Page 34 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
He nodded and swallowed. He didn’t release her gaze or pull his arm away, and Sophie felt the charge between them. But it was just surprise, wasn’t it? That he’d started to warm up, to tease and joke; that they actually seemed to be getting along with each other. That would make anyone feel off-kilter, especially after their less than positive start.
A seagull let out a plaintive cry, startling them both. Harry blinked and cleared his throat, and Sophie dropped her hand.
‘I’d better get back,’ she said.
‘Yes, me too. Too much daylight and I might turn to dust.’
She laughed. ‘You can’t be a demon, a vampireandSanta Claus.’
‘Can’t I?’ He sounded amused. ‘What a shame.’
They walked back to the clothes shop in a silence that felt almost comfortable, and Sophie couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whyhadhe agreed to help with the festival – a festival most of the villagers thought he had already ruined – instead of refusing Ermin’s request? Had May given him an ultimatum:stop being such an angry recluse and make peace with Mistingham, or was there another reason? It felt like another mystery she needed to unpack, along with uncovering who was behind The Secret Bookshop. She hoped spending more time with him would help her find at least one of her answers.
Chapter Twelve
Annie Devlin was five foot nothing but had a laugh twice as big as she was. Did it come from working in an amusement arcade? Being surrounded by people playing games, winning cuddly toys and bits of plastic that, while not the best quality, would remind them of a day out or holiday they loved?
‘Sophie, come, come!’ She waved expansively, and Sophie followed her into Penny For Them where, at lunchtime on a Friday in November, the customers were sparse but the jingling, doo-wop sounds of the games filled her head like audio candy. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m really good, thanks.’
‘Got a haul of change you want to use up?’
‘Not exactly.’ But she automatically felt in her pockets to see what was there. Was there anyone in the world who didn’t love a two-pence machine: a little cardboard cup filled with dirty bronze coins offering up all that possibility? ‘I wanted to talk to you about the festival, actually.’
‘Oooh. Let’s talk in here for a sec, where it’s quieter.’ Annie pushed open the door into a tiny office. There was a plain wooden table being used as a desk, two tatty office chairs, and a plethora of colourful children’s drawings on the walls, along with some framed family photos. ‘We’ve run out of space on the fridge at home,’ she said, when she saw Sophie looking. ‘Now, the festival. I saw how thrilled you were when Ermin teamed you up with that chap from the manor house.’
‘Harry Anderly,’ Sophie confirmed. ‘It’s actually going better than I hoped, and I wanted to check in with you. As it’s going to be a street festival again this year, I wondered if you would be happy to hire some festive games to have here?’
‘Of course. We’ve got a few different suppliers, so I’ll talk to Jim and let you know what’s available.’
‘That’s great,’ Sophie said. ‘Thank you, that was easy.’ There was a cacophony from the arcade floor, a series of dings and bells that were louder than the rest.
‘The pinball machine’s paid out,’ Annie explained. ‘Someone has won the grand sum of ten pounds.’
‘Woah. That’s a fortune for a day at the seaside.’
Annie laughed. ‘I know what you mean. You only need enough for an ice cream, a game of pool or duster hockey, then fish and chips before you go home. The beach is free.’
‘Although it’s a bit cold for paddling today.’
‘But never too cold for ice cream,’ Annie said, as they walked out of the office.
Sophie almost didn’t ask her next question, but this was the reason she’d accepted this role, and she couldn’t keep backing out. ‘On an unrelated note, I was thinking about starting a book club.’
‘You were?’
‘It’s the perfect activity for winter evenings, when you can’t always get outside. Would you like to be involved? Are you a big reader? What kind of books do you like?’ She forced herself to take a breath.
Annie folded her arms, the picture of practicality in her thick grey fleece, her blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail. ‘I read true crime, mostly. I can’t get enough of them: how the police and FBI track down serial killers. It’s fascinating.’
‘No … romances? Classics?’
‘Oh no, I don’t have time for all that. I need something fast paced, that grabs me and holds on tight. Jim likes Charles Dickens.’
‘Really?’ Sophie perked up, then thought how awkward it would be if Annie’s husband had given her the copy ofJane Eyre. And why would he? That was what would get her to the truth: finding someone who had a motive, who cared about what she was looking for in life, or else wanted to confound her. It should have been easy; her social circle in Mistingham wasn’t exactly large. ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve firmed up the details, anyway,’ she said. ‘Then you can decided if you want to come along.’ She was already pretty sure that Annie and her husband had nothing to do with The Secret Bookshop.
As they walked through the brightly coloured arcade, Sophie’s gaze fell on Whack-A-Crab. It was painted like a beach, with a glittering blue sea and yellow sand, the tops of the bright orange crabs visible inside their shallow holes. The large foam hammer was purple, attached to the game by a woven cord.
