Page 97 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘You’ve got to do better than that. That’s not an answer. You know I’ll keep on at you until you tell me.’

Owen knew, but all he needed to do was to hold out for another two weeks, and then Christmas would all be over and he could get back on the road again. He was tempted to hop in his van and drive off now, but that would be churlish. Besides, he had nowhere he wanted to be – aside from Foxmore, and that was impossible – and he had already told his parents he was staying with them until the New Year, so it wouldn’t be fair to change his mind now.

Owen squared his jaw. He might as well tell her now, before she eventually wore him down with her nagging.

‘Her name is Harriet, and I did something silly,’ he began.

Before he could continue, his mother jumped in with, ‘Owen, you didn’t cheat on her, did you?’

‘No, I did not. I did betray her trust, though…’ And he went on to explain how the two of them had met, and how he had decided to write a series of blog posts on the back of a challenge he had set her, and how he had kept it from her. To the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth, and with the afternoon darkening around them, he told his mother that he had fallen in love, and that he’d believed Harriet loved him, although neither of them had said it in so many words. His mother’s face was full of sympathy when he told her how his world had come crashing down around his ears when Harriet had found out what he had done.

‘She told me to leave,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t want to see me ever again and I don’t blame her.’

‘I’m sure she’ll come round when she’s had a chance to think about it,’ his mother said. ‘I’m assuming you didn’t post anything horrible or derogatory about her?’

Owen was shocked. ‘I’d never do that to anyone, especially someone I love.’

‘There you go, then,’ she said. ‘She probably needs a bit of time. It’s been a week; why don’t you give her a call?’

‘She’s got my number if she wants me,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to make a nuisance of myself by phoning her.’

His mother tutted. ‘Young love,’ she muttered.

‘We’re hardly young,’ Owen objected. ‘I’m forty-one, and she’s only four years younger.’

‘When you’ve been together as long as me and your father, any relationship that has been going for less than twenty years is young love. It takes that long to break them in.’

Owen was bemused. ‘Break what in?’

‘Not what,who. I’m talking about husbands. But I dare say, it applies to wives, too. Me and your father had some ding-dongs, I can tell you. I left him once, you know.’

‘No, I didn’t. What happened?’

‘I felt unloved and unappreciated,’ his mother declared.

‘But Dad loves you to bits! Anyone can see that.’

‘I couldn’t. He needed to tell me. Perhaps that’s what you need to do with your young lady. Think about it.’ She got up and patted him on the shoulder as she left. ‘Don’t forget that wood,’ she reminded him. ‘You can chop it in the morning.’

‘I won’t forget,’ he called after her, then he thought about what she’d said. Perhaps he should have told Harriet he loved her. But would it have made any difference?

He didn’t know, and it was too late now. He had burnt his bridges and there was no way he was ever going to be able to rebuild them.

Harriet gazed out of the window on Saturday evening and her heart sank. Oh shoot, that was all they needed – blimmin’ snow! The children were ecstatic as they watched the fat flakes drift lazily down from a laden sky, and they were already hunting around for wellies, hats and scarves, even though the white stuff wasn’t sticking yet. But Harriet wasn’t as pleased to see it.

‘Have we got any carrots?’ Bobby wanted to know.

Harriet guessed he wasn’t asking because he was hungry. ‘We have,’ she said, ‘but don’t get your hopes up, it’s not sticking. See?’ She pointed out of the window, and the children hurried over to it and peered outside.

‘It’s all over the cars and there’s some on the grass,’ Bobby said.

‘Not enough to make a snowman,’ Harriet told him, hoping it would stay that way. ‘Anyway, it’s getting dark, so you won’t be able to go out and play in it until tomorrow.’

She found her phone and dialled Kelly’s number. ‘Have you seen the weather?’ she asked. ‘I hope it doesn’t stick.’

‘It isn’t at the moment,’ Kelly said, ‘but it might once the temperature drops later on.’

‘Great, that’s all we need.’

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