The Secret Christmas Bookshop (The Secret Bookshop #1)

Chapter Twenty

O n 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?’

‘Nothing untoward has happened since we spoke on the phone.’ He frowned, and she wondered if he’d realized how uptight he’d sounded.

‘Great.’ She grinned. ‘Shall we go in? Annie’s probably waiting.’

Annie greeted them warmly and led them to the back of the arcade, through a set of double doors and into a space with only a couple of small, high windows, and a distinctly musty smell.

She held her arms out wide, gesturing to the three games that took up most of the space. ‘What do you think?’

‘Rudolph Hoopla,’ Harry said, approaching the first one. Three comedic-looking stuffed reindeer heads, with antlers and large red noses, stuck out of the back panel, and there were stacks of coloured rings on a counter at the front. ‘You get different points for the different parts?’

‘More for the noses, because they’re not as easy to hook onto,’ Annie explained. ‘And it has a kooky soundtrack and flashing lights, if you’ve got an external power source.’

‘We have,’ Sophie confirmed.

‘Great! Get a load of this.’ She switched it on, and the game came to life with flashing, multicoloured lights racing around the top, and a dance remix of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’.

‘That is hideous.’ Harry had to shout to be heard.

‘The kids will love it!’ Annie grinned.

‘Oh my God,’ Sophie said. ‘The reindeer move ?’ The heads were dipping down and up, moving from side to side.

‘That’s for added difficulty,’ Annie told her. ‘You can turn it on or off.’

‘I say on.’ Harry folded his arms, wincing as the music changed key.

‘Harry Anderly,’ Sophie said, mock-sternly, ‘do you want to make all the Mistingham children cry? How will you ever shake off the Dark Demon Lord of Mistingham title if you behave like this?’

He shot her an irritated glance.

‘The dark demon what ?’ Annie said.

‘Nothing,’ Harry replied quickly. ‘What’s next?’

Annie switched off the disco reindeer and the room fell into blessed quiet. She showed them the Christmas Tree Carnival Toss, which was a cutout wooden Christmas tree, at least seven feet tall, painted beautifully in dark green with old-fashioned decorations. It had holes cut in it, into which players had to try and throw sponge balls, and no lights or blaring sounds. ‘Thank God,’ Harry said emphatically.

‘This is the last one.’ Annie gestured to a large plastic pond, currently without water, but full of little plastic figures all dressed as festive characters – elves and Santas, robins and snowmen. The surround was painted in red, green and gold glitter paint.

‘It’s Hook the Duck,’ Harry said incredulously.

Sophie felt laughter bubble up inside her.

‘Hook the Christmas Duck,’ Annie corrected.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘That’s an entirely different kettle of fish, then.’

‘Don’t you mean an entirely different pond of mallards?’ Sophie asked.

The look he gave her could have frozen the surface of the sea.

They agreed on a price with Annie for the hire of all three games, and the task of getting them moved to the green, then stepped into the winter sunshine.

‘What’s next?’ Harry asked.

‘I need to go to Vea’s and pick up the supplies I ordered for oak-tree decorating.’ A cloud slipped in front of the sun, and Sophie tucked her chin into her collar.

‘Ah yes, the part where we don’t just decorate the “at risk” tree with fancy lights, we allow the villagers to hang decorations on it.’

Sophie stopped walking. ‘You loved this idea when we talked about it: getting everyone to make a decoration in the village hall in the week leading up to the festival, writing a Christmas wish or something they’re grateful for on it, then putting it on the tree. We’ll have someone there – you or Dexter or Ermin – to do the actual hanging, because children especially won’t be able to reach, but …’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Why have you reverted back to Lord Grump?’

‘Reverted?’ he echoed.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘ Reverted. You were pretty blunt when we first met, then we started working together and I saw a whole other side to you. Then you effectively ghosted me, hoarding all the bunting at the manor, and then we … rescued Felix from the lake.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Today, you’re back to how we were at the beginning of this whole thing. Are you really going to backtrack on all our plans?’

He stared at her, and she could sense he was working out how to respond to her frankness. ‘Soph.’ He sounded cautious. ‘The truth is—’

‘Sophie! Harry!’ She jumped, her attention dragged away when she saw who was standing outside the village hall, two baguettes under his arms and a Santa hat on his head.

‘Dexter,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’m tempted to ask what you’re doing, but I’m not sure I want to know the answer.’

He grinned. ‘I’m making French bread pizzas for Amber’s birthday party – one of Lucy’s best friends. It’s fancy dress, and Lucy said I had to have an outfit even though I’m hired help, but my wardrobe is a bit on the sparse side.’

Sophie winced. ‘Not sure she’s going to be impressed with just a Santa hat.’

‘She can’t expect me to make delicious food and be a source of ridicule.’ Dexter shrugged. ‘I’m hoping her and her friends’ stomachs will win out on this occasion. How are you, Harry?’

‘Great thanks,’ Harry said, sounding anything but. ‘We’re off to Vea’s, to immerse ourselves in Wasabi tape, or whatever it is.’

