Page 10 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

What about a digital card instead?

Harriet wrinkled her nose. That didn’t sound right, either. She didn’t think digital or e-cards were suitable for children of Darlene’s age.

Maybe a TikTok video?

Ha! Harriet wouldn’t know where to start, but Sara probably would. However, Harriet didn’t feel like suggesting it, although it might be worth it just to see her daughter’s face – Sara would be horrified.

As Harriet walked home, she debated the wisdom of accepting the challenge she’d been set. She hated backing down, but she couldn’t see how it was doable. She had so much going on in her life, where would she find the time to scour second-hand shops for the things she needed?

If she saw Owen again (and let’s face it, it was unlikely), she’d tell him that the challenge was off.

With the decision made, she thought she would feel lighter, but to her surprise, she didn’t.

She felt guilty – because Owen was right. If she was serious about wanting her children to be less wasteful, she had to lead from the front. Ifshewasn’t prepared to buy less stuff, why shouldthey?

Sara would be a hard nut to crack, and Harriet recognised that she might never make any headway with her daughter, but Bobby, being that bit younger, might be more amenable, especially if she turned it into a game.

Harriet opened her front door and stepped into the hall, realising that she had talked herself into a complete about-face and was once again considering giving Owen’s challenge a go.

The deciding factor, however, came when she spotted the brown envelope on the hall floor.

It was a bill, and as usual, it was for far more than she had anticipated.

A knock on the van’s side window nearly gave Owen a heart attack, and he leapt to his feet, his pulse racing.

‘Excuse me – are you in there?’ It was a woman’s voice and it sounded vaguely familiar.

With a sudden surge of excitement, Owen strode to the door and yanked it open, but was disappointed to see Pen from Pen’s Pantry gazing expectantly up at him, and not Harriet.

‘Er… hi,’ he said, wondering what she could possibly want.

‘Sorry to bother you, but I noticed that your van hasn’t moved and I thought you might be having difficulty trying to find somewhere to pitch up. You can’t stay here overnight, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ he agreed. The road encircling the green wouldn’t be the best place to park, especially since someone would invariably tell him that he had to move on. He wondered what she was going to suggest: he’d yet to give the campsite that Harriet had mentioned a call because he had been too busy drafting a blog post – although he didn’t intend to publish it yet. First, he wanted to make sure Harriet was going to at least give it a try. But he had wanted to write it up while the idea was fresh in his mind.

Owen had a feeling she was going to chicken out, though. But even if she did, he had it covered: he would open the challenge up to his followers and ask for volunteers. Then he would pick one and pay them a visit. All would not be lost and he knew his readers would relish the challenge, and a great many of them would go along with it.

Owen wondered why he hadn’t thought of this before; after all, not buying new was second nature to him. Then again, he mused, where was the challenge in that? The selling point of this idea was that it would be a completely new concept for Harriet. He didn’t want someone who was already half doing this. He wanted to write about someone for whom buying second-hand, or resisting the urge to buy in the first place, was a totally alien concept.

Pen was still staring at him, and Owen realised she must have said something and he’d missed it.

‘Sorry, could you repeat that?’ He gave her an apologetic smile.

Pen grinned back. ‘I said, I’ve spoken to the farmer who owns the land up the road. He’s got a field that he doesn’t know what to do with—’ she lowered her voice ‘—he tried to get one of the big supermarket chains to build a store on it, but the villagers were having none of it.’ She took a breath. ‘Anyway, I asked if you could park your van there. There’s no toilet or shower block, but I think it has a cold-water standpipe. For the sheep,’ she added. ‘Although, I believe the water might come directly from a stream on the mountain, so it’s probably Baltic.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Owen said, touched by the woman’s thoughtfulness. ‘If you give me directions, I’ll move this eyesore.’

‘Oh, and I’ve brought you this.’ Pen handed him a paper package. ‘It’s a vegan pasty. I didn’t know if you ate meat or dairy, and I didn’t want to take the chance, so vegan it is! I don’t get much leftover food, but when I do, I hate seeing it go to waste.’

‘That’s so kind, thank you. How much do I owe you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Please let me pay you for it,’ he pleaded, turning away to find his wallet. As he did so, he was conscious of Pen’s curious gaze as she peered around him into the van.

‘I wouldn’t dream of taking your money,’ she argued, her eyes scanning the interior. ‘You’ve got it nice.’

‘I like to think so. It suits my needs.’

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