The Secret Christmas Bookshop (The Secret Bookshop #1)

Chapter Eight

N orfolk had a reputation for being a flat county, with expanses of farmed fields and heathland, the marshes bleeding into the sea, green turning to gold turning to blue, and the famed big Norfolk sky above. But, along the coast, there were enough hills and dips to make Sophie’s runs challenging, and she relished the head space they gave her.

The day after the village hall meeting and finding Jazz, she got up early and went to the local pharmacist, who confirmed her wrist was sprained and expertly bandaged it for her. Then she decided that the best way to work out the tension of the last few days was to go for a long run.

It was a cold but bright day, the blue sky peppered with white clouds, and Sophie took her usual route, running down to the promenade, keeping the deep, entrancing blue of the sea on her right, dodging dog walkers with shoulders hunched against the cold, their scarves flying out behind them. She’d left Clifton at home, wanting to pound her legs and run her lungs ragged.

Even in winter, Mistingham was beautiful, and as Sophie headed inland she found herself smiling at the dinky cottages and elegant town houses, some adorned with Christmas wreaths already, others with trailing winter jasmines or cyclamen in pots, small stone sculptures decorating front gardens. It was a place where people took pride in their homes, where they felt privileged to live. There were some properties with unlit windows and little personalization, a couple of streets that were mostly second homes, but Sophie tended to avoid those.

She was turning onto Perpendicular Street, wondering how many people she’d have to dodge along the edge of the green, when someone appeared right in front of her. She veered away at the last minute, the soft sludge of the damp, grass-covered mud helping to slow her pace.

‘Yikes!’ A hand grabbed her arm and she was steadied just before she fell.

Sophie tried to catch her breath. ‘May,’ she puffed out. ‘H-hello. I’m so sorry – and thank you – that was a quick reaction.’

‘Are you OK?’ May asked, as Sophie bent over, putting her good hand on her knee.

‘I’m fine. I must have been going faster than I thought.’

‘Certainly faster than I could manage,’ May said. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘Sweating,’ Sophie said. ‘Panting. Thinking about a long, hot shower.’ Her cheeks felt raw, windburned, in contrast to the rest of her overheated body.

‘What are you doing in two hours?’

‘I have the day off,’ she said, glancing at her watch. She didn’t add that she was trying to work up the courage to speak to Harry, to follow up on her dismissive I’ll be in touch the day before. If they didn’t get together soon, then the Christmas festival would be a paltry singsong comprised of two people – and possibly Harry’s goat – along with some fish and chips from Batter Days.

‘Do you want to grab a coffee in the hotel?’ May asked. ‘We could have one of their famous cakes.’

Sophie only thought for a second. ‘That sounds great. And two hours should give me long enough to make myself presentable.’

‘Wonderful.’ May’s smile was warm. ‘The perks of working for yourself.’

‘I thought you worked for the entire village,’ Sophie said. ‘Aren’t you on call twenty-four-seven, sorting out everyone’s technical problems?’

‘It does feel like that sometimes,’ May admitted with a laugh. ‘Catch you in a bit.’

Sophie nodded, then willed herself to find a final burst of energy and headed for home at a slow jog.

Mistingham Hotel’s lounge managed to be both comfortingly traditional and modern enough to feel classy, the floral patterns of the curtains and cushion covers delicate rather than gaudy, a soft, pistachio-green carpet, and elegant crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. Its wide windows looked out on the village green, the oak tree and, beyond, thin slivers of the sea in the gaps between buildings.

When Sophie arrived, May was already at a round table in the window. It was covered with a cream cloth, and a bud vase with a pink rose sat in the centre. The room smelt faintly of sugar, making Sophie’s stomach rumble as she made her way over, taking the seat opposite the other woman.

‘Hello.’

‘You made it!’ May was wearing an indigo jumper, the sleeves falling over her hands, and her straight dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her features were a lot more delicate than Sophie’s, almost elfin. If she didn’t already know, Sophie would never in a million years have guessed she was a tech wizard, with a brief spell in Silicon Valley behind her.

‘I don’t know what you fancy.’ May pointed to the menu printed on thick, cream card. ‘But I’d like one of everything, and I haven’t been on a run.’

‘I’m going for the chocolate eclair,’ Sophie said, after a brief glance at the menu.

May laughed. ‘That was quick.’

‘I’ve seen people eating them, from outside.’

‘But you haven’t had one before?’

‘Not yet,’ Sophie said, which felt silly because she’d been here for nearly a year. ‘I just haven’t got around to it.’

A young man in a white shirt and black pressed trousers took their order, then disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived. Sophie had imagined the lounge would be full of pensioners meeting up for crosswords and gossip, but the customers were a lot more varied than she’d expected. Some were clearly retired, but others looked like they were here on a winter break or conducting low-key business meetings.

