Page 66 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
‘You make it sound like I’ve been in a coma,’ Harry said with a smile.
Simon laughed nervously. ‘I just meant that it’s great to see you.’
‘I knew what you meant,’ Harry grinned. ‘It’s good to see you too. I’m giving Sophie the full Mistingham experience, and we’re starting with your fish and chips.’
Simon looked mystified. ‘Haven’t you been here nearly a year, Sophie?’
‘I have,’ she said, smiling.
‘And you live right above here.’ He pointed to the ceiling.
‘Everyone needs an evening at the seaside now and then.’ Harry rested his forearms on the glass counter.
‘A cold, misty evening in December?’ Simon shovelled chips into cardboard trays, selected crispy pieces of cod and placed them on top.
‘Mistingham’s great all year round,’ Harry said mildly. ‘You know that, Simon.’
‘Of course! I just—’
‘Ignore him.’ Sophie squeezed Harry’s arm. ‘He’s teasing you, which I know is an unlikely prospect, but—’
‘Hey,’ Harry said with a laugh. ‘Sorry, Simon – she’s right. Ignore me.’
‘Oh no, that’s fine,’ Simon said. ‘Do you want salt? Vinegar?’
They both answered in the affirmative.
‘Shall we eat these in my flat?’ Sophie asked, once Harry had paid, they’d thanked a bewildered Simon and were back outside.
‘That’s not what we’d do if we were visiting Mistingham for a perfect evening out.’
‘Where, then? I don’t think the village hall is open.’
‘The sea wall,’ Harry said.
‘It’ll be freezing!’
‘We’ll huddle together for warmth.’ He was undeterred, and Sophie could do nothing but follow him.
She hadn’t seen anything more befitting a ghost story than Mistingham seafront shrouded in fog. The waves beat their steady rhythm against the sand, and through the dense swirls she could see the white foam of the breakers, luminous against the impenetrable black water. Along the promenade, the streetlights were quaintly old-fashioned, like something out of a Dickens novel.
‘Here.’ Harry patted the concrete wall, then winced.
‘Is it as cold as it looks?’
‘You can sit on my coat.’ He started to take it off, and Sophie put a hand on his shoulder.
‘We’ll soon warm up.’ She sat down, and the cold seeped instantly through her jeans. Harry sat next to her, and she felt, rather than heard, him sigh.
‘I have a sneaking suspicion that this was a stupid idea.’
‘Not true.’ Sophie unwrapped the parcels from Batter Days and handed him one, along with a wooden fork. ‘Fish and chips is never a bad idea.’ She bit into the first chip, and it was delicious. A slight crunch on the outside, fluffy in the middle, the sharpness of the vinegar that went so well with the salt-fresh air, the heat of the parcel on herknees contrasting with the cold of their chosen pew. ‘This is … actually perfect.’ She laughed.
‘It is?’
‘It’s delicious,’ Sophie said. ‘And I look out of my window at the nothingness of the sea when it’s dark, but it’s so different being right next to it.’
‘From my bedroom windows, I can see lights on the horizon – fishing trawlers or container ships – and I wonder what it would be like to be out there, in the middle of somewhere so vast and unknowable, so dark. How aren’t they terrified?’
