Page 6 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
Birdie was Mistingham’s well-loved grandmother figure. She grew vegetables and flowers in her cottage garden, and gave them out liberally to residents, sometimes in the form of suspicious concoctions that intrigued and alarmed Sophie in equal measure. She also knitted jumpers for Felix.
‘If Harry’s such a cold fish,’ Sophie said to Felix, ‘how come he dresses you in these adorable pullovers? Fiona would give her right hand to have a range of these in the shop; Birdie could be making a fortune.’
Felix accepted a vigorous stroke behind the ears, his bleats gentle and constant, then Sophie stepped away, taking her dog with her. ‘Sorry, guys. The light’s already fading, and we don’t want to be out here in the dark.’
She decided they would go as far as the lookout point, where a bench was precariously positioned on top of the cliff, alongside a fixed telescope, then turn around. The sea was no longer reflecting the sun in silver fragments, and the temperature was dropping sharply.
She was feet away from her turning point, her eyes on the uneven ground, when a loudthumpmade her jump for a second time. ‘Bloody hell!’ she shrieked, then tried not to full-on scream when a low voice said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’
She spun towards the parkland and saw a shadowy figure, a glowing spotlight trained on one of the fence posts. ‘I didn’t see you either,’ she said, peering through the gloom. For a moment, she thought it was a gardener or workman, but she’d seen him twice recently and she recognized his broad shoulders and his voice. They’d had a very similar interaction outside the shop.
‘Obviously you didn’t see me.’ His reply was slightly breathless. ‘Recent experience has taught me thatbloody hellisn’t your standard greeting. Though who am I to judge? Greet people however you like.’ He whacked the fence post again, arms raised high above his head before he swung the hammer down with power. Sophie felt the vibration through her boots.
‘Is that a good idea, particularly?’ she asked. ‘Considering it’s nearly dark.’
‘About as good an idea as walking along an unfenced clifftop in the same conditions.’
Sophie bristled.
‘Also, if I don’t fix this now, then Felix will get out, and probably Ter … my dogs, too. Does your walk have such an urgent purpose?’
Sophie shook her head, though she doubted he’d seen it. ‘Clifton needed his evening walk, and it’s got dark a lot more quickly than I expected.’
‘Winter does that,’ Harry said, still not looking up. Hebrought the hammer down on the post with another decisive thwack, and Sophie was surprised the wood didn’t splinter in two. He stared at his fence post. ‘That should stop any escape artists.’
‘You said you had dogs?’
‘Two retrievers. They’re around here somewhere.’
Sophie lifted her own dog into her arms and said, ‘This is Clifton.’
Harry stood up straight and, to Sophie’s surprise, ruffled the dog’s fur. It was the first time she’d seen him anything other than irritated. Clifton, of course, decided Harry was his new best friend, and pushed his wet nose, then his tongue, into Harry’s palm. Sophie wished she could see his face properly, see if her pet had made him lose that chink of ice in his eyes.
‘Why Clifton?’ Harry asked.
‘Because I found him, bedraggled and abandoned, under the Clifton Suspension Bridge when I was living in Bristol.’
‘You rescued him.’
Sophie nodded. They were two strays; two lost souls finding each other. ‘What about your dogs?’
‘What about them?’ Harry turned his head, as if something had caught his attention behind her. Was it a sea monster? Something horrendous coming up out of the waves? It was disconcerting, the gathering gloom, and Sophie realized she had been foolish to attempt this walk so late in the afternoon.
‘What are they called, to start with?’ she asked. This man was patently incapable of making small talk.
Harry dropped his hand from Clifton’s head and glancedbehind him, as if hoping someone would step out of the shadows and save him from this line of questioning.
‘Harry?’ Sophie prompted. ‘That is … can I call you – would you prefer Mr Anderly?’
‘Definitely not,’ Harry said sharply. He picked up his torch. ‘My dogs are called Darkness and Terror.’
Sophie leaned forward, almost upending herself over the fence. ‘I’m sorry?’ She could feel laughter bubbling up in her chest, the ridiculousness of the names combined with shock that he’d admitted it to her.
Harry huffed out a breath. ‘Darkness and Terror,’ he said again. ‘Darkness is a black retriever, Terror is golden. May suggested the names when I got them – as a joke, obviously. She said I should give them names that were appropriate for the Dark Demon Lord of Mistingham that I was clearly trying to become, so – out of spite – I did. At first I refused to back down, and then, by the time I was ready to give them proper names, the dogs had got used to Darkness and Terror, so …’ He raised the torch in a one-armed shrug. ‘Serves me right.’
Sophie had held in her laughter, and now she felt a twist of unexpected empathy for him, because she knew what it was like to feel like an outcast. But it was a story that deserved a comeback, so she said, ‘TheDark Demon Lord of Mistingham? I’m going to slip that name into conversation with Fiona, see how long it takes for it to get round the village.’
‘Please don’t,’ Harry said in a pained voice. ‘Look, it’s basically dark now, and you’ve ended up on the cliffs with no light source whatsoever. Didn’t you bring a torch?’
