Page 1 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Chapter 1

The madness has started already, Harriet Parry thought, as she pushed her shopping trolley into the supermarket and saw the stacked tubs of Quality Street and Roses chocolates.

For pity’s sake, the kids had only just gone back to school after the summer holidays! The store still had school uniforms and protractor sets on display, and yet there they were, trying to force Christmas down shoppers’ necks.

It wasn’t that Harriet disliked Christmas; it was more a question of dreading it. This would be the second Christmas she would be facing on her own, just her and the children. Last year had been pretty awful, but this year she had the added bonus of knowing what to expect.

Scowling, she marched up and down the aisles, scouring the shelves for buy-one-get-one-free offers and any reduced items. If she was lucky, she might grab a bargain or two and find some meat that had been marked down because the sell-by date was up. Declan’s meanness and inability to pay maintenance on time often meant that meals containing meat were a rare treat. She tried to tell herself that it was better for her family’s health and for the environment to eat a vegetarian diet, but damn and blast, she’d sell her right arm for a roast beef dinner.

With the shopping finally done, she stowed the bags in the boot of her little hatchback and drove home in a cloud of irritation and disgruntlement. She hated doing the monthly shop: not because she disliked grocery shopping as such, but because she was confronted by temptation at every turn, and she could cry when she saw yet another tantalising treat that she couldn’t afford. Still, it was done now, and she could put it out of her mind for another month. In between supermarket visits, she would shop locally in Foxmore, and sometimes she would manage to bag a bargain from the bakery if they had any leftover bread, rolls or cakes that they wanted to get rid of at the end of the day. And when she needed milk or fresh produce, she would pop into the convenience store, although often there wasn’t a great deal that was convenient about it.

As usual, Etta, their three-year-old dachshund, launched herself at Harriet as soon as she opened the door, and Harriet spent a few minutes fussing the dog. Although Etta was supposed to be the kids’ dog, she was Harriet’s fur baby, acquired when Declan had vetoed having another child, arguing that two was more than enough. In hindsight, Harriet realised it had been for the best – because a year later he had walked out on her.

Harriet hadn’t been home more than five minutes, and was still putting the shopping away, when the front door slammed open and her children barrelled through it. She winced, guessing that the dent in the wall from the door handle had probably deepened by another millimetre or two. Yet one more job that needed doing, but wouldn’t get done anytime soon. She tried her best, but DIY had been Declan’s forte. If she ever attempted any repairs, she usually made the situation worse.

Deciding to ignore it (these things added character to a house, didn’t they?), she greeted her hungry children, batting away eager hands as they delved into the bags to see what she’d bought.

‘What’s for tea? I’m starving!’

‘You’re always starving,’ Harriet told her son.

Bobby was nine and growing fast, which meant he was perpetually hungry. She hoped she wouldn’t have to replace his school shoes before Christmas because she hadn’t long bought him a new pair, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. He grew faster than a weed in a flower bed.

Sara presented her with a different set of problems, because her daughter thought she was eighteen, not eleven. She had only started at the comprehensive school three weeks ago, and Harriet could see the child changing before her very eyes. It was terrifying.

Sara grabbed a cheesy snack, unwrapped it and stuffed it in her mouth, chewing vigorously. Bobby’s prize was a reduced yoghurt and he darted off to his room to eat it, leaving his school bag and coat in a heap on the kitchen floor.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Harriet bent to pick them up and popped them on the table. She would go through his bag later. She should really call him down and tell him off, but as she had managed to dodge the what’s-for-tea question, she let it go. Her lentil and bean version of shepherd’s pie wasn’t their favourite, but it was healthy and filling, and they’d eat it or lump it.

‘I’ve got to take five pounds to school tomorrow,’ Sara said, having finished her cheese and eyeing the remaining yoghurts. ‘Ma-a-am,’ she whined, ‘Bobby’s eaten the strawberry one.’

‘So he has.’ Harriet refused to be drawn. If Sara hadn’t gone for the cheese first, she could have had the strawberry yoghurt instead. ‘Five pounds? What for?’ Her heart sank, but she tried not to show it.

‘School trip.’

‘Where and when?’

Sara shrugged. ‘Dunno. It’s to do with STEM.’

‘STEM?’

‘Science, Technology, Engineering and Maths. There’s a letter in my bag that you have to sign.’

‘Oh, right.’ She supposed five pounds wasn’t so bad. She found her purse and counted out some coins. But when she read the letter, her heart sank again. The five pounds was only the deposit. Another eighteen pounds was required a week before the trip took place.

Wordlessly, she signed the permission slip and dropped the coins into an envelope.

‘Oh, and can I have some makeup?’ her daughter asked casually, as she shoved the money into her school bag.

‘No, you’re too young to wear makeup.’

‘Darlene does.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘And everyone else does.’

‘Not listening,’ Harriet said, pouring water into a pan. She knew that was untrue, because Harriet’s friend Kelly didn’t allow Catrin to wear makeup either, and Catrin was in the same class as Sara.

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