Fair in April, where they’d be keen to show it to foreign agents, but it’s rapidly approaching and nothing is forthcoming. I’ve never hit a wall like this before. Light-years ago when my original editor, Karen, had suggested this idea, we’d both been dead excited. We had a wonderful brainstorming meeting with the art department followed by a boozy lunch, and I came home completely fired up. This was going to be my biggest book yet – I just knew it.

At first it went great guns. I developed a rough draft which Karen loved, and the first couple of spreads which I did for Bologna last year just drew themselves. The next lot were a bit trickier, but then I hit a stone wall, and I had nothing new for the Frankfurt Book Fair in October. By then Karen was on maternity leave, and her replacement, Vanessa, had been inundated with work. I didn’t want to overwhelm her with my problems, and I thought my lack of enthusiasm was just a blip. But as the weeks disappeared, and my self-imposed deadlines kept slipping away, I knew I had to do something. So I bit the bullet in late November and rang her up.

Whereas Karen would have laughed and teased and said something comforting, Vanessa just sat on the other end of the phone in silence.

‘So how much have you done?’ she said eventually. She can only be in her mid-twenties, but her tone was so severe, I felt like I was up before the Head for not having done my homework.

‘I’ve got some roughs,’ I said, knowing it sounded lame.

‘Roughs?’ she said, so disapprovingly that my heart sank. ‘I was expecting some finished spreads by now. We do want The Littlest Angel out for next Christmas.’

Me too, I thought, me too. This was not going well at all. I could really have done with some reassurance. Karen would have known exactly what to say, but all Vanessa came up with was, ‘Do you think you can get them worked up by the other side of the New Year?’

She sounded tetchy and cross, which made me feel worse. I felt bad enough about being late as it was, I didn’t need lecturing.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best.’

With Karen I would have told her the truth, said nothing was working, and that my work was in the doldrums in a way I hadn’t encountered before. But Vanessa was still an unknown quantity. I wasn’t sure how she’d react, so I couldn’t face telling her the truth. Particularly if it meant a telling-off.

There was another pause on the other end of the line, followed by an exasperated sigh.

‘Well, I suppose we’ll have to hope your best is good enough.’

‘I suppose we will,’ I said. Vanessa was making me feel completely dispirited, and it wasn’t helping at all. ‘It’s all I can do.’

‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘I look forward to seeing what you’ve done in January. I hope by then you’ll have something to show me.’

‘Right,’ I said, putting the phone down. I felt like banging my head against the wall.

Since that call I’ve tried really hard, but something is missing. The special spark of whatever it is that marks out a Beth King picture book (Sunday Times bestseller, don’t you know?) just isn’t there. And I don’t know what to do.