Page 86 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Sara had been quieter than usual during tea, but Harriet was pleased to see her perk up now that the tree was about to be decorated. Some of the tension had leaked from her thin shoulders and she smiled more frequently. Harriet’s own smile was less false cheeriness and more natural, and she was starting to enjoy herself. From the grin on Owen’s face, she thought he might be enjoying himself, too.

As Owen held the base of the tree steady, Harriet slid each portion into place until it stood upright. It wasn’t a small tree, almost reaching the ceiling, and it always looked magnificent when it was decorated.

‘I expect you’re going to say I should have a real tree,’ she commented, as Owen sifted through one of the boxes, picking out baubles, examining them and putting them back again.

‘On the contrary. It’s good that you reuse it year after year. I’d much prefer you do that than cut down a real tree. There is another option, which is to plant one in a pot outside and bring it in for ten days or so each year, but they don’t tend to like being indoors much, and sometimes they die.’

‘I take it you don’t have a tree?’

‘Instead of a tree I have a red-deer antler.’ He glanced at the children and lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. ‘I tell my nephew and niece that it’s Rudolph’s spare and he’s asked me to look after it.’

‘Aw, that’s sweet. Where did you get it?’

‘Scotland. I was on the moors one day a few years back and I found it. It looks great with a couple of acorns and some mistletoe hanging from it. That reminds me, I must pick some mistletoe – I think it’s going to come in handy.’ He smirked at her and she giggled when he plonked a kiss on her lips.

‘Mam and Owen are kissing again,’ Bobby told his sister, and the look of disgust on her daughter’s face had Harriet in stitches.

She’d had a conversation with both children concerning her burgeoning romance with Owen, not seeking their permission as such, but rather checking that they didn’t object. She knew they liked Owen, but liking a man was a different ball game to him dating their mother. Although Declan’s contact with them was sporadic, she was conscious that he was still their father, and the last thing she wanted was to upset them, or make them think he was being replaced.

It had made her feel both sad and glad that, apart from both kids expressing childish disgust at the thought of her and Owen kissing, they didn’t mind at all. Sara, with a surprising degree of maturity, had observed that Harriet seemed to be happier since she’d met Owen and she wanted her mam to be happy.

It had brought tears to Harriet’s eyes, and she’d hugged Sara so hard that her daughter had begged her to stop. Those poor kids – how could Declan not want to be part of their lives? He had no idea what he was missing and it broke her heart that he had discarded them so easily. Thankfully, her children seemed to be coping and coming to terms with it, and she thought that, for Bobby at least, Owen had a big part to play in that.

Her stomach fluttered as she gazed at the man in question, who was hanging baubles on the branches the kids couldn’t reach. Sara was bossing him about mercilessly and Bobby was hopping with excitement, and she swallowed as her heart filled with love.

When the tree was finally dressed in all its festive glory and the rest of the trimmings had been put up, including the elf on the shelf, Harriet made smooth, velvety hot chocolate for everyone. She then turned all the lights off, except for the ones on the tree, and the four of them sang along to the haunting words of ‘Silent Night’.

And, as she gazed at the glowing faces of her children and her eyes came to rest on an equally glowing Owen, Harriet realised Sara was right: she did feel happier than she had been for a very long time.

As far as Team Macbeth was concerned, Owen was now a firmly established member, so he reluctantly said goodnight to Harriet a short while later and made his way to The Jolly Fox. He would have much preferred to stay and cuddle with her on the sofa, but he had promised to be there for tonight’s quiz, so be there he would.

The fact that he and Harriet would have a significant chunk of Saturday all to themselves helped to soften the blow of leaving her earlier than he would have liked, so he had a skip in his step as he sauntered into the hop-fragranced warmth of the bar and scanned the tables for his teammates.

He spotted them immediately, hogging the coveted spot to the left of the fireplace. It was the snuggest place to be on a crisp and chilly December evening, and Mrs Moxley eagerly waved him over.

‘It’s looking very festive, isn’t it?’ he noted. A pint of his usual tipple sat on the table as he took his seat and he thanked Dee for getting a drink in for him. Gratefully, he lifted the glass to his lips for a long, satisfying swallow.

‘Have you trimmed up yet?’ Dee asked. ‘Or don’t you believe in Christmas?’

‘Of course I believe in Christmas,’ he said, wiping his mouth and hoping he didn’t have a foam moustache, or else he’d start to look like Santa. He certainly felt an affinity to the jolly, red-coated man after immersing himself in the decorating frenzy that had taken place in the Parry household. He had been fascinated by all the homemade baubles that had been produced with considerable pride and a great deal of flourish. She’d told him that each year the children made another clutch of decorations to go on the tree, and some of them had been remarkably good, which had led him to believe that Harriet might have given Sara and Bobby a helping hand.

‘And in answer to your question,’ he continued, ‘I haven’t put my own trimmings up yet, but I have been helping Harriet put hers up, so I’m all trimmed-out for the time being.’

Pen beamed at him. ‘It makes me so glad to see the two of you getting on so well. I could tell from the minute Harriet set eyes on you that she was infatuated, and if I’m not mistaken, you are too.’

‘I might be,’ he acknowledged coyly.

‘She deserves to have some happiness,’ Pen carried on.

‘She certainly does!’ His reply was heartfelt.

Pen studied him, her expression stern. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but Harriet is very dear to me so I’m going to ask you something. What happens after Christmas? I’m not naïve enough to think you’re only staying in Foxmore to make sure Harriet keeps her promise of not buying anything new until then, but will you move on in the New Year or is she enough to keep you here?’

Gosh, that was a personal question. Not even Harriet had been as blunt. ‘I’ll be spending Christmas with my family in West Wales,’ he said. ‘But I’m definitely coming back to Foxmore in the New Year.’

‘Glad to hear it. I would hate to think Harriet was just a piece of skirt to you,’ Mrs Moxley said, in her usual forthright manner.

‘I care for Harriet a great deal,’ he said.

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