Page 56 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
‘Who gave it to her?’
‘Beats me,’ Jazz said, but then the woman in question appeared behind her, her grey curls untamed.
‘It’s from somewhere called The Secret Bookshop,’ Winnie said with a laugh. ‘Though goodness only knows whatthatis. It’s one of my favourite books, though – which is not that surprising, considering what I do for a living.’
‘How lovely,’ Sophie managed, her voice scratchy. ‘And did it … was there a note with it? Any kind of message?’
Winnie frowned. ‘There was a postcard – one of the local ones: Mistingham Green in the morning mist, the sun risingover the sea beyond. It mentioned The Secret Bookshop on the back.Are you OK, Sophie? You look like a stunned mullet. Come to the office, and I’ll show you.’
‘“Have a very happy hotel Christmas”,’ Sophie read aloud.
Winnie’s office was small and neat, the scents of bacon and cranberry wafting through from the kitchen, a cold November rain splattering the glass. The book Winnie had been given was as beautiful asJane Eyre,the cloth cover pale blue, the title and author added in coral pink. No foil details, but it had the same logo as her book – a tiny house with chimneys – on the spine. But, compared to Sophie’s, the message was bland.
‘Lovely, no?’ Winnie said. ‘What a treat to have such a gorgeous edition of this novel.’
‘Who left it for you?’ Sophie turned the postcard over again, wondering if she would recognize the handwriting. She didn’t.
‘I’ve no idea, pet. But my name is on the postcard, and it came wrapped in this lovely brown paper. Left right here on the desk for me: someone must have sneaked in.’
‘How will you find out?’
Winnie finished typing something on her computer, then looked up at her. ‘I’m not sure I will. If The Secret Bookshop wants to give out Secret Santa gifts like this, then let them – that’s what I say.’ She chuckled. ‘I don’t want them taking it back. I’m due a reread, and how lucky that I get to do it with this edition? It might be my favourite Christmas present, and it’s not even December.
‘Now, Sophie love, what is it you need to know about a permit? Well done for talking Harry Anderly round, by theway. Seems like you’ve got some Christmas magic all of your own, because that can’t have been an easy thing to do.’
Sophie sank into the chair on the other side of Winnie’s desk, trying to ignore how much this quick visit to the hotel had upended everything. Jazz’s words, Winnie’s book. At the moment, the festival was proving to be the most straightforward part of her life, and that was saying something. ‘Thanks for helping, Winnie,’ she said. ‘I promise it won’t take long.’
Chapter Eighteen
Sophie couldn’t stand it any longer.
Jumbled thoughts ran on a wobbly loop through her head: Jazz’s comments about how important it was not to act selfishly; Harry’s lack of communication; the fact that The Secret Bookshop had sent Winnie a book and she didn’t even care about finding out who was behind it, when Sophie had been acting like some sort of mad private investigator to try and discover the culprit …
Had she goteverythingwrong? The one thing that was going right was the festival. Her ideas were coming together; they were accumulating the supplies, suppliers and permits they needed, and it would be a triumph as long as Harry didn’t give up on her. She needed to make sure that didn’t happen.
The weather was grey and drab, and she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who had come into Hartley Country Apparel that morning, even though she’d been making an extra effort promoting herbusiness on social media. After the last few days’ flurry of customers, the quiet hours just added to her frustration.
‘I’ll cover for you this afternoon,’ Fiona said. ‘If you can cover on Monday morning.’
Sophie looked at her in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. You’re bubbling over with nervous energy, so go and do whatever it is you need to do, and I’ll man the notebook stand.’
‘Thanks.’ She went to get her coat. ‘Doing anything fun on Monday?’
‘Jazz and I are decorating her room. She’s got a day off from the hotel, and last night she mentioned how much she loved the dark blue feature wall in the hotel’s dining room.’ Fiona smiled. ‘I asked if she’d like something like that, and she said she couldn’t possibly ask me to change the decor for her, but I told her that ofcoursewe could. So I think, maybe, she wants to stay for a little while.’
‘That’s great.’ Sophie wondered if Jazz was really serious about staying, but then realized she was just projecting her own insecurities, when Jazz had already proved she was much braver than Sophie had managed to be in thirty-seven years.
‘Taking a chance on her was the right thing to do.’
‘Giving someone a chance is always the right thing to do,’ Sophie said with a smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Have a good afternoon.’ Fiona waved goodbye, and Sophie collected Clifton, stepped out into the damp, cold air, and began walking in the direction of Mistingham Manor.
The treelined driveway looked sinister and imposing in the gloom, the grey stone manor looming ahead, and Sophie wondered how different it would be when Harry had installedspotlights all the way along here, like he’d told her he was going to. Would it seem more welcoming on winter days like this?
She crunched up the driveway, Clifton scampering at her side, and paused when she was in front of the house. There was no welcoming glow today, the windows like dark, eyeless sockets, and she felt a sudden prickle of foreboding. She walked up to the door and saw that it was open a crack, the Christmas wreath moving gently in the breeze.
