Page 77 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘His loo broke,’ Harriet explained. ‘He slept on the sofa,’ she added. ‘It was only for two nights.’

‘Twonights?’ Ginny pursed her lips.

‘The kids like him.’

‘How about you? Doyoulike him?’ The question was loaded with meaning.

Harriet did, but she wished she didn’t. ‘He’s OK,’ she said.

Ginny gave her the kind of look that meant she didn’t believe her, but thankfully she let it go. ‘I’d better get off. Your dad wants to go to the garden centre.’

‘It’s November; surely he’s not thinking of buying plants?’

‘He wants to stock up on seeds for the spring, so I told him he could treat me to a cuppa and a cake. You should come; a bit of fresh air will do you good.’

‘I’ll have all the fresh air I can handle when I take Etta out,’ she moaned. It was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

Or next to last, she thought sadly, when her phone pinged again with another message from Owen. A message which she ignored, like the last three. At some point she was going to have to speak to him.

There must be something wrong, Owen worried, when yet another message went unread. He could tell it had been delivered, but the double-tick had yet to turn blue. And she hadn’t answered his calls, either. He debated whether to pop around, but felt it might be bordering on stalking. She would speak to him in her own good time.

Unless something was wrong…

And he was back in another cycle of wondering whether he should go and see her, before talking himself out of it once more.

He hadn’t heard from Harriet since yesterday morning, and he wanted to know how the party had gone, as well as wanting to hear her voice for the sake of it. Surprised by how much he missed her, he picked up his phone again. Nope, she’d still not read his messages.

Had he done something to upset her? Was she ghosting him?

His heart plummeted.

Nah, she wouldn’t do that to him. Would she?

He didn’t think she would. He hoped that she would tell him to his face if she didn’t want to see him again. She wouldn’t leave him hanging.

But what if there was something wrong?

No one would think to let him know – apart from Pen, maybe.

Pen!That was it! He would call into Pen’s Pantry, which had just started opening on Sundays in anticipation of the high street being busy in the run-up to Christmas, and ask her if she knew whether Harriet was OK. He’d have a camomile tea to soothe his nerves while he was there.

The cafe was busier than he had expected, and so was the high street and the shops around the green. With only six weeks to Christmas, festive buying was ramping up – which reminded him, he needed to get a move on in that regard, and he wondered whether he should give Harriet and the children something. Would it look odd if he did? Would it look mean if he didn’t?

He would ask Pen’s advice. It would be a good excuse to talk to her.

He found a free table and shrugged off his coat. The inside of the cafe was warm and steamy, the coffee machine belching out clouds. The chiller was filled with cakes and sandwiches that would normally have tempted him, but right now he was too tense to eat, even though it was nearing midday and he hadn’t had any breakfast. He should be hungry, but all he felt was sick.

‘Hi, Pen, a camomile tea, please.’

Pen gave him a weak smile and nodded, and he knew instantly that something was most definitely wrong. The cafe owner couldn’t look him in the eye.

He followed her to the counter, and she jumped when she realised he was behind her.

‘Sit back down, I’ll bring it over,’ she told him.

‘Actually, I wanted to pick your brains. I’m not sure whether I should buy Harriet and the kids a Christmas gift. I think I should, but I don’t want her to feel awkward. Maybe if I just got the children a little present? What do you advise?’

‘Um, I’m not sure.’ Pen turned away, busying herself with some plates. ‘Did you want a sandwich to go with your tea? I’ve not got any hot food today, sorry.’

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