Sophie nudged him in the ribs. ‘It’s Washi tape, and he loves it really,’ she told Dexter. ‘He’s just practising being the Christmas Grinch for the Oak Fest.’

Dexter laughed. ‘Looks like you’ve got it nailed.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ Sophie said, keeping the smile on her face.

Once Dexter had waved a baguette in goodbye and was out of sight, Harry put his lips close to Sophie’s ear and murmured, ‘I’m going to be Santa at the festival, not the Grinch.’

‘Well, then.’ She ignored the delicious shiver that his breath on her ear had set free, and turned her head towards his, so their lips were inches apart. ‘You’d better buck your ideas up, or you’re going to ruin Father Christmas for everyone, for ever.’

His eyes sparked with more than just anger, but before he could say or do anything else, Sophie took a step back. She could feel him glowering beside her all the way to Vea’s craft shop.

Vea had outdone herself, ordering in a range of felts, leathers and cardboard, shimmering threads and sequins, tiny pearls and beads, glitter snowflakes, gossamer fabrics and watery silks. There were also several rolls of festive Washi tape, which Sophie took pleasure in pointing out to Harry.

He stayed quiet while Vea helped Sophie pack everything up, and while she selected the tools she would need – needles and glues, staplers and leather punches. There were indelible, fine-tipped markers for the messages she wanted everyone to write, glitter pens for festive cheer, cinnamon sticks and dried orange for anyone who wanted to add the scents of the season to their decorations.

‘This is perfect, Vea, thank you.’

‘How did the bunting go?’

‘It’s done,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll bring the sewing machine back in the next couple of days.’

Vea waved him away. ‘You’ve got it until January. Take it to the hall, if you like – as long as there’s someone supervising the children.’

‘Thank you Vea,’ Sophie said, hefting up her bags, ‘for everything.’

Once they were outside, Sophie turned towards home. She had been looking forward to seeing Harry again, anticipation thrumming through her at how it might be between them after their kiss. But instead of it bringing them closer, he’d decided to shut off from her altogether.

‘I’d better take these back to the flat,’ she said.

Harry stopped, motionless, in front of Vea’s window display. There were glittering angels and woolly felt sheep, a wicker manger holding a felt baby Jesus. ‘That’s it?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know what else to say.’ She shrugged, her paper bags crackling with the movement. ‘You’re clearly not up for this right now, and I’m done trying to get blood out of a stone.’

He closed his eyes. ‘Sophie.’

‘What?’ She stood there, waiting for his answer, and when none was forthcoming she turned away. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Wait!’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’ She turned to face him, noticing how his eyes seemed greener in the afternoon light, his skin faintly freckled. He looked unfairly healthy for December, even though there were smudges under his eyes.

‘For being an arsehole,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure how you felt, after last weekend – if you thought it was a mistake, because of … your plans. I didn’t know what to do.’

She laughed lightly, feeling a twinge of guilt, of regret, that he’d been put off because she was leaving. But of course he had: it was self-preservation, something she knew far too much about. ‘So … ask me?’

He gave her a rueful smile. ‘That’s a bit easy, don’t you think?’ He ran a hand through his hair, leaving some of it sticking up. ‘I should have done that, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me.’

Sophie could sympathize. She’d felt unlike herself, giddier, since their kiss. She was contemplating changing her future because of him. ‘I didn’t think it was a mistake,’ she said. ‘Kissing you was …’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.’

‘Right.’ Harry swallowed. ‘Good. Me too.’

Relief flooded, warm and vital, through her body. ‘Great. So … what do you want to do? Do you need to get home?’

He shook his head. ‘I think we should … go and play Whack-A-Crab.’

‘What?’ Sophie laughed.

‘That is exactly what we should do.’ His eyes brightened, and the dour, uptight Harry slipped away, replaced by the version she’d started to get used to. ‘You’ve got a higher score than me, and I can’t let it stand.’

‘OK,’ she said.

‘Then we should go and get fish and chips; have a proper night out at the seaside.’

‘In December?’

‘Mistingham is the perfect seaside village. Have you really taken full advantage of it while you’ve been here?’

‘In the summer, I—’

‘But it’s great all year round. So often, people don’t make the most of living somewhere like this, with the sea and the countryside on their doorstep, old-fashioned arcades, fish and chips a stone’s throw away—’

‘Right below their flat,’ Sophie cut in.

‘Exactly,’ Harry said with a smile. ‘Let’s indulge ourselves. A Batter Days tea and a Whack-A-Crab face-off. Do you really not want to do this with me?’

‘You’ve gone from grumpy to insane in five minutes,’ Sophie said, stalling for time. But the truth was, she was never going to say no. She thought of how Jane Eyre owned her feelings about Rochester: how bold she was in the face of his teasing, his dominance. She always gave as good as she got.

‘I’m seizing the moment,’ Harry said. ‘Not waiting for things to be perfect, but making the most of right now. Someone taught me that recently.’

Sophie rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. ‘Let me drop these bags off at the flat, then we can go.’

‘Deal,’ he said.

‘Deal,’ she echoed, and as the sun sizzled down to the horizon, casting Harry in a golden hue that was far too magical to be real, they held each other’s gaze for a beat too long.