The Secret Christmas Bookshop (The Secret Bookshop #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

S ophie was woken by her alarm blaring into the darkness, and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. It was Christmas Day, and she was still in Mistingham. She lay on her back, listening to Clifton stirring in his bed under the window, and rubbed a hand over her chest. She thought about what she was doing today, what she had to do today. It felt bigger, more monumental, than any decision she could remember making in the past.

She made herself a cup of coffee with only the oven light to guide her. The kettle wasn’t hers, but the mug was, the grooves of the handmade ceramic fitting her fingers perfectly as she wrapped them around it. At this time of day, just before the winter dawn, she could see the little fireflies of fishing boats out on the inky water, and she wondered what kind of Christmas they would be having when they returned: taking their fresh catches to their families; local pubs and restaurants waiting for hauls, fish starters for their Christmas Day menus.

Would any service stations be open today, offering turkey sandwiches in spongy white bread, the furthest thing possible from Dexter’s roast chicken doorstops? She let herself have a few more minutes of stillness, before she dragged herself into action mode, getting showered and dressed in her comfiest jeans and a green knitted jumper.

She put on her coat, hat and scarf, then dressed Clifton in the tartan jacket she’d bought him last winter but hadn’t been brave enough to use before now. When she stepped outside, it was so cold that her first inhale was almost painful, and as the sun started to rise, intent on banishing the darkness, she could see wisps of pale pinkish clouds above. She felt the solid weight and sharp corners of Jane Eyre tucked against her chest, and tightened her arm around it.

‘You need your jacket today,’ she said to Clifton. He barked up at her, excited by this walk, so early in the morning.

Sophie set off, her feet crunching through the quiet village streets, all the Christmas lights twinkling and dancing, giddily announcing that the day was finally here, even though the shops and arcade, the chippy and ice-cream parlour, would remain firmly locked up today.

Seagulls wheeled above her, cawing plaintively as she took the familiar alley that passed through two buildings, then walked past the row of town houses, past old Mr Carsdale’s, still in darkness and with the curtains drawn. The cold air expanded her lungs, and the sunrise over the sea mocked the LED bulbs with all their fancy colours. The sun was an orb of amber fire, the silver-blue water lit with a pathway of gold that reached the sandy shore, shimmering pearlescent in the dawn light.

‘Look at that,’ Sophie whispered, tears in her eyes as she stopped on the cliff path, facing the water. She picked Clifton up and hugged him tightly, shifting the book so she could keep hold of them both. ‘Just look at it.’ She wondered, fleetingly, if she could stay there forever.

She pulled her gaze away from the rising sun and put Clifton down, determined to reach the highest point of the path, her boots easily finding the right divots to step in, because she’d walked and run this route so many times over the last year. She strode forwards with her little dog at her side, and when she had the lookout in her sights, she saw something else, too: a figure coming towards her. Her breath caught and she stumbled, and she saw his steps falter, too. And then everything was pounding, her feet on the path and her heart in her chest, her pulse racing as if it was desperate to catch up to him.

As they got closer, she drank him in. How tall he was, his shoulders wide in the familiar black jacket, the side of his face kissed by the sun, hair tousled by the breeze. His long legs in dark jeans, his brown, sturdy boots. She tried to picture which soft jumper was under his coat, which one he would have picked for Christmas Day, and swallowed.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she said, when they were a couple of feet apart.

‘Merry Christmas.’ Harry sounded stunned, incredulous. ‘You’re … here.’

She nodded. ‘It’s a beautiful sunrise.’

He glanced at it, then turned back to her. ‘Are you walking Clifton before you set off?’ He gestured to Jane Eyre . ‘May said you were going to give that back, but honestly, Sophie – keep it.’

Sophie took a long, slow breath. This was the hardest thing for her. She summoned all her courage. ‘No, I … That’s not what I was doing.’

