Page 38 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Sweet potatoes, garlic, an onion, tinned tomatoes… I can bring the sweet potatoes, as they were going to go in my soup, too.’

‘Then I don’t need to go shopping now,’ Harriet said.

‘When do you want me?’

He watched with interest as a spot of colour appeared on her cheeks, but he put it down to the keen easterly wind. They were now well into October and the weather was distinctly autumnal. Forecasters were predicting a harsh winter and Owen reminded himself that he needed to buy some more logs. He stored them in the roof box on top of the van, and he liked to ensure he had enough fuel for a couple of weeks at least, in case he got snowed in.

‘Um… four thirty? The children come home at about half-three and I’ll have to take Etta out before I start cooking.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s too dark to take her out afterwards.’

‘I can take her for you, if you want? It’ll give you a break.’

‘I can’t let you do that!’

‘Why not? I don’t mind and I quite fancy a stroll by the river.’

She was gazing at him quizzically and he wondered what she was thinking. He hoped he wasn’t coming on too strong and giving her the wrong idea. He might be extremely attracted to her, but he had no intention of acting on his feelings, and he didn’t want her to think he was hitting on her.

‘That would be great, thanks. Sara hates coming in from school and having to go straight back out again to walk the dog, but she’s not old enough to be left on her own just yet.’ She chuckled. ‘According to her, she’s plenty old enough – she’s eleven going on twenty.’ There was pride in her voice. ‘I’d better get a move on or I’ll be late for work. Will you be popping into the cafe later?’

‘I doubt it, but I’ll see you at three thirty.’

‘Three thirty it is. I’ll send you my address.’ She gave him a bright smile and then walked off down the pavement, leaving Owen staring after her, a warm glow in his chest.

Harriet didn’t tell Pen she’d invited Owen for tea. She tried to convince herself it was because she couldn’t take the ribbing, but the real reason was that she didn’t want Pen to see how pleased she was. She was nervous too, and not entirely sure why she’d asked him in the first place, especially since she had no intention of this being anything more than a friendly gesture. Pen certainly wouldn’t accept the explanation, as her boss had mentioned Owen so often during the past week that Harriet wished she’d never told her she had met Owen at the boot sale. And every time his name had passed her lips, Pen had given her a meaningful look.

Pen guessed that something was up, though, because she’d twice asked Harriet if she was all right.

‘I’m fine,’ Harriet said, when Pen asked her for a third time as she hurried towards the door, eager to go home. She wanted to change out of her work uniform of black trousers and a black shirt, and into something nicer.

‘Youcantalk to me, you know,’ Pen called after her.

‘I know. Must dash! See you tomorrow,’ she shouted back, then she was pelting along the street and hoping Owen wouldn’t turn up until she’d at least managed to run a comb through her hair.

It was only when she reached her house that she slowed down and asked herself what she was playing at. This wasn’t a date: this was merely an acquaintance popping around for a meal. She couldn’t even refer to him as a friend yet, although she would like to. Telling herself that she had invited him because she wanted to thank him for introducing her to the benefits of not buying new, she hurried inside and dashed up the stairs, unbuttoning her work shirt as she took them two at a time. Kicking off her shoes, she unzipped her trousers, almost falling over in her haste to remove them, and yanked the clip out of her hair.

Finally in her underwear, she had just delved into her wardrobe when the doorbell rang, and Etta, who Harriet had yet to release from the kitchen, began barking madly.

Drat!

Grabbing the first thing she laid her hands on, Harriet dragged a knitted dress over her head and smoothed it down. With no time to tame her hair, she scurried back down the stairs and flung the door open.

Owen was standing on her step looking cool and collected, and very delectable.

Harriet swallowed nervously. ‘Hi, come in. I was just getting changed.’

‘I’m early. Sorry. Shall I leave and come back later?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Harriet moved aside to let him enter, and as soon as he stepped inside and had his back to her, she hastily ran her fingers through her hair, suspecting she had made more of a mess of it than it was already. ‘Go through,’ she said, her eyes on his behind as he went into the kitchen ahead of her.

Etta immediately launched herself at him, her whippy tail lashing from side to side. She ignored Harriet.

‘Nice to see you too, Etta,’ she said sarcastically, as the pooch whimpered and danced around Owen’s legs. ‘Just you remember who fills your food bowl every day.’

‘She’s so friendly,’ Owen said, crouching down to pet her.

‘If she carries on like this, you can have her,’ Harriet muttered. ‘Ungrateful hound.’

As though Etta understood, the dog turned her attention to her mistress, and Harriet scooped her up and cuddled her close, breathing in the familiar and comforting doggy smell. ‘If you’re still up for taking her for a walk, you might want to make a move before the kids get home,’ she advised, ‘because I’ll bet my right arm that Bobby will want to go with you.’

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