Page 24 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Owen was peering at the specials board. He still looked disappointed. ‘That’s OK.’ He turned to face her. ‘I didn’t think buying second-hand was your cup of tea, to be honest.’

‘Why not?’

‘Er…’

‘Tell me.’ She put her hands on her hips.

‘You don’t look the type.’

‘And what type is that, may I ask?’

‘Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘I want to know.’

‘The type to compromise,’ he said, wincing.

‘What do you mean?’

He let out a sigh and shrugged. ‘Let me put it another way – you’re not as passionate about saving the planet as I am.’

Harriet squinted at him. That’s not what he had meant at all. He was trying to be diplomatic, but she wanted to know.

‘I might not be as passionate, but I do care,’ she said. ‘What were you going to say before you decided to be tactful?’

He shot her a look, and she smirked. She had two children: she was used to spotting lies, even if this was only a little white one.

‘OK, you asked for it.’ He took a breath and she wondered just how bad this could be, as he said, ‘You strike me as the sort of person who, if she wants something, she simply goes out and buys it.’ His glance swept over her, from the top of her piled-up hair to the leather brogues on her feet, and everything in between. It felt less like the assessing look she knew it to be and more of a caress, and a tremor travelled down her spine. ‘With little thought to the cost or the impact on the environment,’ he added.

Harriet was aware of Pen’s sharp intake of breath, and she sent her boss a quick look to reassure her she wasn’t going to blow her top.

‘Have you decided what you want?’ she asked, mildly.

Owen blinked at the change of subject but rallied well enough. ‘Er, yeah. Could I have the pumpkin soup, please? And a mint tea?’

‘Take a seat. I’ll bring it over.’

Harriet took her time ladling the soup into a bowl and putting it on a tray, along with several slices of seeded bread and a knob of vegan spread. She quickly popped a tea bag into a mug, then poured herself a coffee.

As she unloaded the tray, Owen gave her a tentative smile. He was clearly hoping she had forgiven him for being so blunt. She soon wiped it off his face when she pulled out a chair and sat down opposite.

‘You eat, I’ll talk,’ she said, and waited for him to unfold his spoon from the serviette it was wrapped in and dip it into his soup.

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ he said, taking a sip.

‘I know. I made it myself.’

He cocked his head in acknowledgement and ate another spoonful, following it up with a morsel of bread.

As soon as his mouth was occupied, Harriet began to speak.

‘You’re wrong about me,’ she said. ‘I wish I did have the money to simply go out and buy whatever I want, whenever I want. But I don’t.’

He swallowed hastily, and she could see he was about to say something, so she held up her hand.

When he subsided, she continued, ‘I’m very careful with money – I have to be. I’m a single parent with two kids, a house to run and a greedy dog. I’ve got an ex-husband who only believes in paying the minimum amount of maintenance, and a part-time job that barely keeps my head above water. What you see—’ she gestured to herself ‘—is the result of buying good-quality things and looking after them. Yes, a couple of years ago your assessment of me would probably have been right. But not any more. I’ve not bought any new clothes for myself for over two years; I’ve not been to the hairdresser for eighteen months.’

‘She’s right,’ Pen chimed in from where she was lurking near the cake display. ‘I cut her hair for her now.’

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