Page 89 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
‘No?’ Harry asked.
‘It was a generous gift, a story I love, so what else do I need to know? Sometimes, these things find their way to you exactly when you need them. I think it’s best if I leave it at that.’
‘Right,’ Harry said quietly, and when she glanced at him, he was staring at the frying eggs, as if they held within them all the mysteries of the universe.
‘This is a disaster,’ Sophie said loudly, as she and Harry reached the green that evening. Puddles covered the grassy surface, and the bunting was dancing frantically, one end looking perilously close to coming untied.
‘What?!’ Harry shouted, and she turned to him and repeated it. They were soaked already, their waterproof coats shielding them from the worst of it, but nobody would want to play Hook the Duck or eat baked Alaska in this.
‘It might ease off,’ Harry said, as Jason ran to his truck, carrying a box of supplies wrapped in a large plastic bag.
‘See you’ve not wangled the weather in our favour!’ he called over, grinning.
‘We’re trying,’ Harry called back. ‘Leave it with us!’
‘Maybe we should get Birdie to perform a spell,’ Sophie said, staring at the oak tree. ‘Some kind of anti-rain dance.’
‘I’d happily ask her if I thought it would make a difference. I need to check that the waterproof box for the electrics has stayed waterproof.’
Sophie’s stomach clenched. ‘Can’t someone else do that?’
‘What?’ He looked at her, his eyes gleaming beneath his hood.
‘Someone …’ she wanted to saymore expendable, but that would sound beyond callous. ‘Just be careful, OK?’
‘Yes, boss.’ Harry gave her a reassuring smile, then strode over to the outside wall of the village hall, where the electrics for the lights, sound system and Rudolph Hoopla were plugged into a sturdy-looking box. It promised it was waterproof, and Sophie hoped that, even in the face of such a horrible storm, that was a promise it would keep.
An hour later, both the wind and rain had faded, and Harry had posted an update on the Mistingham Facebook group that wellies were the preferred footwear, but that there was more fun to be had at the Festive Oak Fest.
‘It felt strange, writing those words,’ he admitted, as he and Sophie sheltered under the awning of Natasha’s bar with cups of steaming mulled wine.
‘Using the words “more fun to be had”?’ Sophie grinned at him.
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ve had quite a lot of fun with you, recently,’ she pointed out.
‘Let’s not performthaton the stage tonight,’ Harry said, in the low growl that did funny things to her. ‘I’m not sure we’ll be invited to organize any more events if we do.’ His lips were inches from hers.
She swallowed. ‘It would be talked about for a hundred years, at least. But I didn’t just mean that. I meant all of it – buying lights together, late-night paddling, goat rescuing.’
‘You enjoyed the goat rescue?’
‘I enjoyed your shower afterwards. And I enjoyed Felix being safe.’
‘Felix is a menace.’
‘You love him.’
‘For my sins.’
‘You’re the best goat dad.’
‘Goat dad?Sophie Stevens, you are just about—’
‘Just about what?’ She smiled up at him, and he glared at her. He was trying, but mostly failing, to keep a straight face.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and whip up some festive cheer amongst the people who have bothered to turn out tonight.’
