Page 4 of Christmas at the Little Bookshop by the Sea

Florrie’s eyes swept over the scene before her, the glow from the hundreds of fairy lights illuminating her face. Lark had clearly let her creative side loose on her festive display. The window was framed with thick, frost-covered faux Christmas tree branches, trimmed with silver baubles, fir cones and large white feathers. Standing in the centre, to a backdrop of a night sky studded with a scattering of tiny blinking stars, was a mannequin wearing a vintage white maxi dress shot with strands of silver.

‘It’s stunning!’ Florrie gasped.

‘It is,’ said Ed, sounding suitably impressed. ‘It’s going to give our displays a run for their money, no doubt about it. And don’t you think the mannequin looks a bit like Lark herself, with its blonde hair and serene expression?’

‘Ooh, yes, I see what you mean.’ Florrie gave a warm smile at the thought of her sweet-natured friend. ‘I bet you won’t be the only person who says that. Actually, now I think about it, I can see Lark in that dress, too – it’s very her.’

‘Yep, me too. Maybe she’ll sneak in the window and create a live display.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ she said, chuckling. Florrie felt the fizz of excitement in her stomach as she turned and gazed around the square. Everyone seemed to be making more of an effort this year; even Cuthbert, Asquith & Co, the stuffy solicitors’ firm, had a fully decorated Christmas tree in their window.

Ed followed her gaze. ‘Yeah, there’s only a couple of shops left to finish their window displays. Wait till tomorrow when we can share ours with everyone.’

‘Ooh! I’m so excited for them all to see it.’ Florrie beamed a smile at him. ‘I know they’re going to love it.’ She shivered, suddenly aware of the cold that was nipping at her face and seeping up through her boots.

‘Come on, you look nithered already,’ Ed said, using a Yorkshire expression for being cold. He rubbed his hand briskly up and down her arm. ‘Which way do you fancy heading back? The quick way through the streets and alleyways or along the top prom?’

‘I know it’s freezing, but I really fancy getting some fresh air. Are you okay with the top prom?’

‘The top prom’s cool with me, and I reckon Gerty wouldn’t mind the extra leg-stretch. Best foot forward, that’ll warm you up.’ He held his arm out and she slipped hers through it.

Getting some fresh air wasn’t Florrie’s only reason for wanting to head back along the prom; she was eager to see the Christmas trees in the large windows of the Victorian houses that lined the road. Their occupants always went to town bigtime with the decorations, trying to outdo their neighbours. Festive wreaths were the latest thing that had become a focus of neighbourly competition – the bigger and more opulent, the better. Florrie wasn’t disappointed by what she saw as they made their way along the broad sweep of the prom. More trees had gone up since the previous evening, shining out and joining the glow from the lights that had been strung between the vintage streetlamps. Florrie’s heart lifted at the sight – it was as if the residents of the little seaside town couldn’t wait to embrace Christmas. She caught Ed’s eye, exchanging a smile with him. He squeezed her arm, making her smile grow wider.

They strode along, the salty air blowing in off the sea stinging her cheeks as they chatted away, only pausing for Gerty to have a quick sniff at whatever pungent aroma caught her interest. Florrie gazed up at the clear inky-blue sky. It was splashed with millions of tiny stars, in the middle of which sat a pale moon, quietly casting its luminescent glow. On the beach below, waves crashed against the line of pebbles on the shoreline, mingling with the odd cry from a solitary seagull. Out to sea, a solid wall of darkness was punctuated only by the clusters of lights from ships making their way along the busy shipping route to and from Teesside further up the coast.

They only encountered a handful of people on their way home, mostly dog walkers and the odd car driving by. At this time on a Sunday evening, everyone would no doubt be hunkering down in readiness for their favourite TV drama, kids doing last-minute homework.

As they walked on, Florrie wondered if her old boss was looking down, a fond twinkle in his eye, revelling in his role that had brought her and Ed together, and the resultant renaissance the bookshop was enjoying. She hoped he was.

THREE

By the time they arrived at the gate of Samphire Cottage, Florrie’s hands and feet were numb with cold. She pushed open the front door, welcoming the warmth from the central heating as it wrapped itself around her. She kicked off her boots and unwound her scarf, the contrasting temperatures making her glasses steam up almost instantly, while her cold fingers started to tingle as she struggled to undo the toggles of her duffle coat.

Once Ed had freed Gerty from her lead, the Labrador trotted down the hallway to the kitchen on her usual quest for food.

‘S’good to be home,’ he said, hanging up his coat on the run of hooks by the door. ‘I’ll get the fire on in the living room straight away, then it’ll be ready for when we get settled down.’

‘And I’ll stick the kettle on, just as soon as my glasses have cleared,’ Florrie said with a laugh, as she attempted to peer through the misty lenses, molelike.

‘Mmm. Sounds like a plan.’ Ed smiled down at her, planting a kiss on the end of her nose. ‘Ooh, that’s seriously chilly.’

‘You should feel my feet.’ She wrapped her arms around his middle, snuggling close and savouring the warmth that emanated from him, the mist gradually clearing from her glasses. ‘Let me steal some of your toastiness!’

‘You’re not expecting me to kiss those, are you?’ he asked, feigning a look of alarm.

‘What?’ She tipped her head back, looking up at him quizzically.

‘Your feet.’

‘My feet?’

‘Yep.’ He nodded.

‘Don’t be so daft.’ She giggled.

‘Phew!’ He grinned, delivering a kiss to her lips.

‘Hey, you, they’re not that bad!’

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