Page 31 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘I thought he was very well-behaved.’

‘He was, but if he’d seen me buy Sara’s dress, he would have told her where it came from.’

‘And that’s a problem because…?’

‘If she knew it was second-hand, she would probably refuse to wear it.’

Owen studied her for a moment. ‘But isn’t that the point? That the younger generation understands there is more to life than blatant consumerism?’

Wow, that got heavy fast, Harriet thought. ‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed. ‘But there’s no point in lecturing Sara – she has to find out for herself that second-hand can be as good as new.’

‘Is that what I’m doing? Lecturing?’

‘Just a bit,’ Harriet conceded, smiling to show she didn’t mind.

‘I take it you managed to find a dress?’ he asked, and his brow shot up when she took the box out for him to see.

Hastily, she shoved it back into the tote bag as she heard Bobby unlock the toilet door. ‘I’ll show you another time,’ she said, meaningfully, hoping Owen wouldn’t say anything in front of Bobby.

To her relief, he changed the subject. ‘I think I promised you a coffee, didn’t I? And an apple juice for scamp, here.’

‘I’m not a scamp,’ Bobby objected. ‘That’s what Mammy calls Etta when she’s been naughty.’

‘Is she naughty very often?’ Owen asked.

‘Sometimes. She ate my mam’s shoes.’

‘She was only a puppy,’ Harriet said.

‘You’re so lucky having a dog,’ Owen said.

‘Why don’t you get one?’ Bobby asked.

‘I never seem to get round to it. I know – how about a hot chocolate? It’ll be Christmas soon.’

Harriet groaned. ‘Don’t remind me.’

‘It’s ages away,’ Bobby said.

‘Does that mean youdon’twant a hot chocolate?’ Owen teased, and Harriet’s heart swelled – he was so good with her son.

‘Idowant one,’ Bobby said. ‘Please,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘How about you, Harriet?’

‘Yes, please, that would be lovely.’ A hot chocolate did sound nice, and although she hadn’t realised it at the time, because she had been so busy enjoying herself, it was rather cold out. Not surprising, considering they were now into October.

She watched Owen bring some oat milk to the boil on the hob, and marvelled at how cosy his van was. It was a home away from home, and he seemed to have everything he needed.

‘Have you ever lived in a house?’ she blurted, then clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me.’

‘It’s a perfectly reasonable question,’ he said, getting a packet of cocoa powder out of an incredibly tidy and well-stocked cupboard. ‘I lived in a house until I was twenty-one. After uni, I went backpacking around Asia and Australia, earning my keep as I went, and I sort of fell into the van-life out there. It seemed only natural to buy my own van when I returned to the UK.’

‘Is this the same one?’

Owen chuckled. ‘This is my third. The first was a VW camper called Freda, and I had great fun in her, but she was too small to live in on a permanent basis. So I bought a converted Transit next, and when that eventually gave up the ghost, I got this one.’

Once again Harriet wanted to ask him what he did for a living, because she was pretty sure vans like this weren’t cheap, and she wondered how he financed his lifestyle. But she kept her mouth firmly closed and her curiosity to herself. Maybe if he stayed in Foxmore a while longer and she got to know him a bit better, she might bring herself to ask.

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