‘I was coming to see you.’ He took a step towards her. ‘I thought you’d gone already, but I messaged Dexter this morning and he said he’d seen you last night; that you weren’t leaving until today. I didn’t dare to hope. Everything was such a rush yesterday, because—’

‘Santa and his goat elf are kept pretty busy on Christmas Eve?’ She realized her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

‘You were there?’

‘I saw you,’ she admitted. Clifton put his paws on Harry’s shins, and Sophie felt her panic fade just a little. ‘I was coming to see you, too.’

Harry paused, then lifted her dog up, cradling him against his chest. ‘This isn’t a last walk before you leave for Cornwall?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve … done a lot of thinking. Talked to a few people. I realize that I … I’m not very good at this.’

‘At what?’ Harry asked quietly.

‘At … being . Staying. At trusting.’

‘I know that,’ he said carefully. ‘And I should have told you, as soon as I knew May was behind the book. It felt like laying myself on the line, admitting how long I’d liked you for, how miserably I’d failed at being a normal, communicative human. I was scared, I think.’ He put Clifton down and held out his hand. Sophie took it. ‘I didn’t expect you to come into my life, but you did. And now you’re here, and I know you don’t think you can stay, but … I love you.’ His gaze softened. ‘I love you, and I’m not saying it as emotional blackmail, but because it’s the truth. I didn’t think I’d get this chance, but you’re still here so I have to say it. I love you, Sophie Stevens. At least you know, now, before you go. You are loved. Completely. By me.’

Sophie felt the burn of tears in her eyes and nose. She squeezed Harry’s hand and tried to remember how to breathe. ‘I love you, too,’ she said. ‘I think that’s what frightened me the most. It’s why I overreacted, why part of me wanted to run – because it’s easier; there’s less to lose. But I saw you at the festival last night, and heard you talking to Fiona. I realized then that, if I went, then I’d lost anyway, because my feelings are already here, and I’m pretty sure they’re not going anywhere. I’m so sorry, Harry.’

His fingers tightened around hers. ‘ If you went? You mean … you feel the same, and you …? Soph, what’s happening?’ He rubbed his face with his free hand.

For the first time, happiness sneaked in, diluting Sophie’s anxiety. She had thought he would dismiss her, tell her that it was too late – that he’d already put her out of his thoughts, begun to move on. But this moment felt like hope, with the sun rising and the air fresh and clear, Christmas Day starting in houses everywhere – quiet and content or large and messy; everything in between.

‘You want me to stay?’ she asked.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Harry said, ‘More than anything.’

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ward off the tears, but it only made things worse. ‘I’m staying,’ she said. ‘I decided last night, but after everything I said to you, I didn’t know if you still—’

‘I do still,’ he said urgently, his hands coming to her waist. ‘I do. You’re staying? Seriously? And not just for another week, or a little while, or—’

‘I want to stay here permanently,’ she said. ‘I want to be with you, Harry.’

He looked down at her, and she felt a soft puff of warm air on her cheeks as he exhaled. ‘I want to be with you,’ he said. ‘I’ve never wanted anyone in my life the way I want you.’ He brought his hand to her face, his thumb icy-cold as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

‘Not even Felix?’ she asked.

His mouth kicked up into a smile. ‘I like having him around, but no. I don’t want to hold hooves with him as we walk along this path, and I don’t want to go to the Blossom Bough with him in the evenings. I can’t imagine watching him open a successful stationery shop in the village, and I definitely don’t want him under the duvet with me every night.’

Sophie grinned. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Also, I’m fairly sure I don’t have to plan for a lake swim or rescue mission with you in my near future.’

‘Not right now, no,’ she assured him. ‘But have you ever gone skinny-dipping in the lake in summer, when there isn’t a risk of hypothermia?’

Harry tipped his face towards hers. ‘Do I have to remind you of the mud? The weeds? The sea is much better for skinny-dipping.’

She sucked in a gasp. ‘The sea ? Harry, have you—’

‘Just down here,’ he gestured with his head, ‘where hardly anyone goes. It’s so difficult getting down that path, and—’

‘It’s not that difficult,’ Sophie said, laughter bubbling up inside her. ‘Loads of hikers and walkers go on that part of the beach.’

