Page 40 of All We Want for Christmas
‘Actually, I wasn’t joking, but I can see you’re not keen.’ Lara hung the jester’s costume back on the rail with a secret smile. She’d guessed it was a long shot but it had been worth a try, and she’d wanted to see his face.
‘I know but …’ Half the costumes she’d selected had already been pushed to the end of the rail. So far, not one ofthem had even made it out of her hands. Flynn had scoffed, sworn, and laughed at all six.
‘Why don’t you come and have a look?’
‘I have. There doesn’t seem to be much choice.’
‘These are the only ones I thought were remotely suitable. Half are female costumes, and while you’re very welcome to wear one of those, they’re almost certainly too small. There’s also a bear, which I did think was very appropriate, but that you wouldn’t even consider.’
His eyebrows knitted together. ‘Are you trying to say I’m grumpy and scary?’
‘Well, you’re definitely not cuddly.’
He let out a growl and made a clawing motion. ‘Grrrr.’
‘And three of the others that might have done have codpieces,’ she said, stifling her giggles.
Flynn curled his lip in contempt like a pirate – Blackbeard, say.
Lara felt a lightbulb go off in her head and broke into a grin.
‘What?’ Flynn asked, unearthing a pair of curly-toed slippers from a box on the floor and pulling a face.
‘Just an idea. I’m not sure it would work, though …’
He dropped the slippers back in the box.
‘There is something else I found in the costume cupboard but I didn’t bring it out.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, I thought it was a bit of a cliché, but the main thing is, it’s almost certainly too small. I suppose we could do something about that if we’re desperate.’
‘If it’s not a wild animal and doesn’t come with breeches or jingly bells, I’m willing to try it.’
‘Well, it does have breeches, technically.’
Flynn opened his mouth to object, but Lara held up her hand.
‘Please can you keep an open mind? I’ll fetch it. Otherwise, I’m out of ideas and I’m afraid you’re going to have to resort to the fancy-dress shop. And at this late stage, good luck with that.’
‘So, what do you think?’ Lara asked the question as nonchalantly as she could, because Flynn had actually taken the costume out of her hands and was examining it. So far he’d refused to even touch anything, so this was progress.
After a few seconds, he uttered the momentous words. ‘It’s – er – I suppose it’s not quite as bad as the others.’
With an inner punch of the air, Lara carried on casually. ‘It’s more a bit of fun than historical. I don’t really know why it’s here, because I’ve never seen any of the guides wearing it.’
‘Wasn’t Dick Turpin a historical figure?’ Flynn asked, slipping the eighteenth-century-style frock coat off the hanger. ‘Or was he made up?’
The black coat, made of wool felt, had a short cape attached. Lara had kept back a fabric bag containing the accessories. He needed time to come to terms with the coat first.
‘Oh, Turpin was real enough. He was a horse thief and a burglar and, unfortunately, he killed at least one man, although his exploits have been wildly romanticised since.’
Flynn didn’t seem put off and inserted his arm through the sleeve. This was progress.
‘You see, I wondered if you really wanted to be associated with a highwayman. And Turpin has nothing to do with Ravendale. You could just be a general highwayman, the kind that probably did lurk up on the fells waiting to ambush travellers in the eighteenth century.’
Flynn grunted a reply, busy trying to put his other arm through the other sleeve. He managed to get the coat on but it was obviously too tight across the shoulders.
