Page 87 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
So far, she had been a one-woman whirlwind; troubleshooting problems, directing Vea, Birdie and Dexter to their stalls, showing children how to play Rudolph Hoopla and helping them hang their felt Christmas puddings, tiny leather bells and glittering cardboard candy canes on the lower branches of the oak tree.
She got a thrill seeing the villagers enjoying themselves, wandering the craft stalls, eating fish and chips, squealing as they got a foam ball in a hole in the Christmas Tree Carnival Toss. Birdie beamed from behind her gleaming jars of jam and chutney – Sophie had checked there were no little packets of mushrooms – and Vea was selling friendship bracelets and homemade stocking kits, gift sets for embroidery, crochet and jewellery making. Sophie made sure that when anyone complimented the bunting, she referred them to Vea’s stall, while also crediting Harry’s hard work.
And that was the only problem with tonight: Harry was round the back of the hall, in the camping tent grotto, being Mistingham’s Santa Claus. It was an important role, of course, but it meant he wasn’t outside, sneaking sips of mulled wine or challenging Lucy to a game of Rudolph Hoopla. But he was doing a good job, judging by thesquealing and happy grins as families came out of the tent, with prettily wrapped gifts clutched to their chests. And Sophie had heard the compliments, too:
‘Such a stern-looking Santa, but he was so sweet to my Amy.’
‘That deep voice, theho ho hoset something off inside me, I swear!’
‘Did you see his eyes? That is onehotSanta under the curly white beard.’
OK, so most of the compliments had come from mums, but Sophie couldn’t blame them, and Harry would be glad he’d been well received (though probably uncomfortable with being lusted after, so she might not tell himeverythingshe’d overheard). She did think he needed to see the rest of it, though, so when Ermin sidled over to her, a half-eaten baked Alaska in his hand, and said, ‘You and Harry need to do a speech,’ she didn’t recoil at the idea.
‘We’ll have to get Harry to change,’ she said. ‘He can’t come out dressed as Santa and spoil it for the children.’
‘Leave it to me.’ Ermin tapped his nose. ‘Meet us at the stage in ten.’
‘Sure.’ Sophie was confident that Harry would take the reins, and that all she would have to do would be to stand next to him and smile.
True to his word, Ermin appeared a few minutes later with Harry, who was dressed in jeans, a green jumper with gold Christmas trees around the collar, and a black jacket that he needed because the wind was ramping up. The oak tree created its own melody as globe, book and acorn lights jangled in the branches.
‘Hey.’ Sophie rubbed the red line along Harry’s jaw, where the Santa beard elastic had clearly dug in. ‘How are you doing, Sexy Santa?’
‘Please don’t call me that,’ Harry murmured. ‘I’m better now I’m in the fresh air. That tent is on the stifling side.’
‘Out in the winter chill, you mean.’
‘You’d find it refreshing if you’d spent hours in an itchy wig.’
‘The mums loved you,’ Sophie said, deciding a little bit of teasing was OK. ‘I heard them pining. Desperate to know what you’d got in your sack.’
Harry’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Sophie.’
‘They were telling each other how much they wanted you up their chimneys.’
‘Santa goesdownchimneys.’
‘Goingdown?’ Sophie tapped her lips. ‘IthinkI heard one of them say—’
‘Good evening, everyone!’ Ermin’s voice boomed across the green, the mic squealing with feedback.
Visitors turned towards the stage, their chatter and laughter dying down, leaving only the glitzy soundtrack of the Rudolph Hoopla. But it was in the furthest corner from the tree, and Sophie had almost managed to tune it out.
‘Good evening everyone,’ Ermin said again. ‘I trust you’re all having a wonderful evening?’
There were whoops and cheers and someone shouted ‘Baked Alaska!’ followed by lots of tittering. Sophie thought the mulled wine must be flowing well.
‘I’m going to hand you over to the organizers of tonight’s festival, who I think we can all agree have done a marvellous job. This is the first of four nights of fun and festivities, puton seamlessly by our much-loved villagers, Harry Anderly and Sophie Stevens!’ He gestured towards them as the applause got louder.
Much-loved?Harry mouthed with a frown, but Ermin was thrusting a microphone into his hand, pushing him forward on the stage.
‘Hello,’ he said, as a huge gust of wind tinkled the lights above him. ‘Thank you all for coming.’
There were more whoops and cheers.
‘I think Ermin’s said it all, if I’m honest. We have taken over the reins from Winnie, who had done a lot of the groundwork for us.’ He cleared his throat and shot Sophie a glance. She could tell he was nervous, but he sounded – and looked – great, fitting the lord of the manor role perfectly.
‘I also wanted to say,’ he went on, ‘that I owe you all an apology.’ His cheeks reddened, and there was a moment’s pause, when it seemed that the crowd, even the wind, held their collective breath. Then something new kindled in his gaze.