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Tell me you’re joking. Nobody used that part of the beach when I was growing up. Ever. The path to get onto it is so steep.’

‘There’s another, easier cut-through. Haven’t you found it?’ She pressed her hand against his chest. ‘Now I can see where some of the rumours about you originate. The Beast, for example?’

‘Sophie,’ Harry said solemnly.

‘Can I tell everyone?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m just starting to be accepted again.’

‘Secret skinny-dipping isn’t going to change that: you’ll just end up with a bigger audience.’

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. ‘Have I told you, Sophie, how glad I am that you’re staying here?’

‘No,’ she said, her smile fading. ‘But if it’s anywhere near as glad as I am that I decided to stay, and that you hadn’t given up on me, then I’m guessing it’s pretty glad.’

‘Monumentally glad,’ Harry murmured. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

‘I’m right in front of you,’ Sophie whispered, and then he was kissing her, his arms wrapped tightly around her, bringing them as close as possible while the sun rose higher in the sky, and a thick bank of peach-hued clouds chased it down. She slid her hands around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the last slivers of uncertainty melt away. His kiss claimed her, rewarded her, told her he was confident that she was here for good, and that they belonged together.

He pulled back, glancing in the direction of the manor. ‘We should go. I promised May I’d make pancakes for breakfast.’

Sophie’s breath hitched, her heart pounding for an entirely new reason. ‘Bacon and maple syrup?’

‘You can have whatever toppings you want. Are you staying all day?’ He lifted Clifton over the fence, settling him gently on the other side, then held his hand out for Sophie. She passed him Jane Eyre , then put her hand in his.

‘I would love to stay, if you’ll have me.’

His eyes were soft, his smile gentle when he said, ‘Always.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, you can use this as leverage.’ He put his boot on the bottom line of wire, and Sophie put her foot on his, then hesitated.

‘How’s your shoulder?’ she asked.

‘Better. I promise.’

‘OK.’ She used his weight to spring herself up and over. ‘How will you get over?’

‘Like I did on the way here,’ he said. ‘Very carefully.’ He grinned, then gingerly stepped over the fence, the barbed wire catching on the inside of his denim-clad thighs. With her gloved hands, Sophie prised him off.

‘Why didn’t you come through the village to my flat?’ she asked, taking his hand again as they started walking.

Harry huffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t want to wake the dogs or Felix, and they were asleep in the hall because it was so cold I left the fire going last night. I came out of the side door and then, well, I was on the right side of the estate, and the sun was rising, and it looked so peaceful, so I thought I’d go along the cliff path. You were coming to see me too?’

Sophie nodded. ‘I wanted to come this way. It made me think of that day we met on the path, and that gave me a bit of confidence that you wouldn’t turn me away.’

He tightened his grip on her fingers. ‘I wouldn’t have. Not ever. What made you change your mind? You said you spoke to some people.’

Sophie laughed. ‘I did. I spoke to Fiona, who didn’t hold back; May, who apologized and told me why she’d done it. Jazz, who gave me both barrels.’

‘Three strong women, changing the mind of a fourth.’

‘No.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘They had things to say to me – things that made a whole lot of sense – but you were the one who changed my mind.’

‘Me?’

Sophie’s throat tightened, and she had to clear it so she could continue. ‘I realized that I loved you, I trusted you. I didn’t want to live my life without you.’

Harry stopped, bringing her to a halt, too. ‘This is real, isn’t it?’ His laugh was low and rumbly and perfect. ‘It’s like something out of a book.’

She smiled up at him, happiness flooding through her. ‘I want a book-worthy kiss then, please.’

‘Happy to oblige.’ He lifted her off her feet with his good arm, spinning her around and then, when she’d stopped squealing, he kissed her, holding her tightly against him. Sophie wrapped her legs around his waist, held onto him and kissed him back as if her life depended on it.

