Page 5 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘We?’

‘Everyone who cares enough about the environmental impact that burning fossil fuels causes, and don’t get me started on the destruction of huge swathes of land.’ He stopped, realising that her eyes were starting to glaze over. He wondered why he bothered. No matter how hard he campaigned, no matter how passionate he was, it didn’t seem to make any difference. It was like whistling into the wind.

‘Right, I’d better sort your order out.’ She tapped her pad with the pencil and he guessed he’d been a little too intense. He had a habit of doing that: unless the person he was talking to was as passionate about the environment as him, he often came across as a bit of a weirdo.

He watched the gentle sway of her hips out of the corner of his eye as she walked away, admiring her figure and how well she filled out her jeans.

Tearing his gaze away, his thoughts turned to work, so while he waited for his food to arrive, he put his tablet on the table, then shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair. He might as well make use of the time to check his emails. He also had an article to submit, so he’d send that out while he was here.

When the waitress returned with his water, he asked if the cafe had Wi-Fi and was relieved when she said they did and gave him the password. Living in the van, he always had one eye on his data usage, keen not to go over his limit. He lived frugally and didn’t want to spend money if he didn’t have to.

He opened up the app and was engrossed in checking the article for a final time when he sensed someone at his elbow and realised his meal was ready.

Moving the tablet out of the way so the waitress could put the plate on the table, he smiled up at her.

‘This looks delicious,’ he said, eyeing the stew and accompanying sourdough bread with pleasure.

‘It is. Enjoy. If you need anything else, give me a shout.’

‘Who should I shout for?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Harriet.’

He unwrapped some cutlery from a serviette. ‘I’m Owen.’

She cocked her head in an acknowledgement of sorts but didn’t offer anything further. He wasn’t surprised. No doubt she got chatted up all the time. And why should she want anything to do with the likes of him? He was only passing through, and was a bit odd to boot.

Saying that, though, he had nowhere to go and nowhere to be, so hecouldstay for a few days and explore the local area if he had a mind to.

He had been heading towards the Llyn Peninsula in the topmost northwest corner of Wales, purely because he had never been there before, but he quite liked the look of Foxmore so maybe he would hang around for a while.

Harriet left him to eat in peace, and as Owen tucked into his food, he checked out the local campsites. He much preferred to just pull off the road and find somewhere to park up, but that wasn’t strictly legal, so he’d best use a campsite.

The cafe had quietened considerably by the time he had finished eating, and when he put his spoon down, he saw Harriet sitting at a nearby table, chatting to another woman, one he had seen serving behind the counter. They were taking a break, and he noticed that Harriet’s sunny smile had disappeared and in its place she wore a sombre expression.

Owen didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but with fewer customers in the cafe he couldn’t help overhearing.

‘She’s growing up so fast,’ he heard Harriet say. ‘She’s only been at secondary school a few weeks and it’s already costing me a fortune. I thought it was bad enough when she was in primary.’

‘In what way?’ the other woman asked.

‘Uniform and all the kit aside, they’re asking for money for school trips, and she’s already been invited to a birthday party. Goodness knows what I’m going to buy the girl for a present. Kids Sara’s age aren’t happy with a colouring book and a pack of crayons.’

The other woman patted Harriet on the hand. ‘Have they ever been? I remember when mine were little; there was always one-upmanship when it came to birthday presents, and don’t get me started on the party bags. It feels like you have to give the kids a present just for turning up. In my day we used to be happy with a balloon and a piece of cake.’

‘Your day?’ Harriet scoffed. ‘Pen, you’re not that old!’

‘No, I just look it and feel it,’ the woman laughed.

‘You do not!’

‘I’ll be fifty-five next birthday. You’re what, thirty-three, thirty-four?’

‘Thirty-seven,’ Harriet said, and Owen was surprised to discover that she was closer to his own age of forty-one, because he had assumed she was younger.

Abruptly, he pulled himself up.

Why should her age matter? Why shouldanythingabout her matter? He wasn’t the kind of guy to leap into bed with a woman he’d only just met (even if she was up for it) and he didn’t intend to be around long enough to get to know Harriet properly.

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