Page 33 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Yes, please.’

‘Blackcurrant squash?’

Bobby nodded. ‘Can I take one for Sara? We’re building a den in the leaves.’

‘Of course you can. Den-building, eh? Is Grandad waging war on the fallen leaves again?’ Harriet lifted a couple of plastic glasses down from the cupboard next to the sink.

Ginny said, ‘You know he gets uptight about the state of the lawn this time every year. And stop trying to change the subject.’

‘In a minute, Mam,’ she said quietly. ‘Here you go.’ She handed the drinks to Bobby. ‘Be careful you don’t spill any.’

Bobby took one in each hand and turned slowly on his heel, a look of intense concentration on his face as he walked carefully out of the kitchen.

As soon as the door to the utility closed behind him, Ginny gave Harriet a look.

Harriet sighed. ‘OK, if you must know, I met Owen in the cafe. He’s a… he’s um… a kind of traveller, I suppose.’

Her mother’s mouth dropped open. ‘A traveller? I don’t like the sound of that.’

Harriet frowned: her parents could be quite narrow-minded at times. ‘He’s not what you think. He does live in a van, but he’s an environmentalist,’ she added.

‘What does that mean, when it’s at home?’

Despite herself, Harriet smiled. Her parents, her mam especially, were full of old-fashioned sayings. ‘He’s passionate about the environment.’

‘So are a lot of people, but they don’t all live in vans,’ Ginny shot back.

‘I think he goes where he’s needed,’ Harriet said, not entirely sure what she was talking about. Maybe if she knew what he did for a living, she might have a better idea; but she didn’t, so what she was saying was mostly guesswork. ‘He’s recently lobbied the Welsh Assembly Government to close all open-cast coal mines.’

Ginny didn’t look convinced.

Harriet carried on. ‘Anyway, we got talking and he suggested I go to a boot sale to look for a dress for Sara.’

‘Your dad and I would have paid for her dress,’ Ginny objected.

‘I know, but as I said – I can manage.’

‘You’re as stubborn as your father.’ Ginny huffed and folded her arms. ‘Like two peas in a pod, you are. And Sara’s the same, so the next time you complain about her being pig-headed, take a look in the mirror.’

‘Yes, Mam.’ Harriet would much prefer to discuss her stubborn tendencies than to discuss Owen. But if she thought her mam was done with the subject, she was sadly mistaken.

‘You met this man in the cafe, you say?’

‘That’s right.’

‘You were at work?’

Harriet nodded.

‘If that’s the case, how come Bobby knows about him?’

‘He –we– bumped into him at the boot sale.’

Ginny continued to stare at her, her foot tapping. ‘And?’ she demanded.

There was no fooling her mam, was there? ‘OK, here’s the lowdown. Owen came into Pen’s Pantry and heard me moaning to Pen about Sara wanting something new for this damned party.’ In her head Harriet had started referring to the event as the ‘damned party’ and it seemed to have stuck. ‘I was carrying on about how she had loads of clothes and didn’t appreciate what she had, and we got talking about consumerism and the throw-away society we live in, and he bet me that I couldn’t go a week without buying anything new. I decided to go one better and told him I could get to Christmas.’

‘What do you win?’ her mam interrupted.

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