When they pulled apart and her feet were back on the ground, Sophie realized they had an audience, standing on the front steps of the manor. May was in her pyjamas and dressing gown, Fiona and Jazz next to her, and Ermin was waving a ribboned bottle of champagne in the air. Dexter had his arms folded and a grin on his face, and Lucy was jumping up and down, Birdie standing alongside her wearing a long, purple cloak that did nothing to dispel the rumour that she might actually be a witch. They were all cheering and whooping, and Sophie resisted the urge to bow.

‘What is this?’ she asked.

Harry shrugged. ‘I thought I’d invite a few people round for Christmas. We have enough room, enough food. I’ve realized, over the last couple of months, that this is a good village full of great people, and I wanted them in my life again – if they’d have me. It turns out they did, and now – though I hadn’t dared to hope – I’ve also got the holly on top of the pudding, the angel on top of the tree.’

Sophie waved at her friends. ‘I’d rather be a star on top of the tree.’

‘Angel a bit too pious?’

‘A bit,’ Sophie agreed, ‘especially considering all the ways I’m planning on celebrating our reunion.’

‘Give me half an hour,’ Harry rushed out. ‘I’ll send everyone back to their own homes. Fuck being community-minded on Christmas Day.’

Sophie laughed and leaned into him. ‘It’ll be worth the wait.’

‘God.’ Harry exhaled a harsh breath. ‘Today is going to be torture, isn’t it?’

‘Uncle Harry!’ Lucy squealed. ‘Aunty Sophie! Come and see what Santa bought me. It’s my favourite Romantasy trilogy – the special editions! Dad says I can read you all the first chapter before champagne.’

‘I said we’d ask everyone what they thought,’ Dexter corrected. ‘I didn’t say it was a done deal.’

‘But they’d love it,’ Lucy protested. ‘That wasn’t just a friendly kiss, was it, with Harry and Sophie? It was a romantic kiss, and these books are full of romance.’

Dexter’s eyes went wide. ‘They are YA though, right? You told me they were YA.’

Lucy shrugged and looked away.

Fiona chortled. ‘Should have checked the small print.’

‘Where do you find small print on a book ?’ Dexter ran an anxious hand through his hair.

‘I’ll skim through them,’ Jazz said. ‘Tell you how bad the sex scenes are.’

Dexter groaned, and Ermin patted his shoulder. ‘Looks like I should open this bottle right about now.’

‘It’s not even nine o’clock in the morning,’ Fiona chided, but without much heat.

Sophie felt a rush of giddiness, of rightness , so intense it almost knocked her backwards. She caught May’s eye and saw the same emotion reflected back at her. They swapped smiles, and Sophie mouthed, ‘Thank you.’ She would say it properly later, along with an apology for how she’d reacted over her gift: the gift that, if she was honest, had changed everything.

‘Sophie,’ Fiona said, ‘good to see you.’

‘It’s good to see you too. I have a whole lot to say to you, to apologize for.’

Fiona waved a dismissive hand. ‘Not now. All that matters is that you’re here, and it’s Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas!’ Jazz shouted, flinging her arms to the sky, and a few rooks lifted out of the nearest tree, cawing as they flew off.

‘Happy Christmas,’ Sophie said, and was about to hug Fiona, when she felt a tug on her jeans. It was Felix, nibbling the denim, wearing a blue and red knitted jumper with silver Christmas trees all over it.

‘Felix,’ Harry said wearily, ‘please at least wait until after the turkey before you start eating everyone’s clothes.’

‘Yes,’ Lucy added. ‘It’s not very nice to chew your guests’ trousers.’ She wagged her finger at the goat, who remained oblivious, nibbling away contentedly. Sophie didn’t have the heart to extract him.

Harry put his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and pulled her against him. ‘Sophie’s not a guest,’ he said, and it might have been her imagination, but she thought his eyes were a little too bright, his voice rough in a way it wasn’t usually. He gave her a slow, gentle smile that warmed her to her core and added, ‘she’s family.’