Page 47 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
He cleared his throat. ‘I mean …’
‘I’m just here.’ She gestured to her front door, wondering if her cheeks were as pink as his.
‘I know that,’ Harry murmured. Batter Days was in darkness, but Sophie could see a faint glow in the back, couldmake out the shadowy figures of Simon and Jason moving about in the far room.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for coming tonight, and for walking me home. And will you at least think about what I’ve said?’
‘I’ll think about it, but …’ He turned away, looking in the direction of the darkened sea.
‘What is it?’ She touched his chin gently, bringing him back to face her. ‘I’m right here, in front of you. You can tell me anything you want to.’
‘I’m trying not to.’
‘Why not?’
He reached up and tucked a chunk of her hair behind her ear. ‘Because if I do, this whole situation might run away with us.’
‘Run away?’ Sophie whispered.
He was closer now, his eyes like miniature galaxies, black holes in the middle, swallowing the light. ‘I’m going to go now.’
‘Probably wise,’ she murmured, every bit of her wishing he would stay. She could take hold of his collar or his belt or his arms, slide her hands behind his neck. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Fair to who?’ he whispered, frowning.
She shook her head. ‘Night, Harry. Thanks for coming to the pub.’
‘Thanks for inviting me.’ He turned away from her, shoving one hand in his pocket as he strode away, the other wielding the torch, ready to turn it on when he was beyond the reach of the streetlights. Then he stopped, turned abruptly, and called out to her: ‘I’ve thought about it, and you’re right.’
‘About what?’
‘The festival. The green. The bloody oak tree!’
Sophie’s heart thudded. Had she misheard? Was she going mad? Had that been vodka in her glass, after all? ‘You mean we can do the festival on the green, instead of the street?’
‘Yes! Let’s do it – let’s not wait for the perfect moment, but enjoy it all right now.’ He grinned, then waved and turned away, leaving her stunned and confounded and – after a moment – elated, on her doorstep.
She had changed Harry’s mind. She’d invited him to the pub, got him to open up and now,now,the villagers could have the festival they really wanted. It would be a fitting end to her time in Mistingham – she could disappear to Cornwall, leaving them all on a high.
With a grin mirroring Harry’s, Sophie unlocked the door of her flat and went inside.
Chapter Fifteen
When Sophie climbed into Harry’s Land Rover on Monday afternoon, the heater was blowing gently through the vents and the leather seat hugged her perfectly, and she knew that if she wasn’t careful she would fall asleep. She had messaged him yesterday, still on a high from Saturday night, and wanting to get the ball rolling before he got cold feet. Buying lights to thread through the oak tree’s branches was a good first step, and Harry said he knew exactly where they could go.
‘OK?’ he asked. He was wearing a cotton shirt, navy with a thin red check, and his usual dark jeans. Sophie shifted in her seat and got a waft of aftershave, something surprisingly vanilla-ish, even if there was a darker, woody scent beneath.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Good, even.’
‘Good, even?’ Harry repeated, amused. ‘Something to be celebrated, then.’
‘I’m excited about the festival – about having it on the green.’
‘Yes. Well,’ he grumbled.
Sophie grinned. ‘You know it’s the right decision. I can’t wait to tell everyone.’
‘You haven’t told Fiona and Ermin?’
