Page 100 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

There was a definite buzz in the air, a sense of excitement and anticipation, and despite her glum mood, Harriet found herself becoming swept up in it. As the field gradually filled up and punters started arriving, she also felt a sense of achievement.

‘You should be right proud of yourself,’ Mrs Moxley said, as she came to stand by Harriet while she was looking at a stall set up by Mrs Moxley’s granddaughter, Rachel.

‘I am,’ she said, ‘but this isn’t just down to me. Kelly did an awful lot of the work.’ Harriet picked up a box containing a toy train. It was in pristine condition and if Bobby had been a few years younger she might have bought it for him, but it was more suited to a toddler than a nine-year-old. She had better hurry if she wanted to have a look around and snap up any bargains before her two appeared on the scene.

‘I think it’s also down to Owen,’ Mrs Moxley said. ‘He left a bit sharpish, didn’t he? I heard you had a bust-up.’

Harriet put the toy train back on the table and picked up a tiny Babygro.

Mrs Moxley’s eyes bulged. ‘Blimmin’ heck! You’re not pregnant, are you? Is that why he buggered off?’

‘No, I’m not pregnant. I keep forgetting how small they are when they’re first born, that’s all.’ She hastily put the Babygro down.

‘This is marvellous,’ Bernie Williams said. ‘I’ve bought loads already.’ The pensioner held up a carrier bag. ‘Can’t stop,’ he added, his eyes lighting up when he saw the stall next door and he dashed off, using his walking stick to nudge people out of the way.

‘Someone’s happy,’ Mrs Moxley observed. She gave Harriet a keen glance. ‘And someone else isn’t.’

‘I’d better be off, too,’ Harriet said. ‘I’ve still got a few more things to get.’ If one more person asked her about Owen, she thought she might scream.

‘Mammy, Mammy!’ Harriet turned around at the sound of her youngest child’s voice, and she smiled and held her arms open.

Bobby ran to her full tilt, nearly knocking her over. ‘Can I have a hot dog? And some roast chestnuts?’

Harriet said to her mam and dad, who were following along a little more sedately, ‘He did have breakfast, honest.’

‘He’s got hollow legs, that one,’ Ginny said. Sara was hanging behind, and Harriet peered around her mam to ask, ‘Are you OK, Sara? Would you like a hot dog?’ Harriet was sure she could stretch to a couple. After all, Foxmore didn’t have a Fayre like this every day of the week.

Sara was concentrating on something behind Harriet, and Harriet turned to see a man on stilts, juggling.You didn’t get to see one of those every day of the week, either, she thought. This really was becoming rather festive: one of the stalls had Christmas tunes playing, which added to the atmosphere, and another was selling Christmas trees and green garlands, the scent of pine sharp and aromatic.

Harriet turned back to her daughter. ‘Sara? Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted a hot dog.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Her face was closed and pinched, and she looked worried. Her gaze was still fixed on a point behind Harriet, so Harriet looked again.

Oh dear, that was why, she realised, when she saw who Sara was staring at.

Darlene and her mother, Amanda, were heading their way, and Harriet pursed her lips. This was the last thing she needed, today of all days. She guessed Mrs Cooke hadn’t yet had a chance to speak to either her staff or any of the children in Sara’s class, so—

And there was Mrs Cooke herself, following a few paces behind Sara’s nemesis.

Harriet straightened up and squared her shoulders, preparing to do battle. If that child so much as opened her mouth, Harriet would tell her what for. There was no way she was going to stand by while that horrible little girl intimidated her daughter. And the mother was no better. Fancy allowing her child to make fun of another right in front of her nose. Harriet would put her straight, as well.

She caught hold of Sara’s hand. ‘Leave this to me,’ she hissed. ‘If this isn’t sorted out, I’m taking you out of that school.’

‘I don’t want to go to another school,’ Sara muttered forlornly. ‘All my friends are in this one.’

‘You’re right. If anyone should be going to another school, it should be Darlene. Shh, here they come.’

‘Sara’s mum, isn’t it?’ Amanda asked. ‘I was hoping to see you. When Mrs Cooke phoned to tell me that your daughter had hit mine, I was appalled.’

‘Just you hang on a minute,’ Harriet snapped. ‘I don’t approve of what she did, and I certainly didn’t encourage it, but she did have her reasons.’

‘And what might they be?’ Darlene’s mother tilted her head to one side and looked at Harriet expectantly.

‘You do know that Darlene has been bullying Sara, and quite a few of the other children? Physical violence might be unacceptable, but emotional abuse shouldn’t be tolerated, either.’

‘I totally agree.’

‘Pardon?’ Harriet must have misheard.

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