Page 54 of Christmas at the Little Bookshop by the Sea

Florrie was relieved that Bear was giving her a lift down to the Jolly that evening along with the others this side of town. Though it had stopped snowing, the town was now covered in a couple of inches of snow which would make walking down Skitey Bank something of a challenge; Jasmine would be sure to end up in a heap on the floor, especially if she was wearing the boots she had on last time. It had been bad enough walking home from the bookshop, never mind how bone-numbingly cold it had become, and it would be even worse later tonight. Maggie had texted earlier, saying she and Bear would collect everyone in the LandRover at around quarter past seven, which gave Florrie and Ed a bit of extra time to chat about Jean and Jack’s proposition.

And, from their initial discussion, it would appear they both seemed keen to accept the offer.

‘I just have this really strong feeling that your grandparents would be over the moon to think that Jean and Jack were involved with the bookshop and helping secure its future,’ said Florrie. ‘They have a connection that goes back such a long way.’

‘True.’ Ed nodded. ‘And when you think about it, the bookshop played a big part in bringing Jean and Jack back together after all those years apart, which somehow would make their involvement extra special.’

‘Ahh, it so does.’ Florrie gave a happy sigh, recalling the day Jack had learnt Jean was the mother he’d come to Micklewick Bay in search of. ‘I think Jean and Jack investing in the bookshop would be brilliant, especially as they say they’re happy for us to keep running it as we are.’

‘I agree. It would be a wise move from a business perspective, too. Actually,’ he chuckled, ‘I can just imagine my grandfather looking down now, feeling thoroughly pleased at how things have panned out.’

‘Oh, you’re not wrong there,’ Florrie said. ‘He loved nothing better than a good old meddle, and we’re prime examples of that!’

At that moment, a photo of Mr H and Mrs H, Gerty sitting between them, fell forward on the old pine dresser, making Ed and Florrie start. Gerty jumped up from her bed, headed over to the dresser and whimpered.

‘Oh my days! That frightened the life out of me.’ Florrie pressed her hand to her chest, her heart beating rapidly beneath her fingers.

Ed got to his feet and picked up the photo. ‘Sending us messages from beyond the grave, are you, Grandad?’ He smiledfondly at the image before setting it down in its usual place. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a sign, wouldn’t you, Gerty-Girl?’ The Labrador wagged her tail as he gave her a quick scratch between the ears. He turned to Florrie, his eyes shining. ‘I reckon that was Grandad telling us to go for it.’

Florrie joined him by the dresser. She rested her hands on his broad chest. ‘You know what? I think you could be right.’ She smiled up at him, the look in his eyes making her heart skip a beat. In the next moment, his lips met hers, soft and warm as she let herself melt into his kiss.

‘Two years ago, I couldn’t even begin to imagine that any of this would happen. It’s crazy,’ Florrie said, once they’d pulled apart.

‘It is.’ He nuzzled her nose, his floppy fringe tickling her cheek. ‘But the best kind of crazy.’

She fell serious for a moment, Ed’s father and Dodgy Dick invading her happy thoughts.

Though she was reluctant to spoil the moment, the business proposition from Jean and Jack meant she felt compelled to broach the subject of his reluctance to speak to his father. She was mindful that it should be done gently, though, no wading in and asking head on. ‘What about your mum and dad? How do you think they’d react if we accepted Jean and Jack’s offer?’ she asked tentatively.

She felt his arms tense around her as a cloud passed over his face, snuffing out his smile. ‘I’ve got a feeling it wouldn’t go down well at all.’

‘Oh?’ She waited, watching his expression, her breath caught in her throat. It was the perfect opportunity for him to elaborate, to share what his father had said in that dratted phone call. But nothing was forthcoming. It irked her that there was something about Jean he wasn’t telling her. It couldn’t be anything bad, shereasoned. But it rankled that Peter Harte was potentially bad-mouthing such a thoroughly decent person as Jean.

‘Right,’ he said, releasing her from his embrace and stepping away, ‘I’d best go and check on the fire, see if it’s got going yet.’

Florrie watched him disappear into the hallway. Not for the first time she found herself wishing he was better at sharing things instead of bottling them up. Her emotions felt like they’d been tipped in a jar and given a thorough shaking with all that had happened recently, and his habit of clamming up didn’t help. If she was honest, it was draining. And she had a horrible feeling that something was brewing – and thatsomethingwas going to come to a head soon.

THIRTY-ONE

SATURDAY 16TH DECEMBER

‘Did you find what you were looking for when you came back here the other day?’ Florrie asked, taking a bite out of the chunky slice of toast she slathered with marmalade. She was sitting opposite Ed at the small, scrubbed pine table in the kitchen. The cosiness of the little room belied the below freezing temperatures outside where night was keeping daylight at bay. Even with all that had been happening, what with PC Nixon’s visit and Jean and Jack’s business proposal, whenever there’d been a gap in her thoughts, she’d found herself being pulled back to how he’d sloped back here on Thursday. That he’d offered no explanation had only heightened her suspicions; he could’ve made some excuse, said he’d forgotten something, but he hadn’t even bothered to do that. She had to keep reminding herself that Ed wouldn’t be considering Jean and Jack’s offer if he were having second thoughts about the bookshop, but it wasn’t enough, and a lingering doubt remained.

‘Huh?’ Ed flashed her a look she couldn’t quite fathom.

‘Thursday morning, when PC Nixon called round, you’d nipped back here. I thought you must’ve been looking for something.’Rummaging around the attic again, no doubt.

‘Oh, that.’ He smiled, making eye contact for the briefest of moments. ‘I, er… I’ve been looking for a little painting I made years ago. Came to mind last week, thought it’d make a good Christmas gift for Maggie and Bear. It’s of a cottage that reminds me of theirs. Been struggling to lay my hands on it.’

‘Okay.’ This was the first Florrie had heard of such a painting. ‘The men aren’t usually involved in the gifts, it’s just us lasses that buy for each other.’ Surely he could remember that from last year. ‘Which is why we’ve clubbed together and bought Jazz the tickets for—’ She clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, um, this thing we thought she’d like.’Yikes! That was close!

Ed gave her a puzzled look. ‘Tickets for what thing you thought she’d like?’

‘S’just thisthing, that’s all. Wouldn’t interest you.’ She turned her attention to brushing toast crumbs off her dressing gown, hoping he wouldn’t pursue it.

‘Surely you can think of a better way of describing it than a “thing”? I hope, for Jazz’s sake, it’s more exciting than it sounds.’ He gave a deep chuckle before adopting a faux cheery voice. ‘Merry Christmas, Jazz, here’s a ticket for a “thing” you like. Enjoy!’

Though he was laughing it off, Florrie could tell he wasn’t convinced by her explanation. At least he would get a taste of how he regularly made her feel, not that it was what she’d intended. ‘Can’t say. Sorry. Don’t ask anything else, cos I won’t tell you, even under pain of death.’ She gave a wide smile. She only had one day left before she could let him know about the tickets for the sleigh ride at Danskelfe Castle and she’d nearly let it slip. She’d got it all planned how she was going to tell him, and she didn’t want to risk spoiling it at the last minute.

---