Page 34 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Pardon?’

‘If you win the bet.’

‘I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it.’

‘Maybe you should.’

Harriet gave her mother a keen stare. Is that all she could say? ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘so far, it’s worked out well. I’ve saved a fortune on a dress for Sara and bought loads of clothes for Bobby, plus I’m helping the planet at the same time. Owen’s mantra goes something like… if you don’t need it, don’t buy it, but if you do need it, buy second-hand if you can.’

‘This Owen sounds a bit of an odd bod to me,’ Ginny said.

‘He’s not an odd bod!’ Bobby was indignant, and Harriet blew out her cheeks. Her son seemed to be making a habit of overhearing conversations not meant for his little ears. ‘Tell her, Mam – he’s nice. I had a pee in his van.’

‘Pardon?’ Ginny gasped.

‘It’s a proper camper van, with a shower cubicle and toilet,’ Harriet explained, trying not to laugh at the incredulous expression on her mother’s face.

‘I see,’ Ginny said, faintly. ‘Is it like those that you see on a proper campsite, then?’

‘Were you imagining one of those colourful, horse-drawn, round-top waggons?’

‘I was a bit,’ her mam admitted.

‘He’s going to have a bath in our house, isn’t he, Mammy?’ Bobby had been listening avidly to the conversation.

‘No, cariad, he’s not.’

‘But he hasn’t got a bath.’

‘He’s got a shower, and that’s perfectly adequate.’

‘His shower is outside. He hung it off the side of his van,’ Bobby informed his grandmother.

‘Did he now?’ Ginny was starting to look rather concerned.

‘It’s a solar shower, Mam,’ Harriet said. ‘He hangs it outside so the sun heats the water, then takes it inside to shower. He doesn’t shower in the middle of a field.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Ginny’s expression was pained. ‘I can’t see it warming up much in the winter.’

‘He’s also got a proper shower inside, with a heater,’ Harriet said.

‘You seem to know an awful lot about him and his van, considering you’ve only known him five minutes.’ Ginny’s mouth was a straight line. She clearly didn’t approve of Harriet’s new acquaintance. Harriet wondered how her mam would feel if she realised Harriet fancied the pants off him, but consoled herself with the knowledge that her mam would never find out.

And thankfully neither would Owen.

Vegan Sunday lunches were usually hard to come by, but The Jolly Fox had two dishes on the menu. Admittedly, one was a nut roast (wasn’t it always?), but the other was harissa roasted cauliflower, which sounded delicious.

Owen was sitting in Foxmore’s one and only pub, drinking in the atmosphere as well as a pint of Guinness. It was busy, which he took as a good sign, and the aroma of cooking and wood smoke hung in the air.

He had found an empty table near the log burner, and he stretched his legs out towards it and eased his shoes off to warm his toes. He wasn’t cold, despite the weather having taken a turn for the worse. Gone was the bright autumnal day they’d enjoyed yesterday and in its place was dank, dismal gloominess, and he guessed that winter was well and truly on its way. In just over two months the shortest day would be upon them, and Owen wasn’t looking forward to it much. Although the van was cosy, the long nights meant less time spent outside and more time cooped up inside. It was then that he wished he had someone to share it with. Someone special.

Harriet’s face swam into his mind, and he snorted.

‘No, not her,’ he said to himself. He might be attracted to her, but she wasn’t his type. She didn’t share his passion for the environment, for one thing – although he had to admit that she was making an effort. She had been delighted with her purchases yesterday, and he wondered how she’d got on with the dress and Sara. He had been hoping she’d have shown it to him, but he could understand why she hadn’t. Bobby was a sweetheart, but he couldn’t be expected to keep the origins of the dress to himself.

On impulse, Owen took his phone out of his pocket and sent her a text.

Has Sara seen her dress yet? If so, what did she think?

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