Page 55 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
Jazz’s smile was filled with pride. ‘I knew there was a reason I came here. Apparently, it was to teach you all a valuable lesson.’
Sophie laughed. ‘You might just be right.’
‘If you carry this off as well as I think you will,’ Fiona said to Sophie, ‘Ermin will recruit you as Mistingham’s permanent events coordinator.’
‘Fiona,’ she said, ‘I don’t think—’
‘You’d be great at that,’ Jazz cut in.
Sophie sighed. ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing next year.’
‘Are you off on a round-the-world trip?’
‘I’m probably moving to Cornwall,’ she admitted.
Fiona scoffed not so discreetly.
‘Why?’ Jazz looked puzzled. ‘Everything here’s pretty sweet for you, isn’t it? Do you really want to leave?’
Sophie hesitated. Standing in the warm shop, with her notebooks displayed elegantly on the shelves, with Fiona’s friendship and Jazz’s open curiosity, excitement about the festival bubbling just below the surface and the memory of Harry’s hand round hers, and his muted, distant expression when she’d told him about Cornwall, the answer to Jazz’s question seemed more elusive than ever.
She was about to offer up something non-committal, when the door of the shop opened and a family bustled inside, the young girl and boy, who looked about eightyears old and were possibly twins, staring wide-eyed at the twinkling lights, the colourful displays of clothing and notebooks: a Santa’s grotto a month before Christmas.
‘Hello,’ Fiona said brightly. ‘How can I help?’
Sophie stayed busy for the rest of the week, with a flurry of customers seeking out the perfect present and notebook commissions to work on in the evenings. In moments in between, she arranged to talk to villagers about the festival. Everyone knew it had moved back to Mistingham Green, and were adapting their plans accordingly. They’d taken the change in their strides, and Sophie was reminded that, apart from last year when Harry had kept them away from the oak tree, this was what they were used to.
She stayed in touch with him by text, but he hadn’t invited her to the manor again, or suggested they meet up for anything else. He was always enthusiastic; he told her he could arrange the speaker system for the open-mic night, the outdoor power they would need to run that and the lights, but every exchange was festival-focused, and Sophie thought he was distancing himself from her.
She should be grateful. It would make leaving a lot easier if their growing closeness was stopped in its tracks, but she felt the loss of him like someone taking a warm, comforting blanket away from her on a frosty night.
On Thursday she visited the hotel, and was greeted by Jazz, dressed in a white shirt and smart black trousers, her red hair styled in a fancy up-do.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked. ‘I was hoping to talk to Winnie about permits for the festival. My contact at the council has gone dark, and I need to check that our newlocation and plans are covered by the one we’ve already applied for.’
Jazz laughed. ‘Nervous, much?’
Sophie sucked in a breath. ‘Maybe,’ she admitted. ‘There’s a lot to think about. How have your first couple of days been?’
‘Great,’ Jazz said. ‘It’s a steep learning curve, and Mary’s had to remind me about not swearing at least five times – which is fucking nuts,’ she added in a conspiratorial whisper, making Sophie laugh. ‘But everyone’s really friendly, even the more hoity-toity customers, and it’s so nice to be …busy, I guess. To be doing something that isn’t completely self-centred.’ She smiled, but her words pulled Sophie up short.
‘What do you mean?’
Jazz’s gaze was direct. ‘Fiona told me you grew up in foster homes, so you must know what I’m talking about. When you’re on your own, and so much is out of your control, you have to look out for yourself, don’t you? Where will I get a hot dinner, where am I going to sleep, why does someone else deserve that job more than me?’
‘But that’s totally understandable,’ Sophie said in a rush.
‘I know it is,’ Jazz replied. ‘But Fiona and Ermin have been so kind to me, and now Winnie and Mary, too. Everyone here says hello – Dexter and Lucy, Natasha in the pub. Indigo.’ Her smile was fleeting, there and then gone. ‘I’ve got room to breathe, so I can start thinking about them now, too. I want to buy something nice for Fiona and Ermin, take them out to dinner if they won’t let me give them rent money. I can do a really good job here, because I know I’ve got somewhere safe to go to when my shift ends.’ Sheshrugged, suddenly bashful, as if she’d said too much. ‘It’s nice, being able to think about everyone else. You must feel that too, living here.’
Sophie returned her smile, but her thoughts were racing. She had always put herself first, always been focused on self-preservation. She remembered Trent saying that to her, when she’d told him that she wasn’t ready to move in with him. He’d accused her of never considering anyone else’s feelings, of being self-centred. She remembered Harry’s closed-off expression the other night. Had she ever stopped to think of other people over her own needs? What her decisions might do to them?
‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ she said half-heartedly. ‘Do you know where Winnie is?’
‘Probably in the office, mooning over some book she got given.’
Sophie’s pulse skipped. ‘A book?’
‘Yeah, it’s this beautiful edition of a book called …Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont. It’s by Elizabeth Taylor, but nottheElizabeth Taylor apparently.’
