Page 85 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
He nodded.
‘Not a chance, Harry Anderly. Everyone loves you now, and this year’s going to be the best one ever.’
‘Even if Frank Carsdale recitesThe Odysseyon the open-mic stage and nobody else gets a look-in?’
Sophie grinned. ‘Now he’s got the bridge tournament to oversee, I’ve convinced him to pick a couple of his favourite verses. I told him the tournament is crucial to the community spirit of the event – which it is – and that he can’t let us down. He likes being important.’
Harry laughed and squeezed her hips. ‘You’re a genius.’
‘We’regeniuses,’ she corrected. ‘Genii? Anyway. As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.’ She leant towards him, until her face was inches from his.
‘Together,’ he whispered it, almost as if it was a new word and he wanted to see how it sounded.
Something shifted in Sophie’s heart. She still hadn’t told him that she’d decided to stay, and so far Jazz had kept her secret. There was a tiny part of her that was worried the moment she declared it, the whole thing – her growing happiness, everything with Harry – would dissolve in a puff of smoke, as if it had been a temporary Christmas spell, transient and ethereal, not set to last.
‘Penny for them?’ Harry said quietly.
‘All three games are working fine,’ Sophie confirmed. ‘Annie’s been testing them regularly, and I know she won’t let us down.’
‘No,’ Harry pushed a strand of hair off her forehead, ‘I mean, a penny for your thoughts. What’s going on back there? Behind those eyes I can’t stop staring at?’
‘Oh.’ Sophie’s heart squeezed harder. ‘I was just thinking about how much has changed.’
‘Do you know what that means?’ He sounded hesitant, so unlike him. ‘For … for after Christmas?’
At that moment, with their pets gathered around the crackling fire like an approximation of a nativity scene, and with this man who had let her into his life, who had opened up to her even when it wasn’t easy for him, Sophie wondered why she was finding it so hard to admit it: to say that one, simple sentence.
‘I … I think so,’ she said cautiously. ‘I think … that I’mgoing to stay.’ She could hardly hear herself over the beating of her heart.
Harry froze, his lips parted in surprise. Then he ran his warm palm up her jean-clad thigh. ‘You are?’ He said it lightly, as if he didn’t want to startle her.
‘I would like to stay,’ she said, trying the words out for size. ‘But could we … let’s get the festival out of the way, then we can talk about it properly. Would that be OK?’
The tenderness in his expression made it hard for her to breathe. ‘Of course, Soph,’ he said. ‘Ofcourse.You know how much I want you to stay – I hope you’ve realized that by now. But let’s talk about it then. And, actually, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say to you too, because I saw … Fuck!’ He jolted, grabbing Sophie’s hips to stop her falling off his lap as they were joined by a small, fluffy goat, who had jumped up and somehow managed to land in between them, on a very sensitive area.
When Sophie was steady, Harry let go of her and lifted Felix up, so he was dangling, bleating happily, revelling in hisLion Kingmoment.
Harry glared at him, his breathing slightly elevated. ‘Felix,’ he said seriously, ‘that is not on, OK? We men, we have to stick together, and jumping on a man’s …intimate partsis tantamount to betrayal.’
Felix bleated, and Sophie lost it, dissolving into laughter at Harry’s stern tone.
‘OK, Felix?’ he repeated.
‘Didn’t Felix get castrated?’ Sophie asked. ‘Male goats who aren’t smelly or aggressive have usually had their bits snipped, and Felix might be a lot of things, but he isn’t either of those.’
‘I got him castrated when I rescued him,’ Harry said. ‘That’s not the point.’
‘It isn’t?’
Harry leaned over and, very gently, put Felix on the floor. ‘I don’t know why you’re finding this so amusing,’ he said to her. ‘The state of what’s in my boxers affects you too.’ He raised an eyebrow, and Sophie’s laughter faded. She found herself dissolving for an entirely different reason, and had to go and get her notebook from Harry’s desk – the sleet and wind still battering against the window – so they could run through what they had to do before kick-off without getting waylaid by other things.
The next day, Saturday the twenty-first of December, was the opening night of the festival. The sky was grey and the wind was whipping the sea into a fervour, sending herds of white horses galloping towards the shore and shaking the bare branches of the trees. But the lights had stayed put, and the green was relatively sheltered, both by the oak tree and the village hall, and at least the rain and sleet had stayed away – so far, anyway.
‘Yes!’ Sophie fist-bumped the air.
‘What is it?’ Harry stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing the – now mended – Santa trousers, and a slim-fitting white T-shirt that hugged his torso.
Sophie got lost for a moment, enjoying the sight of him looking so good in her flat. They’d decided to get ready here, as it was so much closer to the green, and if itdidstart raining, they wouldn’t get too soaked before they arrived.
