Page 23 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Sorry,’ Sara mumbled, contrite for all of a split-second. ‘And we’re having high tea.’ She paused. ‘What’s high tea?’

‘It’s a posh term for sandwiches and cakes,’ Harriet said, wondering how she was going to top that when it came to Sara’s birthday party. Annoyed, she told herself not to think about it yet: she had Christmas to survive first.

She also had another problem – how on earth was she going to tell her daughter that she wouldn’t be having a new outfit to wear to this over-the-top kids’ birthday party?

Chapter 6

‘You’re going to have to buy Sara something without her knowing where you got it from,’ Pen advised the following morning, after Harriet told her about her dilemma. ‘For Pete’s sake, mun! Deri Castle for a blimmin’ kiddies’ party? The mother must have more money than sense. She could have done the same thing at home for a fraction of the cost.’

‘I know,’ Harriet groaned. ‘Talk about raising the bar.’ She had to smile at Pen, though: her boss was quite indignant on Harriet’s behalf.

Pen carried on, ‘Mark my words, you don’t want to get into a competition with her. You’ll never win. I don’t know the woman, but she sounds like a right two-sheds to me.’

‘Two-sheds?’ She’d never heard that expression before.

‘Aye, you know the sort – you say you’ve got a shed in your garden, and they’ll tell you they’ve got two, both of ’em bigger and better than yours! Whatever you do, she’ll go one better – with knobs on.’

‘You’re right,’ Harriet agreed. But knowing Pen was right didn’t change the situation or solve her immediate problem of what Sara was going to wear to the party. ‘And to top it all off, parents are also invited to stay for the duration,’ she added. ‘Apparently, according to Sara, Darlene’s mam doesn’t think it fair for parents to drive all that way just to drop their kids off, only to have to go back again after a couple of hours. I’ll have to take a flask of coffee and sit in my car – I doubt if I can afford as much as a glass of water in a place like that.’

She wiped down a table and checked that no one needed serving. The cafe was fairly quiet for once, although it would soon pick up again: it was never quiet for long.

Pen sniffed. ‘I bet you there’ll be refreshments laid on, even if it’s only a cuppa. She sounds like the type who wants to show the rest of the world she can afford to be generous. It’ll also give the chance for everyone to check out the prices. I’ve come across her sort before. Bloody two-sheds,’ she repeated.

‘I had a quick look in the charity shop before I came in,’ Harriet said, returning to the problem of what her daughter was going to wear. ‘But I didn’t see anything I thought Sara might like.’ She noticed that the cutlery basket needed replenishing, so she went out the back and emptied the dishwasher.

‘You’ll have to go to the boot sale. Failing that, try Vinted,’ Pen called after her.

Harriet brought a handful of clean knives and forks with her, figuring that she may as well wrap them in serviettes while she had the time. No doubt she would be rushed off her feet in an hour.

‘I’m thinking that I might just have to bite the bullet this time and buy her something new,’ she was saying, as she used her behind to push the door open.

‘You can’t do that!’ Owen’s voice made her jump, and when she looked around, she saw him standing next to the counter, a disapproving expression on his face.

Harriet sighed. She’d been hoping Owen would never need to know. Although, saying that, she would probably have felt guilty about cheating, so she’d have had to come clean anyway. Wishing she hadn’t accepted the stupid challenge in the first place, she tried her best to explain.

‘So, you see, I haven’t got a great deal of choice,’ she added, after she had finished telling him about her problem.

‘Of course you’ve got a choice. You can choose not to participate in such blatant consumerism,’ he said.

‘That’s easy for you to say – you haven’t got any kids.’ Harriet stopped abruptly. ‘Have you?’

‘No…’

‘Well then!’ Basically, she was telling him to butt out, without saying the words.

Owen appeared to take the hint, as he didn’t say anything more on the subject. He also appeared to be disappointed, although what difference it was to him whether she bought her daughter a new dress or not was beyond her. Apart from it not helping the planet, of course, so there was that. And he was clearly very passionate about the environment.

One little purchase wasn’t going to make the slightest difference in the scheme of things, though, so he needn’t look so sad about it.

Then again, she reasoned, if everyone thought the same way – that the one new pair of shoes, vase or coffee table they’d had their eye on wasn’t going to make any difference – then everyone would carry on buying new, wouldn’t they, and knickers to the planet.

Grrr, she was cross with him for making her feel so guilty.

There was one thing shewashappy about, though, and the knowledge kept tugging at her like a five-year-old pulling on her sleeve for attention: she was as sure as she could be that Owen didn’t have a significant other. There hadn’t been the remotest hint of a woman’s presence in his van. She knew because she’d looked.

Harriet pulled herself together. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about Owen’s domestic arrangements, and neither was it any of her business. She never should have asked him whether he had children, and she certainly shouldn’t have asked him in such a confrontational manner.

‘Sorry, that was rude of me,’ she said.

---