Page 99 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Blimey, give the man a gold star. What did you think I was talking about? You deserve to be there as much as Harriet and Kelly. This Fayre is only taking place because of you, so you should be there anyway, if you ask me. What do you say?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Let me put it another way: if you don’t come back and tell Harriet you love her, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

Yes, Owen thought,I probably will, and with that, he made a decision. He would return to Foxmore tonight, to be there in the morning when the Fayre began.

However, when he hurried to tell his mother he was leaving, she wordlessly pointed to the window and his spirits sank. There was already a thick covering of snow on the ground, and more was falling. He would be lucky if he made it out of Narberth at this rate, and his chances of getting to Foxmore in time for the Fayre were next to nothing.

Chapter 22

It’s a nice day for it, Harriet thought, as she opened the curtains and gazed out into the street. It was still dark at seven a.m. on this December Sunday morning, but there was no wind and the stars were visible in a cloudless sky. It promised to be cold and bright, a perfect day for a Christmas Fayre. A light smattering of snow lay on the grass, but not enough to construct a snowman, and the road and pavements were clear.

As they always did, her thoughts turned to Owen, and she wondered what he was doing right now. Would he remember that today was the day of the Christmas Fayre? Or would he have already forgotten all about Foxmore, and her?

Last night as she’d lain in bed, restless and sleepless, she had looked at his website and had been surprised there were no further posts. She had expected him to publish at least another one to end the challenge, but he’d written nothing new.

She’d told herself she shouldn’t look, that it wasn’t doing her any good, but she couldn’t help herself. Neither could she help scrolling through the photos on her phone, and as she did so, she ignored the irony. She had been just as guilty of taking photos of him without his permission, but the difference was that she’d not posted them online for the whole world to see. She had also taken several with his knowledge, both on his own and with the kids, and she studied each one in turn, tears welling up to spill down her face, her heart aching.

‘Stop this!’ she groaned out loud, and felt a wet nose on her leg. ‘Not you, Etta; as far as I know, you’ve not done anything wrong.’

Harriet had taken to letting the dog sleep on her bed, needing the comfort of Etta’s unconditional love – and more than once over the past week, she had woken to find her nose buried in the sleek fur of the dog’s neck and tears on her cheeks.

With a sigh, she closed the curtains again and headed for the shower. Pen was right: shedidlook a fright, so she had better try to make herself more presentable, or less like the walking dead at least, so a hair wash and a liberal layer of makeup were called for.

Holly Field was already busy when Harriet arrived, and she did a double-take. It was only nine thirty, and the Fayre wasn’t due to kick off until eleven. On Kelly’s advice, they had deliberately timed it not to open earlier. She had suggested that if people arrived mid- to late morning, they would be more likely to be hungry, so the food stalls and stands should do well. Besides, who wanted to get up at the crack of dawn to tramp around a cold field? Better to let people have a leisurely morning, then they would be more inclined to bundle up and leave their houses.

Stallholders were already setting up, and there was a heady scent of coffee and roasting chestnuts in the air, along with a mouth-watering smell of pulled pork and fried onions.

‘Harriet! Over here!’ Kelly was standing in front of a trailer called The Coffee Hut, and she was waving frantically.

As Harriet grew nearer, she saw that her friend was clutching two steaming cups and she increased her pace. Coffee would be very welcome right now, although despite the wonderful foody smells and not having bothered with breakfast this morning, she didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. Maybe Pen was right, and she was wasting away.

Telling herself there would be plenty of opportunities to pile on the pounds when the Fayre was over, Harriet wrapped her mittened hands around the cup Kelly was holding out to her and gratefully took a sip. It was spiced with caramel and something else… ‘Is there Baileys Irish Cream in this?’ she asked.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Kelly said, smacking her lips.

‘It’s a bit early to start on the booze.’

‘Give over, there’s hardly enough in there to get a fly tipsy! Wait until the mulled wine starts flowing.’

‘I take it you won’t be doing much in the way of childcare today?’ Harriet laughed. The coffee really was delicious and rather moreish.

‘Jon is looking after them, but he’ll be bringing them along later. How about you?’

‘Mam and Dad are minding Sara and Bobby. They’ll bring them later, too.’ Harriet stamped her feet to try to bring some warmth into them. Despite wearing chunky boots and two pairs of thick socks, the cold was making its presence felt. The upside was that with the ground being frozen there wouldn’t be any risk of tyres getting bogged down in the field, which had been one of her concerns, since Owen was no longer here to use the tractor to drag any stuck vehicles free.

‘I feel as though we should be doing something,’ Kelly said.

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. But the three of us have been running around like headless chickens for so long, I feel at a loose end.’ She was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Have you heard from Owen?’

‘No, and I don’t expect to.’ That was a fib, if she was honest; she’d been hoping that he thought enough of her to wish her luck today, but her phone had been utterly silent when it came to the man she was in love with.

Once again, pain flared in her chest and she swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Feeling at a bit of a loose end herself, Harriet suggested she and Kelly wander around to make sure there weren’t any issues, and that there weren’t any traders on site selling brand-new items. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do if she found any, but she would probably leave that up to Kelly, who was far more frank than Harriet and would soon tell them to sling their hooks.

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