Page 28 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
Sophie laughed. ‘They’re so affectionate.’
‘Sickening, isn’t it? They’ve completely failed to live up to their names.’ She looked up in time to see a brief flicker of a smile, there and then gone. ‘Let me take your coat.’
Sophie slipped out of her coat and Harry hung it on the tall coat stand that, she couldn’t fail to notice, was electric blue. She loved how the hall had its original features alongside splashes of creativity, of colour and energy, and wondered if he was planning the same style for the rest of the house.
‘Do you want anything to eat or drink?’ he asked. ‘It didn’t escape my attention that Winnie didn’t even offer us a cup of tea.’
‘What areyouoffering?’ Sophie was expecting a glass of water, maybe a mug of PG tips.
He shrugged. ‘Beer and a cheese toastie?’
‘That would be perfect.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, and decided to try her luck in the face of his sudden hospitality. ‘And a tour?’
‘Not a chance,’ Harry said. ‘Not right now, anyway. You can wait in my study: the kitchen’s a total shitshow, but it’s clean enough to cook in. I’m not about to poison you.’
‘Good to know.’
Harry led her to the door on the left of the hallway, then pushed it open. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be back soon.’
‘OK.’ Darkness and Terror stayed with her, pawing and sniffing, not letting her forget their presence as she took in her surroundings and tried to make sense of Harry’s sudden about-turn. Had May told him to play nice, or had he reasoned that everything would be a whole lot harder if he wasn’t at least cordial with her while they worked together?
His study had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that took up two of the walls and were filled with a jumble of hardbacks and paperbacks. Some were organized in neat rows, others stacked vertically as if they’d been put down in a rush. They all looked fairly modern, with none of the old-fashioned, leather- or clothbound tomes like the one she’d received.
A large pine desk stood under the window, the pale wood gleaming in the light of a second fire that May must have lit in the fireplace on the opposite wall. The desk chair was modern, and a shiny MacBook was partly hidden beneath untidy piles of papers.
The window behind the desk was framed by heavy curtains, but they’d been left open, exposing the room to the night, and a frayed rug lay over old carpet in front of the hearth, where two leather chairs faced each other over a low coffee table. Sophie flushed when she noticed a chess set on a separate table in the corner of the room – it looked as if Fiona’s musings had been fairly accurate – but it was a large, elaborate set with pieces shaped like characters that must have been from a book or a film. She didn’t recognize them, and she was desperate to ask him, to discover a little piece of Harry Anderly geekiness.
The armchairs by the fire felt too intimate, so she sat in the fabric chair on the other side of his desk, facing the window, and – as if needing to demonstrate how focused she was – cleared a space amongst the papers and got her notebook out.
The dogs got up before she heard Harry’s footsteps, and when he shouldered the door open carrying a tray, they were quicker to reach him.
‘Down,’ he said firmly, as they angled their noses up. Sophie couldn’t blame them; her mouth was watering at the delicious smells of grilled cheese and toast.
‘Shall I …?’ She stared at his desk, unsure what to do.
‘Just move it all to the windowsill.’
‘Just …’ She mimed picking it all up, and he nodded.
She scooped up as many bits of paper as she could and, purposely not looking at them, slid them onto the wide windowsill, then moved his sleek laptop to the side. She wondered what he did, now he was back in Mistingham. Had his London job allowed him to work from home? He was clearly modernizing the manor, but was he doing that full time? The amount of paperwork suggested otherwise – unless these were all documents to do with the running of the estate. Every new question that was answered seemed to raise at least five more in its place.
‘Thanks.’ He put the tray down, then moved the plates and bottles of beer onto the desk, settling himself in the chair opposite her as he ordered the dogs over to the rug in front of the fireplace.
‘This room isn’t finished,’ he told her, gesturing vaguely at the bookshelves.
‘It’s cosy, though,’ she said. ‘Even in its unfinished state.’
‘A bit gloomy. There’s too much dark furniture.’
‘Was it your dad’s?’
His shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh, and he nodded. ‘He spent a lot of time in here when he wasn’t at the bookshop. The view from the window looks down to the sea – I mean, you must have realized: it’s at the front of the house.’
‘But your desk chair faces away.’
Harry rubbed his jaw, his stubble rasping. ‘I wouldn’t get much work done if I faced the window. I’ve always found the sea a bit too mesmerizing … Anyway, dig in.’ He picked up one half of his sandwich, and Sophie did the same. It was so good, the bread golden-brown, the Cheddar thick and strong and gooey, still bubbling as it oozed out of the sides.
‘I didn’t put in any onion or chutney. I didn’t know what you liked, or if you were allergic to anything.’
