Page 18 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘It’s too babyish. And it doesn’t fit me. I’ve grown,’ Sara announced. ‘See? I used to be up here—’ she put a finger on Harriet’s arm ‘—and now I’m this tall.’ She placed her hand on the top of her head, then transferred it to a spot just below Harriet’s shoulder.

Sara might be overly optimistic when it came to her height, but Harriet realised the child was right – her daughter had indeed grown. She seemed to have shot up since last week. And so had Bobby, she thought. The joggers he had on today were at half-mast. Both children were in urgent need of new clothes, and Sara might have a wardrobe full, but how many of them still fitted her properly?

Harriet groaned – if she had to buy new clothes for both of them, it was even more imperative that she bought second-hand.

‘Let’s have a look through your clothes first, eh? See what fits and what doesn’t, then we’ll go from there, shall we?’ Harriet suggested.

‘When? Today?’

‘Not today. How about Friday?’

‘Then I can go shopping for new clothes on Sunday!’

‘Sorry, no, we’re going to Granny and Grandad’s on Sunday.’

‘The Saturday after?’

Harriet said, ‘Possibly.’ She wanted to see whether any of the clothes already in her daughter’s wardrobe were suitable first.

Typically, Sara heard only what she wanted to hear. ‘Yay!’ she cried, twirling the tea towel that she was clutching around her head and dancing out of the kitchen. Then she dashed back in, thrusting the tea towel at Harriet. ‘You’re the best mam in the world,’ she declared, before skipping out again, leaving Harriet feeling a total failure, because she had no intention of taking her daughter on a mammoth shopping trip to the nearest town any time soon.

Harriet dreaded breaking the news to Sara that her clothes shopping was going to be done here in Foxmore – in the charity shop. Or, failing that, the car boot sale.

Harriet felt like crying. It was one thing being noble about not buying anything new for the rest of the year, but it was another thing entirely being forced into it by circumstances, and she was not looking forward to telling Sara. And not just because her daughter would be upset. Didn’t every parent want their children to have the best?

Looking back, Harriet certainly hadn’t wanted for much when she was growing up. She knew her parents had sacrificed a lot to ensure that she and her brother had a wonderful childhood. Never once had she considered how her mam and dad had been able to afford her ballet lessons or her brother’s rugby tournaments, her passion for horse riding or Simon’s for playing the guitar. Of course, neither she nor her brother had goteverythingthey had wanted – there had been limits – but she had never felt a lack of anything. And it broke her heart to think that her two children would be forced to stop and think about the price of everything from now on.

Sara and Bobby, bless them, were oblivious to her mood as they stepped outside, Etta pulling excitedly on the lead, and for once Sara hadn’t moaned about walking the dog.

‘This is the wrong way for the river, Mam.’

Bobby’s voice brought her out of her dismal thoughts, and Harriet realised that they were heading out of the village and towards Aled Harris’s farm. Her feet must have subconsciously brought her this way because this was where the boot sale was held, and she had been so wrapped up in thoughts of second-hand stuff that she hadn’t paid attention to where they were going.

She hadn’t been down this way for ages, so it made for a change, and Etta would love all the new smells in the open fields. Before they’d had the children, she and Declan used to go for long walks on the hillsides surrounding Foxmore, but after the kids had arrived, those long walks in the mountains had dwindled to nothing. Harriet had hoped that having Etta would encourage the family to get out and about more, but then Declan had left and the most Harriet could manage was a stroll along the riverbank once a day. And even that went by the wayside when the nights drew in and the weather was foul.

‘Mam, this is the wrong way for the river,’ Bobby repeated.

‘I thought we’d have a change of scenery,’ Harriet said. ‘We always go down to the river.’

‘We’re not going up there, are we?’ Sara grimaced, pointing to Aled’s farm and the hillside above it.

It was quite a trek to get to the top, and although Harriet would have been up for it once upon a time, she didn’t think she could manage it now. Besides, it would be dark soon, and there was no way she was trekking up any mountain in the dark.

‘We’ll just go as far as Aled’s bottom field and if there aren’t any sheep in there, Etta can have a good run around, then we’ll go home,’ she told Bobby, as they reached the edge of the village and began walking along the path next to the lane.

It was only when the path veered off towards the field and the public right of way – and she spotted his van parked against the hedge – that Harriet remembered Owen was camping there.

Oh, really? She had onlyjustremembered? Pull the other one!

She ignored the sarcastic voice in her head and carried on walking. Anyway, it was too late to turn back now without the kids asking questions. Besides, Etta still needed a walk. And Owen had seen her…

‘Who’s that man?’ Bobby asked as Owen waved to her. He was sitting outside the van, tending to an open fire. ‘What’s he doing?’

‘His name is Owen and he’s camping here.’

‘He’s got a fire. Wicked!’ Bobby scampered off, Etta in tow, heading for the van and the fire pit in front of it.

‘Don’t get too close,’ Harriet shouted after her son. ‘And don’t let Etta off the lead!’ The last thing Harriet needed was a dog with a burnt nose because she’d stuck it into the flames. Etta might be a sweetie, but she wasn’t the brightest mutt in the kennel.

---