Page 80 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I knew Sara wouldn’t like the idea, yet I still went ahead and bought the damned dress.’

Bobby poked his head into the kitchen. ‘Can I come down now? Hi, Owen.’ He hung back shyly.

‘Hi, sprout.’

‘Of course you can.’ Harriet said to Owen, ‘He’s been hiding in his room since Granny left, in case Sara went off on one again.’

‘Sara’s silly. I don’t care if my stuff used to belong to someone else. Even if you bought it from a proper shop, it will have belonged to them first.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ Owen said, ruffling the boy’s hair as he moved to the table.

Bobby was eyeing the cakes. ‘Can I have one, please?’

‘Only if you promise to eat your lunch,’ Harriet said.

Bobby tucked in with enthusiasm. ‘Shall I tell Sara we have cakes?’ he asked, around a mouthful of apple turnover.

‘If you like, but I doubt she’ll come down for one. She’s not very happy with me at the moment.’

‘She’ll get over it,’ Bobby said. He took his cake with him and Owen heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs.

‘She will,’ he said. ‘You’re her mum and she loves you.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it sometimes,’ Harriet said sadly. ‘I’m losing her. I thought I’d have a few more years before teenage angst set in, but it looks like Sara has started early. I wish she wasn’t growing up so fast.’

‘I don’t want to grow up, Mammy.’ Sara hovered by the door.

‘Sara, cariad, have a cake. Kelly brought them. Catrin would have come with her, but she’s got ballet.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Sara looked so miserable that Owen wished he could turn back the clock. If he could relive the day he met Harriet, he never would have leapt into a private conversation. But if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be sitting here now, falling in love with her, and that didn’t bear thinking about.

Sara sidled closer to her mother and her chin wobbled. He could tell from her red eyes that she had been crying, and he felt so guilty. He was to blame for the fact that this girl was hurting. Him and his ideals!

‘It’s my fault,’ he said to her. ‘I’m so, so sorry. If I hadn’t bet your mum that she couldn’t go a week without buying anything new, you wouldn’t be in this position.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Sara said in a small voice.

‘No, it’s mine,’ Harriet sighed.

Sara looked up from underneath her lashes. ‘Maybe a little, but Granny explained. I wish you’d said something, Mam. I would have understood.’

‘Would you?’ Harriet held her arms open and Sara rushed into them. Harriet gazed at Owen over the top of her daughter’s head, her expression inscrutable.

‘I would havetried,’ Sara amended with a sniffle. ‘Are we really poor?’

‘How can we be poor when we’ve got each other?’ Harriet told her, burying her face in her daughter’s hair, her voice muffled.

Owen crept into the hall. This was a private family moment and he was acutely conscious he was intruding.

‘Where are you going?’ Harriet called after him.

‘Er, I thought you might want to be alone,’ he said, pausing mid-step.

‘You’re not leaving me to plan a Christmas Fayre all on my own! Get back here. We’ve got work to do.’

Owen’s spirits lifted. ‘You’re going ahead with it?’ He sidled back into the kitchen.

‘Weare. But I’m going to need help. Sara, how do you feel about helping me, Owen and Kelly hold a Christmas Fayre on Holly Field?’ And when she told her daughter all about it, Owen was gratified to see the child’s misery ease a little.

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