Page 31 of Christmas at the Little Bookshop by the Sea

‘Has anything else happened?’ asked Stella, her tone serious.

Florrie shook her head. ‘No, thank goodness.’

‘Oh, Florrie, I’m so sorry this has started up again for you,’ Lark said gently, her bracelets jangling as she rubbed her hand up and down Florrie’s arm.

‘Me too. Just don’t forget you’re not on your own, you’ve got us lot here to stick up for you, if that puffed-up little weasel starts giving you any hassle. We’re just a phone call away. We’ll see Dodgy Dick and his equally dodgy wife off for you,’ Jasmine said fiercely, raising a smile from Florrie.

‘And he really doesn’t want to mess with our Jazz,’ Maggie said with a giggle, setting them all off. ‘Remember when she tore a strip off that lad who’d been two-timing Lark?’

‘Ouch! How could we forget?’ Stella winced. ‘I reckon his lugs’ll still be ringing with it. What was that final insult you hurled at him, Jazz? A pathetic little knobhead?—’

‘—with a penis the size of a hamster’s,’ the others chorused, before collapsing into a fit of raucous laughter.

‘Oh my days! He was ten times the size of Jazz. His face was a picture, looking down at her!’ Maggie could barely speak for laughing.

Stella wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. ‘On a serious note, and like Jasmine said, don’t forget you can call on us anytime you need help. Day or night, we’re here for you, Florrie.’

‘Too right we are,’ said Lark, nodding vigorously.

‘Aww, thanks, lasses. You’re the best.’ Florrie glanced around to see four earnest faces looking back at her. Her heart filled with love for them. Not for the first time did she feel blessed to be a part of such a loyal and supportive group of friends. ‘I just wanted to let you know what was going on, but I’ve taken up enough of the evening and I didn’t intend to bring the mood down. Though remind me to tell you all about the exciting plans we have for the bookshop later on, but I’m not going to utter another word about myself until you’ve all had a chance to share what you’ve been up to.’

‘Sounds intriguing. And you haven’t brought the mood down at all.’ Stella smiled at her. ‘You’ve been there for us when weneeded you, my recent situation with my errant father being a prime example.’

‘And for me with that horrendous cousin of mine, and all the hassle she brought with her.’ Maggie shook her head disdainfully at the memory. Her cousin Robyn had turned up out of the blue and managed to wangle her way into their lives. It hadn’t taken long for her to put a huge strain on Maggie and Bear’s marriage, with her manipulative and deceitful ways. At one point, they thought she’d never leave. When she eventually did, she’d left a cloud of drama in her wake that had almost broken Maggie.

‘So, how’s the trial going, Stells?’ Florrie asked, keen to direct the focus on someone else. ‘Sounds like you were having a right scrap with that defence barrister you were against.’ Stella was a well-respected barrister who specialised in serious crime. When the friends were at The Cellar earlier in the week, she’d mentioned that she was prosecuting a particularly vicious assault trial against counsel who believed every client he defended was innocent, no matter how heinous the crime they were charged with. He’d gained a reputation at the bar for relentlessly attempting to wear his opponents down in the hope they’d accept a lesser plea. Stella never backed down which frustrated him – and all her opposing counsel – no end.

Stella reached for the bottle of wine, topping up all but Maggie’s glass. ‘As far as Rory Sinclair is concerned, he fights his corner. I respect him for that. Though he wasn’t very happy when the jury came back with a guilty verdict for his client. The fact that it was unanimous on all counts made the victory extra sweet. That, and the knowledge a dangerous criminal has been locked up and the streets are safer for it.’

‘Well done, Stells,’ said Florrie. She admired her friend for how she could tackle such horrific cases and pack them away, not letting them intrude on her personal life. It took a strong person to be able to do that, she thought.

‘And has he got over his disappointment at you being all loved up with Alex?’ asked Jasmine, flashing her a cheeky grin.

‘Not so sure disappointment’s the right word, but he’s given up asking me out for dinner.’ Stella smiled back at her.

Stella had been resolutely single and had never been in love until she’d met Alex Bainbridge earlier in the year. Before then, Stella’s approach to dating had meant for some entertaining stories of a Friday evening, as she’d shared details of her latest dalliances. But Florrie and the others had always thought there’d be someone who’d capture Stella’s heart when she least expected it. Which is exactly what had happened.

Just then, the pub door opened and an icy breeze whooshed in. The friends turned to see Ando Taylor holding it open as if waiting for someone to come through. Whoever it was evidently wasn’t in a hurry.

‘Brrr! Bloomin’ ’eck, get that door shut!’ Jasmine shivered.

‘Jeez, it’s freezing.’ Lark frowned, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

‘Why would you keep the door open like that?’ Florrie asked.

‘I think common sense has clearly escaped him this evening,’ said Stella as a round of complaints went up from the other customers. Still, Ando seemed oblivious.

Eventually craggy-faced local fisherman Lobster Harry rolled in wearing a gap-toothed smile and a light dusting of snow on his well-worn mariner’s hat.

‘Take your time, why don’t you, Harry?’ Maggie rolled her eyes as the door slammed shut and the pair ambled their way over to the bar.

Jasmine had just started telling them about the latest problems with her ex-in-laws, who appeared to take great pleasure in making life difficult for her, when Ando appeared by their table. Florrie was relieved to see he wasn’t worse for drinkas he often was by this time of the evening, having propped up the bar for several hours.

‘All right, lasses?’ he asked, resting his hand on the back of Stella’s chair. She gave a small lift of her eyebrow. In his mid-forties, he had a weather-beaten face that belied his usual youthful garb of battered leather jacket, slashed jeans and a baseball cap worn back-to-front, covering his straggly bleach-blond ponytail.

‘Aren’t you freezing in those jeans?’ Jasmine asked, frowning. ‘Surely they won’t be any use at keeping the cold out. I feel nithered just looking at them.’

‘I don’t feel the cold, like,’ he said, with a hint of a swagger.

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