Page 70 of Only Ever You

Bash passed a glance at the clock on the wall. “Maman, I think that anywhere selling mistletoe might be closing by now, it’s nearly four o’clock.”

His mother wafted the dishcloth in her hand. “No, no. There’s some of it growing on the hawthorn down the lane.”

They both went, “Ohhh.”

Bash turned to Faye. “Shall we?”

She took in a breath and grimaced at the chocolate and icing stains on the counter. “I should probably get this mess all tidied up.”

“Ah, no—” Michèle came up behind her and nudged her towards the door. “You have done enough, Faye, thank you. I will see to the mess. And I need to begin preparing for tonight anyway.”

It really was rude to not help even a little, given that she’d caused all of this mess in the last few hours. But Faye saw in Michèle what she often felt in herself: the need to do things her own way.

“Okay.” Relenting regretfully, she looked down at her inadequate clothes between glances at Bash. “Let me go and get changed?”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you by the front door in ten minutes.”

* Sweetie

* They are stunning!

* What a good boy for helping the woman you?—

* Alright, mum. Alright

21

FAYE

Donning trainers,jeans, and her coat over a jumper, Faye met Bash under the arched porch. He had two pairs of gardening gloves and mini shears in his hands, bouncing on his toes as if he was cold.

“Ready to go trim a bush?” he asked.

Faye stopped looping her scarf and stared at him on the porch step.

A dent pressed between his brows. “What?”

“I’m waiting for the innuendo.”

Bash gasped like he was on a theatre stage. “You’ve got a dirty mind, Faye Whittaker. I wasn’t going to say any such thing!”

Liar.Faye said as much with her eyes as she took a pair of gloves and shears off of him. “Let’s go.”

The entire sky had gone an eerie blanket of white even while the darkness tried to invade the afternoon. So much numb silence surrounded them, only their shoes and ruffle of their clothes made any noise.

They wandered down the lane until, sure enough, there was a tree dotted with white berries wedged at the side of the road between wild hedges – the hawthorn Michèle had mentioned, Faye presumed.

“Watch your back with the road,” Bash warned as he looked off towards the road’s bend not far away. “On second thought, I should’ve grabbed some high-vis vests or something.”

They were on the world’s narrowest path, but still this didn’t scream “safe.”

Naturally, Faye wasn’t a risk taker. If there was anything central London had taught her, it was that there was safety in numbers, and having two of them here was quicker than sending Bash out on his own.

“We’ll only be a minute.” She tried to justify the situation. There weren’t any cars on the road anyway, and if they needed to then they could use the torches on their phones.

Faye reached up and parted a couple of branches to get to the mistletoe, remembering something she’d glanced at reading in a news app about foraging on farmland. “Are we allowed to take this?”

Bash fiddled with tucking the ends of his gloves beneath the sleeves of his coat. “Don’t worry, Dad’s old friends with the farmer. It’s why he’s allowed to wander through these fields so much.”

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