Page 51 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Sorry, he was so quiet that I forgot he was there,’ Kelly said.

‘That’s OK.’

‘What’s this guy like then? Pen said he was seriously good-looking.’

‘He is, in a nerdy kind of way. He’s more Clark Kent than Superman… if you like that sort of thing,’ Harriet added.

‘You clearly do,’ Kelly retorted. ‘I’m going to have to take a walk over to Aled’s field and check him out.’

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Ooh, want to keep him all to yourself, do you?’ Kelly teased, keeping her voice low.

‘Certainly not!’

‘Have you seen the inside of his van? What’s it like? I can’t imagine living in one all year round in our climate, can you?’

‘Actually, I can. It’s very cosy.’

Kelly raised her eyebrows. ‘How cosy is cosy?’

‘Get your mind out of the gutter. I had the kids with me.’ Harriet wasn’t going to tell her the whole story, or that she had been in it by herself without the kids. ‘It’s incredibly compact, but he’s got proper kitchen space, a shower and loo cubicle, and he’s even got a mini wood-burning stove.’

‘I don’t think I could be bothered setting up the bed every night. We had to do that last year when we rented a caravan. It was a pain in the backside.’

‘He’s got a bed over the cab,’ Harriet said, then blushed again as she thought of him in it.

‘I think you fancy him more than you’re letting on,’ Kelly began, but just at that moment Bobby let out a shout as Sara and Catrin appeared, and Harriet was saved from any further grilling.

Kelly had a point, though – Harriet did fancy him. Far more than was good for her.

‘You’re not closing yet, are you?’ Owen asked, pushing through the door to the zero-waste shop and hoping he wasn’t too late. His cupboards were looking decidedly empty, as was his fridge, although he would probably have to go to the supermarket to find vegan milk and cheese.

‘You’ve got a few minutes,’ one of the women behind the counter said, and Owen recognised her as the vicar’s wife. Another woman was standing next to her, poring over a tablet.

Owen smiled his thanks and began to peruse the shelves. Good, they had porridge oats and wholemeal flour, and he scanned the baskets of nuts and seeds, pleased to see they had a good selection.

He took some containers out of his bag and popped them on the counter.

‘Shall I weigh them for you?’ Betsan asked.

‘If you don’t mind, that would be great. I love your shop, by the way,’ he said, gazing around in satisfaction. There should be more shops like these on Britain’s high streets.

‘It’s not mine, per se,’ Betsan said. ‘It’s a co-operative. It belongs to the village as a whole, in a way.’

Owen had heard of co-operatives but he didn’t know a great deal about them. ‘Sounds interesting,’ he said. ‘And worthwhile.’

‘It is! Although if Cornerstone had built a supermarket on the outskirts of Foxmore like they were planning, our little shop probably wouldn’t exist due to the competition.’

‘Supermarkets have their place,’ he said diplomatically, ‘but I’m glad your shop is here. I always buy zero waste when I can.’

The other woman, who had so far not said anything, looked up from the screen. ‘You wouldn’t like to buy into it, would you? We have some shares available.’

‘Rowena! You’ll scare him off. At least let him buy stuff first.’ Betsan laughed. ‘Anyway, this is the bloke I was telling you about – the one who is camping in Aled’s field. I doubt he’ll be staying in Foxmore long enough to want to buy shares in Sero.’

‘Oh, I don’t know…’ Owen mused. ‘I might hang around for a bit.’

Betsan grinned. ‘I know someone who’ll be pleased to hear that.’

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