Page 30 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Slowly and methodically, Harriet worked her way along the rail, liking many of the items, some of which were Sara’s size, many of which weren’t.

‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ the seller asked.

‘Um, yes, a dress for my daughter.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Eleven.’

‘I’ve got some more girls’ clothes over here,’ the woman said, and Harriet noticed another rail on the other side of the large black Range Rover. ‘How about something like this?’ The seller held up a navy dress with small two-tone pink hearts dotted over it. ‘My daughter wore it to a christening, so it might be over-the-top for everyday wear,’ the woman added.

‘It’s for a special occasion,’ Harriet said, staring at it. It was perfect – exactly the kind of thing she was looking for. The style wasn’t too babyish, but neither was it too grown-up. ‘May I?’ She held out a hand.

‘Of course.’

Harriet took it from her and turned it around, thinking furiously. Would Sara like it? Her daughter liked hearts and she loved this shade of bright pink in particular. The fabric was a sort of stiff satin, which gave the skirt some body, and was silky to the touch. The dress was finished off at the back by a row of pink heart-shaped buttons running from the neck to the waist.

‘There’s a little bag to go with it,’ the woman said.

Oh, that clinched it! The bag was made out of the same fabric as the dress, with the addition of a gold chain for the strap and the buckle to hold the flap closed. The only drawback was that neither the dress nor the bag had a price tag.

‘How much for both?’ Harriet asked.

The woman pursed her plum-coloured lips. ‘Well, they are designer and they were rather expensive new, so…’ She paused and Harriet’s heart sank.Why come to a boot sale if you’re trying to sell high-end items?she thought.

‘How about thirty pounds for the pair?’

‘Make it twenty-five and you’ve got yourself a deal!’ The words were out of Harriet’s mouth before her brain had a chance to engage.

‘Deal!’ the woman echoed. ‘I’ve got the box for it somewhere.’

‘Oh, there’s no need,’ Harriet said, fishing another tote out of her shoulder bag. But she hastily changed her mind when she saw the box the woman was referring to – it had the same designer name across the top and must have been the one the dress originally came in. She said, ‘I will take the box, after all.’ And she was even more delighted when the woman took the lid off to reveal several layers of pink and navy tissue paper.

Harriet watched as the dress was carefully wrapped and placed inside the box, then she handed over the money. Clutching her purchases, she decided she was done for the day. The dress had cost rather more than she had intended to spend, but together with Bobby’s clothes, she thought she’d done well.

Sara could still do with a wardrobe overhaul, though. Harriet had been shocked at how many of Sara’s clothes no longer fitted, but she had enough to be going on with for the time being, even if she didn’t see it that way.

Harriet left the field and strolled into the next, and was the first to arrive at the van, so she parked her bum on the edge of the old water trough while she waited, feeling so pleased with herself she could burst. The box was a brilliant touch. There was no way Sara would ever guess that her mam had bought it second-hand, not when it came in a posh box and was wrapped in tissue paper. And it was so nice of Owen to offer to take Bobby off her hands for a while, otherwise she never would have bought it.

She heard her son before she saw him, and she followed his chatty progress down the lane towards the gate. He and Owen were on the other side of the hedge, and she stifled a giggle as she listened to Bobby question Owen about the van.

‘Can I use the toilet?’ Bobby asked.

‘You may, but I’ve got to warn you, it’s a bit cramped.’

‘What does “cramped” mean?’

‘Small,’ Owen explained. ‘Closed-in.’

‘I don’t mind. I haven’t peed in a van before.’

Harriet would never know what Owen was going to say to that observation, because just then they reached the kissing gate and Etta spotted her. She was pulling at the lead as usual, and when she saw Harriet, the dog pulled even harder, wagging her tail and uttering little whimpers of delight.

While Harriet greeted her and asked her son whether he’d behaved himself, Owen unlocked the van.

‘Off you go,’ he said to Bobby, and Bobby scampered up the steps. ‘He needs a wee,’ Owen explained.

‘I know. I heard.’ She beamed at him. ‘Thank you so much for entertaining him for half an hour. It would have been a nightmare to buy anything for Sara with Bobby tagging along.’

---