Page 80 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
Sophie leaned into Harry’s chest, noticing the surprised looks from Dexter, Simon and Jason, and knew that this bit of news would be all over Mistingham before the end of the day. She couldn’t find out who had sent her a beautiful, unusual gift – though not for want of trying – but a man kissing a woman on the head: well, that would be front-page news. She felt ridiculously happy that Harry must also have known that, and decided to do it anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘How are you and lover-boy, then?’ These were the first words that greeted Sophie when she stepped into the village hall on Thursday. It was nine days until the festival, and they’d agreed to have the hall open every evening, for people to come and make decorations, to drink tea and play board games. Jazz had called it a soft launch,and Sophie supposed it was.
She smiled at old Mr Carsdale. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You and Lord of the Manor,’ he said. He was wearing a royal blue scarf over a green and yellow Pringle jumper, even though they’d given the heating enough time to get going and it was toasty warm inside. ‘Everyone’s heard about the stir you caused when the lights went up.’ He gestured to the window, where the twinkling oak tree cast Mistingham Green in a beautiful rainbow glow. ‘Could have been done for indecent exposure, from what they were saying.’
Sophie narrowed her eyes. ‘He kissed me on the head and put his arm around me.’
‘You know what Mistingham’s like.’ Mr Carsdale had a gleam in his eye.
‘Good to see you’re abreast of everything in the village,’ Sophie said evenly. She had known she wouldn’t be able to keep her and Harry a secret, but they hadn’t been ripping each other’s clothes off on the front steps of the hotel. Maybe they should – that would give everyone somerealgossip. ‘Have you got everything you need?’
‘I’m going to teach the others to play bridge.’ He gestured to several of the older villagers sitting patiently around a table. ‘I don’t have the dexterity for all that fiddly crafting any more, but it’ll be good to get a bridge tournament up and running again.’ His smile was small and content, and Sophie’s irritation faded.
‘That sounds lovely.’
‘And I’ve been practising for the open mic.’
‘I have your name down,’ Sophie said, ‘but not what you’re doing. A bit of Frank Sinatra, maybe?’
‘The Odyssey,’ Mr Carsdale said. ‘By Homer, you know.’
Sophie tried to hide her panic. ‘The whole thing? Isn’t it several books’ worth?’
He chuckled. ‘We’ll see how we go.’
‘We will indeed,’ she said, wondering how she could cut him off politely.The Odysseywould take up an entire night of the festival – maybe two – and they only had four nights in total.
‘Tea’s on the way, Frank,’ Jazz told him. ‘It doesn’t look too bad, does it?’ she said to Sophie.
They’d been working hard in their spare moments this week, and Sophie took in the finished effect. Sets of gold waterfall lights hung over two of the walls, and there werenew, plum-coloured cushions on the plastic chairs. The trestle tables had been decorated with red and green tablecloths, and each one had a bud vase with a spring of holly in, and a couple of battery-operated tea lights.
They had lowered the screen, and Ermin’s laptop was projecting an image of a glowing fireplace, the wall-mounted speakers sending a low crackle through the hall. A real Christmas tree stood in the corner, its silver star brushing the ceiling, its mirrored baubles reflecting the twinkling silver lights, giving it a disco ball effect.
‘It looks amazing,’ Sophie said. ‘We’ve knocked it out of the park.’
Jazz beamed. ‘I’ll go and get the teas.’
The door pushed open, and Sophie went to greet the newcomers. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Come in and sit down.’
A man with a shock of grey hair was supporting a woman on crutches, a shorter, rounder man leading a crocodile of three small children, all under ten. Their excited giggles and wide eyes were all the confirmation Sophie needed that the hall looked the part.
‘Let me show you to the Decoration Station,’ she said to the excited group. Jazz had named it, a flash of inspiration so pleasing that Sophie smiled whenever she said it.
Indigo waved as they approached. He was wearing a green elf hat with a red bauble on the end, and he’d taken out some of his many face piercings. Sophie felt a rush of affection for him, especially when he opened his arms wide and greeted the children with a squeaky rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’ that had them in fits of giggles.
She grinned at him, then went into the kitchen, where Fiona was preparing plates of Dexter’s mince pies and cranberrysausage rolls. ‘I didn’t know if anyone would come to these decoration sessions,’ she said. ‘But it’s busy out there already.’
‘It’s a chance for people to get together on cold winter evenings,’ Fiona replied. ‘And I’m sure with the children—’ she gestured with a mince pie ‘—their parents and grandparents are glad to have somewhere they can come that will exhaust all their pre-Christmas energy.’
‘Birdie’s bringing Lucy in a bit,’ Sophie said. ‘Dexter’s working flat out, and I don’t think we’re the only ones who have commissioned things from him.’
‘Birdie’s really taken a shine to that girl.’
‘And Lucy must be in heaven, with all her witchy books and potions.’
