Page 94 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Pen continued to stare at her. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go home? I can manage.’

That was what Harriet was worried about. That Penwouldbe able to manage without her – permanently. She was also worried about what she was going to tell the children. Sara and Bobby idolised Owen, and they would be devastated to learn they wouldn’t be seeing him again. At least she hoped they wouldn’t. When she had told him to go, she didn’t just mean out of the cafe: she meant out of Foxmore. Life would be impossible if he stayed. She would be terrified of bumping into him around every corner, and then there was the Christmas Fayre… Oh God, theFayre!

It’s all right, she told herself,everything is under control. There was hardly anything more to be done, and what was left could be split between her and Kelly. The two of them could do this on their own. They didn’t need Owen.

She waited for Pen to go back out into the cafe, then Harriet went to the loo to splash some water on her face. The expression in the eyes looking back at her from the tiny mirror above the sink made her want to weep. She looked broken.

Which was exactly how she felt.

Owen stumbled back to the field, tripping over his own feet in his haste to return to his van, stow everything away and get on the road.

He had to leave Foxmorenow– he didn’t want to stay there a second longer than he needed to.

With shaking hands, he unlocked the van door and fell inside, dropping heavily to his knees. This couldn’t be happening. He’d thought Harriet loved him, but she hadn’t even wanted to hear his side of the story.

Who was he kidding?He didn’t have a leg to stand on. Because of his actions, he had lost her trust and her love.

This was his fault – he shouldn’t expect her to hear him out. Why should she? Because in a way she was right. Hehadused her. But only at the very beginning, when she hadn’t meant any more to him than a blog post and a boost in readership. That he had written it with the best intentions was neither here nor there. He had known at the time that not asking her permission, or at least not telling her about it, was underhand, but it hadn’t mattered then because he hadn’t been in love with her.

He should never have fallen in love. He wasn’t cut out for it. He had lived a perfectly happy and contented life without the complications that being in love brought.

And now look at him – he didn’t know if he would ever recover from this. His heart was broken and he’d never felt pain like it. He wanted to wail his anguish, howl his loss and rage at his stupidity. But he did none of those things.

With grim despair, he steadily gathered up and packed away everything that couldn’t be unsecured when he was on the road, going through the familiar motions on autopilot. He wished he could gather up his memories of Harriet as easily and stow them in a box in his mind, so he would never have to think of her again. Because he had an awful feeling that his hurt would take a long time to fade, and his broken heart would take a long time to heal. If it ever did.

But the worst thing was – he only had himself to blame.

Chapter 21

‘You’ve lost weight.’ Pen wasn’t being complimentary. Her gaze was disapproving as she scanned Harriet from neck to knees.

‘At least something good has come out of this last week.’ Harriet hastily popped her apron over her head and tied it at the waist. ‘I need to lose some ballast before the stuff-your-face season starts. My mam cooks enough veg and roasties to feed the street, and expectsmeto eat most of it because she’s “watching her figure”.’

Pen said, ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll fade away.’

‘I highly doubt that.’

‘Have you heard from him?’

‘No, Pen, I haven’t. I keep telling you that it’s over, so there’s no need to ask me the same question every single day.’

‘Sorry,’ Pen muttered.

Harriet’s mouth twisted. ‘It’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on you.’

‘You’re suffering from more than a bad mood. You’ve got a broken heart.’

‘That’s as may be, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’

‘You could try talking to him. I know Owen was a tit for doing what he did, but I’ve read his blog – he started writing about your challenge before you and he got jiggy.’

‘Gotjiggy?’ Harriet rolled her sore, red eyes. At least Pen hadn’t suggested she wore dark glasses to hide them. ‘OK, let’s say I forgive him for thatoversight,’ she exaggerated the word. ‘He should have told me when it became clear we were becoming more than friends. There is only one reason I can think of for him not saying anything – he didn’t care about me. I was just a blog post and a pair of willing arms.’

‘Tosh! Anyone could see he was head over heels about you. AndIcan think of a reason – he left it too late. I reckon that by the time he realised he should have told you about the blog, he was in too deep to explain it away.’

‘Huh! The more likely explanation is that he thought I’d never find out. Why else would he ask Rowena not to say anything?’

‘I still think you should speak to him. Look at you! You’re a mess.’

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