Page 62 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
The mention of his name, when he’d been so much in her thoughts, gave her a jolt. She wondered how much May knew about what had happened the week before. ‘Harry has you,’ she said, which was a lot easier to admit now she knew their relationship was platonic.
May shrugged. ‘I’m there, but I work for a technical helpline quite a bit, then go out on calls. I meet friends in Norwich – I’m meeting you. Until he started working with you on the festival, Harry kept to himself, and he’s still doing that too much for my liking: roaming about the estate, getting into scrapes.’
Sophie could feel May’s gaze on her as she broke her scone into pieces. ‘I was thinking about starting a book club.’ She popped a piece in her mouth, the cheese rich and delicious. ‘I’ve been given this book, by something called The Secret Bookshop,’ she went on when she’d finished. ‘I thought I’d been singled out, but Winnie’s had one too, and it made me think about The Book Ends; how popular it was. Do you think people here would be up for a book club?’
May smiled. ‘I think it’s a lovely idea. I’m intrigued by these book gifts, though: they sound really special. You’d run the club as part of the festival?’
‘To start with,’ Sophie said. ‘We’re having events in the hall as well as outside, so I thought we could launch it there, and then – depending how much of a success it is – see about keeping it going.’
‘Beyond Christmas?’ May lifted her mug to her lips.
Sophie replayed her kiss with Harry for the thousandth time. The air had shimmered with possibility, and she thought he’d wanted more too, even as they’d both held back. She thought of Jazz, telling her that being in Mistingham, having that sense of security, had allowed her to be more generous. Could she change her plans? Let the shallow roots she’d put down here deepen?
‘Maybe,’ she said carefully. ‘I mean, if people were into it.’
‘I love it,’ May said. ‘You’d be at the helm, I’m guessing?’
‘I’m up for giving it a go. I haven’t got involved in much community stuff before now.’
‘Why not?’ May sounded genuinely curious.
Sophie spread more butter on her scone. ‘I’ve never stayedanywhere long enough to be asked, and I haven’t taken the initiative myself. Sometimes it’s easier to leave before things get too tangled.’
‘I can see that,’ May said. ‘I stayed too long in America, tried to make my situation work when it was beyond saving. But a lot of the time, sticking around is worth the complications. When it’s no longer worth the effort,that’swhen you extract yourself, not before you’ve given it a chance.’
‘I guess.’
‘Even if,’ May went on, ‘some of those complications put you in unfathomable situations, like trying to rescue goats from freezing lakes.’
Sophie groaned. ‘He told you about that?’
‘He phoned me to ask if he could lend you my clothes, and thatneeded an explanation if nothing else. Then, when I got home, he was polishing the hallway to within an inch of its life, and Felix looked as if he’d had a blow dry.’ She shook her head. ‘That goat is going to be the death of him.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Sophie urged, but she was grinning. ‘I can’t remember ever being that cold before.’
‘No, Harry said it wasn’t pleasant, which is funny, because after it happened he was in a really good mood. Cheerier than I’ve seen him for a while.’
Heat flooded Sophie’s cheeks. ‘He must have been relieved that Felix was OK.’
‘Yes, that must have been it.’ May sounded entirely unconvinced. ‘He’s a great guy, underneath that grizzled outer layer.’
‘I know that,’ Sophie said. ‘It takes a while for him to warm up, but once he has, once he knows he can trust you … he’s one of the kindest people I’ve met.’ Now she knewher cheeks were on fire, but she couldn’t help it: the memory of his lips on hers was playing on an almost constant loop in her head.
When she glanced up, May was giving her a knowing smile, as if she could tell exactly what Sophie was thinking about. ‘What book are you going to start with, for the book group?’
Sophie was grateful for the change of subject. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly, ‘but I was thinking about a classic. Something with a lot of atmosphere, that celebrates the beauty of the countryside, that’s romantic and uplifting – in the end, anyway.’ She pulled off another piece of scone, put it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. ‘I was thinking about maybe doingJane Eyre.’
Chapter Twenty
On Saturday, Annie phoned Sophie to tell her the festive games they’d hired had arrived, and were in the storeroom at Penny For Them. Sophie arranged to meet Harry there later that afternoon, the fact that it would be the first time she’d seen him since the night they’d rescued Felix uppermost in her mind.
She waited outside the arcade, enjoying the weak winter sun on her face, the hint of warmth after a series of cold, damp days, the soft mist that hung close to the water. Take a photo and it would look like a spring morning, rather than a Saturday at the beginning of December.
She turned away from the sea and saw Harry approaching from the centre of town. He had the collar of his dark jacket turned up, his features set in their usual impassive mask. Had he been thinking about their kiss as much as she had?
‘Hello,’ he said, when he reached her. ‘OK?’
‘Good thanks, you?’