‘It’s lovely here,’ she said.

‘It’s a good place to escape to, when you want to get away from your desk,’ May said, ‘or your shop counter. I imagine it’s fun, working with Fiona.’

‘Oh it is,’ Sophie said. ‘She’s generous, easy to talk to, and she knows everything that goes on in Mistingham.’

‘She’s formidable, too,’ May added. ‘You know who wears the trousers between her and Ermin.’

Sophie laughed. ‘She can seem strict, but mostly she’s a softie. Did you hear about Jazz?’ She assumed Harry would have told her when he got home last night.

‘The poor girl who was sleeping in The Book Ends?’

‘Fiona and I thought she was the ghost – except she’d broken the lock to get in.’

‘It’s awful how some people end up like that.’ May’s cautious tone told Sophie that, even though they had only talked occasionally, she knew about her background. Sophie had never particularly hidden the fact that she had grown up in foster care, and she wasn’t surprised it had made its way around the village. ‘But Fiona’s taken her in?’

‘She did last night,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t know what the plan is now, whether Jazz will want to move on, or stay here for a while. I don’t suppose it’s brimming with job opportunities, if that’s what she’s after, but some places might need seasonal staff.’

‘Maybe Mary and Winnie could do with some help,’ May suggested. ‘I’m sure, if that was what she wanted to do, then Fiona could put in a good word.’ She grinned. ‘Was she behind your decision to volunteer for the festival?’

Sophie groaned. ‘No. That was all my own stupidity.’

‘Stupidity?’

‘I didn’t …’ She stopped. Did she want to tell May about the book? It had been an anonymous gift, and Sophie had decided she needed to be cautious if she wanted to unearth the culprit. After all, they must have stayed hidden for a reason. ‘I wanted to contribute something,’ she settled on. ‘I thought there would be a team of us, but instead …’

‘Instead it’s just you and Harry,’ May finished. Her eyes were twinkling.

‘You think that’s amusing?’ Sophie wondered if May had been teasing him about his predicament.

‘You’re not looking forward to it?’ May parried.

Sophie was glad when the young man brought their lattes and cakes over on a silver tray. Her chocolate eclair was huge, with cream bursting out between the chocolate-covered layers, and May’s doughnut – which Sophie had thought might be a conservative choice – had sticky pink jam oozing out of it, and sherbet hearts stuck on its pale pink icing.

‘Wow,’ she murmured, the conversation momentarily forgotten while they tucked into their cakes, exchanging wide-eyed looks of delight.

‘Great, huh?’ May said.

‘ So good.’ Sophie felt a pang of regret that she’d waited this long to try one.

‘So. You and Harry,’ May prompted. ‘You don’t seem thrilled about working with him.’

Sophie took a few beats to reply. She didn’t want to be rude about May’s boyfriend, even though she was obviously under no illusions about how hostile he could seem – if he was to be believed, it was May who’d given him the ‘Dark Demon Lord of Mistingham’ title. ‘We don’t know each other very well,’ she said cautiously. ‘And it isn’t going to be easy, planning an entire street festival between us.’

‘I wish he’d relax about the oak tree,’ May said with an eye-roll. ‘I get that he’s protective of his family’s land, but that tree has been there for hundreds of years and hasn’t shown any signs of falling down.’

‘It used to be the focal point of the festival?’

‘Of all events in the village,’ May confirmed. ‘But by saying the oak is out of bounds, he’s effectively making the entire green a no-go area, which is ridiculous. I’ve given up trying to make him listen to me, though.’ She took a large bite of her doughnut.

‘Sometimes you need a fresh voice,’ Sophie said with a shrug.

‘Exactly! I think there are a whole lot of people holding out hope that you’ll be able to talk him round.’

Sophie’s eclair was momentarily forgotten. ‘I thought I was planning the festival with him.’

‘You are. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Ermin is also hoping you’ll get Harry to back down, so it can go back to its original location.’

‘But why me?’ Sophie tried to keep the panic out of her voice. ‘ It would make much more sense for you to talk him round.’

‘I told you,’ May said with a laugh, ‘he stopped listening to me ages ago.’

‘He didn’t seem that approachable after the meeting.’ But even as she said it, she felt a stab of guilt, because he might still have been a little bit chilly, but he’d seemed genuinely concerned about her wrist, and he’d reminded her they needed to get together to start work on the festival.

‘He was brooding,’ May said. ‘Which, to be fair, is one of his favourite states. But he’s really lovely when he lets his guard down.’

‘How long have you known him?’ Sophie asked.

‘Oh, decades now,’ May said. ‘We both grew up here, and even though he’s a few years older than me, my brother Avery hung around with him a lot, and I ended up being the annoying little sister hanger-on. But when we were older we became friends in our own right, and stayed in touch when I was in the US and he was in London. We both gravitated back here at roughly the same time, and it was so generous of him to let me move into the manor house when I got back.’

