Page 3 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Harriet threw the dog’s lead to her son and Bobby deftly caught it, clipping it onto the dog’s collar while Harriet made sure she had poo bags and a ball in her pocket.

‘I hate taking Etta for a walk,’ Sara grumbled, as Harriet locked the front door behind them and they set off down the road. ‘It’s boring.’

‘You wanted a dog,’ Harriet reminded her. ‘What happened to all those promises of “I’ll feed her, I’ll groom her, I’ll walk her and I’ll pick up her poop”?’

‘Mam!Stop it,’ Sara hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard her mother mention the embarrassing subject of poo-picking.

There was no one else on the street, but even if there had been, it was unlikely to be Darlene, or any of Sara’s other friends.

‘Why? If you’ve got a dog, you need to pick up after it,’ Harriet pointed out.

‘Gross.’ Sara gave a theatrical shudder and pulled a face.

‘You used to do it—’

‘Stop talking about it.’

‘I pick up poo, don’t I, Mammy?’ Bobby tugged her sleeve.

‘That’s because you’re a snot,’ Sara said.

‘Don’t call your brother names. He’s being a responsible dog owner.’

‘Snotty, snotty,’ Sara chanted.

‘Mam, tell her!’ Bobby shoved his sister, who promptly shoved him back. ‘Mam, she pushed me.’

‘He pushed me first.’

‘Stop arguing, else you’ll both be poo-picking for the rest of the week,’ Harriet warned.

Sara opened her mouth. ‘That’s not fai—’

‘Shh.’ Harriet glared at her, then glared at Bobby for good measure.

They walked without speaking for a while. The children might be sulking, but Harriet didn’t care – she relished the silence. However, Bobby soon perked up when they turned off the road and onto the path leading to the river, and he let Etta off her lead.

The dog scampered a few paces ahead, her nose down, tail up. This was probably her favourite place in the whole world, and Harriet smiled as she watched the dachshund sniff and snuffle her way along the path. No doubt she could smell the numerous other dogs who were also taken for walks along this stretch of the river, as well as the mice, shrews, voles and rabbits that lived in the undergrowth. Birds were plentiful, even though the swallows and swifts that were often seen swooping and diving over the meadows and fields to either side of the river had now flown south for the winter. There was a chill in the air, and the leaves of the trees lining the banks were turning the most glorious shades of burnt umber, nutmeg and cerise.

Harriet loved autumn. The run-up to Christmas with its fireworks and bonfires, the smell of woodsmoke in the air, the crispness of frost and dried leaves underfoot, the mists that hung over the river…

But although she might enjoy the outdoors, she wasn’t looking forward to what went on indoors over the next couple of months, and her thoughts returned to the thorny problem of being able to afford all those Christmas presents that her children would ask for.

She hated disappointing them, but with Declan giving her only the bare minimum in child support, she had no choice. Sara still believed in Santa Clause, but even if she didn’t Harriet had no intention of burdening her daughter’s young shoulders with the knowledge that the family was only just holding its financial head above water.

As she watched Sara forget the sulk she was in at being forced out of the house for such a dreadful reason as taking the dog for a walk on a lovely September evening, and play hide-and-seek with her brother in the bushes, Etta joining in with gleeful abandon, Harriet shoved her worries to the back of her mind and concentrated on her blessings. She had two lovely healthy children, they had a roof over their heads and they lived in a beautiful part of the world. Not only that, she had an adorable pup and a part-time job that fitted in with school holidays. Aside from wishing she had enough money so she didn’t have to struggle, what more could Harriet ask for?

Love? Romance?She heard Pen’s voice in her head and scowled.

Pen owned Pen’s Pantry where Harriet worked, and the annoying woman had been trying to set her up for some time now.

Harriet loved Pen to bits, but she didn’t need a man in her life. She’d had enough trouble with Declan, and even if she hadn’t, she couldn’t face all that dating nonsense again. She wasn’t in her twenties any more, and she had young children to boot. Maybe when they were older and had flown the nest, she might open herself to romance again. But not right now. Besides, there weren’t many eligible bachelors in Foxmore, and none she fancied – so it was a moot point and Pen was barking up the wrong tree.

Speaking of trees and barking, Etta had managed to chase a squirrel up an ancient oak and was dancing around the base of the trunk, yelping hysterically. The little creature was high up on one of the spreading branches, chattering crossly.

With a smile, Harriet went to rescue the dog.

Chapter 2

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