Page 83 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
‘Give me a job, and it’ll only take two.’
They finished clearing up together, then Sophie went round and switched all the lights off.
‘Hello, Harry.’ She heard Fiona greeting him at the main door. ‘And your lovely dogs. What are they called again?’
Sophie paused, could hear the reluctance in his voice as he told them, then Jazz’s high laughter as it reached near hysteria.
‘Darkness and Terror!’ she screeched, and Sophie grinned to herself.
Outside, she locked the door and handed the key to Ermin. Jazz was leaning on Fiona’s shoulder, her whole body shaking.
Harry gave Sophie a pained look, and she wrapped her arms around him.
‘Darkness and Terror,’ Jazz said again, her voice muffled, and the two dogs, which Harry had tied up outside along with Clifton, looked up at her.
‘They’re very stately dogs,’ Sophie said soothingly.
‘Thank you for trying to rescue the situation.’ Harry slipped an arm around her waist.
‘Right. We’ll be off, then,’ Fiona said. ‘See you in the shop tomorrow, Sophie?’
‘Of course.’ She swallowed. Her friend still sounded chilly, and she knew she needed to rebuild that bridge as soon as possible.
‘Cheerio,’ Ermin said.
‘Bye Harry, Sophie.’ Jazz’s eyes were glittering. ‘Bye Clifton. Bye,Darkness and Terror.’
The two larger dogs surged forward, accepting strokes and licking Jazz’s palms, oblivious to the fuss their names had caused. Then Fiona, Ermin and Jazz strode off in the direction of home, and Harry, Sophie and the dogs turned towards the manor, walking on roads slippery with frost, the air so cold it felt like icy breaths against Sophie’s skin.
Their footsteps echoed in the quiet, and a tawny owl hooted from somewhere close by. If she really concentrated, she could hear the shush of the sea, and she wondered how many fishermen’s lights were dotting the invisible horizon, dark sky bleeding into dark water.
‘What do you need to tell me?’ Harry asked eventually.
Sophie’s sigh turned to mist in front of her. Could she do it? It would mean no going back, relinquishing some of her control.
‘Soph?’ Harry prompted. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m good,’ she said. ‘Relieved how well tonight has gone, that people are embracing our new and improved festival. We have a lot of handmade decorations already, and there’s still over a week to go.’
‘You must be tired,’ Harry said. ‘Working all day, making more stock, and now you’ll be spending your evenings in the hall, as well as finalizing things for next week.’
‘You’ve been in London,’ Sophie pointed out. ‘You’re not exactly putting your feet up.’ She stopped, facing him. ‘I’m glad I get to see you now, though. That I’m not going home to my flat, alone.’ The word hung in the air between them, the moonlight fractured by the trees overhead. She couldonly see Harry’s features in patches, but she knew he was looking at her, perhaps trying to read her expression.
‘I’m glad you’re here too,’ he said. ‘Actually, let’s take it up a couple of notches from glad.’ He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear, gusting warmth onto her chilled flesh. ‘I am delighted you’re here. Want me to show you how much?’
‘When we’re inside in the warm, if that’s OK?’
‘Come on, then.’ He picked up his pace and Sophie hurried to keep up with him, the dogs barking into the darkness, thinking it was a game.
He’d lit a fire in his room. It was a much smaller fireplace, more modern than the huge caverns on the ground floor, but the glow and crackle were instantly soothing, shadows dancing across the walls.
Harry stood in the firelight, his smart blue shirt showing off his lean torso. Sophie shivered and put her bag on the floor under the window. When she opened it to take out her phone, she sawJane Eyrenestled inside, the talking point of tonight’s book club chat. She’d left the brown paper at home, so its beautiful cloth cover was visible, the gold foil details dulled in the shadowy interior of her handbag.
‘Soph?’ Harry came up behind her and slid his hands down her arms. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ He bent his head, kissed the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.
She leaned into him. This was what she wanted. His touch and the low rumble of his voice settling over her like a blanket, turning her into heat and sensation, obliterating all other thoughts. ‘I am now.’
He put his chin on her shoulder, his hands on her waist. ‘Can you tell me …?’ He stopped, his grip tightening, hisbody frozen behind hers. It lasted a second, maybe less, then he softened, and she heard him swallow. ‘Can you tell me what you and Jazz were talking about?’ he said, but he sounded different. Flatter, somehow.