Generous? Sophie frowned. That didn’t sound like something you’d say if you were together. Maybe they’d only become a couple fairly recently. ‘Are your parents still in the village?’ She couldn’t remember May mentioning them before.

‘They moved to Cornwall about eight years ago, replacing one beautiful, hard-to-get-to part of the country with another.’

Sophie tried not to react at the mention of Cornwall. ‘What about your brother?’

‘He lives in Norwich, so he’s not too far away, and he’s a builder, so he gets around a lot of the county, depending on where the work is.’

‘It’s good that he’s close by.’

‘What about you?’ May took another bite of her doughnut. ‘I remember you mentioning that you moved around a bit.’

Sophie nodded. ‘That’s right. Staying with different foster families.’

‘You weren’t ever adopted? I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Not at all.’ Sophie had made it a rule to never be ashamed of her history. It hadn’t always been great, but there were plenty of children who had suffered a lot more than her, and it hadn’t been her – or any of their – faults. ‘I was going to be adopted when I was three, but the whole thing fell through before it could happen. I didn’t know about it until I was older, and by then I’d got used to not staying anywhere for very long.’ Just like Jazz , she thought. ‘Before moving here I was in Canterbury, and it was Bristol before that.’

‘What made you come to Mistingham?’

The truth was, she’d heard someone on a train talking about their magical family holiday at the Norfolk seaside. She had been living in Canterbury for a year at that point, and she didn’t feel settled there. She’d loved the thought of going somewhere a little more remote where she could enjoy the contrasts – the emptiness in the wintertime, the buzz of tourists during spring and summer.

Many people wouldn’t understand why someone would uproot their life on such a whim, but she thought May might. ‘I heard someone saying how wonderful it was,’ she admitted. ‘I’d had a day out at the seaside in Kent, and I was on the train home, listening in to the conversations around me – as you do.’

‘Of course.’ May grinned.

‘I was selling my notebooks at fairs and markets, and didn’t have anything particularly tying me to Canterbury. So I just decided – Mistingham would be where I’d head next.’

‘And now you’re here, you’ve fallen in love and never want to leave.’ May said it so easily, and Sophie felt a slow shame creep over her, even though she didn’t know what she had to be ashamed of.

‘It’s a beautiful place,’ she said blandly. And then, wanting to change the subject, added, ‘Harry told me how you tricked him into naming his dogs Darkness and Terror. They’re such ridiculous names.’

‘He admitted it?’ May squeezed her doughnut so hard that jam squirted onto her plate.

‘Yep. Well, I had to drag it out of him – it wasn’t something he offered up with relish. It makes me a bit worried about us working together,’ she admitted, half to herself.

‘It’ll be good for him,’ May said indulgently, and Sophie wondered how much softer he was with her.

‘What will be? Having to interact with other villagers, or working with me?’

May sipped her latte. ‘Both. He came back here for a reason.’

‘What was it?’

May shrugged. ‘It’s probably best if I let him tell you that. It’s one thing to encourage him to attend village meetings, another to give away all his secrets.’

‘Secrets?’

‘To Harry, everything is his business and nobody else’s, which is why I was surprised he told you about the dogs. He plays on his isolation. He doesn’t have any family left here – his sister, Daisy, moved away when she was eighteen and, according to him, is intent on never coming back. He doesn’t do anything to discourage the rumours about him, he isn’t prepared to meet Ermin halfway about the oak tree. He could change everyone’s opinions about him so easily, but he says it’s about the principle.’

‘So what’s my play?’ Sophie asked her. ‘I told him I’d be in touch, but do you think I should turn up at the manor? Ask you very nicely for his number, or give you mine to pass on to him? Or should I start planning things without him and see how long it takes him to get mad?’

May laughed. ‘If you pick that option, you might end up doing the whole thing on your own. Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll get him to call you. Also, this way we can stay in touch and meet up for coffee and cake again, or a drink in the Blossom Bough?’

‘That would be great.’ May was good fun, and Sophie wondered why they hadn’t done this before. They’d got on well, chatting easily if they both happened to be in the pub, and whenever they bumped into each other, but they had never purposefully got together until now. She suspected that May might want to keep an eye on her now she was going to be spending a lot of time with her boyfriend, but she certainly wasn’t coming across as possessive.

Sophie couldn’t change her outlook now, though. In a couple of months, she would be gone. She would plan the Christmas festival, with or without Harry’s help, and she would find out who had sent her the beautiful copy of Jane Eyre . Perhaps she would spend more time with May, too, but then she would pack up her things and start the next chapter. It was how she protected herself, and it had worked so far: there was no reason things needed to be different this time around.