Page 10 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘I’m fine.’ Her gaze snagged on a lime-green notebook with hot pink edges, a matching pen attached with an elastic holder. ‘That one’s lovely.’
‘It’s one of my new ones,’ Sophie said. ‘But if you wanted a different colour combination, I could do that too.’ She glanced at the other woman, who was frowning. ‘I’m sure I could fitoneextra one in before the wedding, May.’
‘You need to enjoy it,’ the brown-haired woman, May, replied. ‘You don’t want to end up being too stressed, too tied up doing things for other people, to relish the run-up to your own wedding. You’re getting married to Harry, who you adore.’
Sophie’s smile lit up her whole face, her love for her fiancé clear, and Imogen’s stomach clenched unpleasantly.
‘I think I’d better …’ she edged towards the door, craving the cold, fresh air.
‘Sorry.’ Sophie’s smile slipped. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Keep browsing if you want to – ignore us. It’s just hardnotto talk about it, even in front of customers. I never thought this would be me – the blushing bride.’ She laughed.
Imogen tried a smile. ‘I’m really happy for you. Congratulations.’
‘You’ve gone pale,’ May said, a neat furrow appearing between her brows. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
‘Oh no, I’ll just … I’ll come back later.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Sophie said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Imogen closed her eyes for a second. Her first foray into Mistingham, and she’d already offended someone. ‘You haven’t at all,’ she said. ‘I’msorry. It’s just that …’ She knew that any gossip made its way swiftly around the Mistingham locals, and her appearance on Friday hadn’t exactly been low-key. ‘I ran away from my wedding.’
The words were met with a beat of deathly silence, then May said, ‘Youdid?’
‘Yup. On Friday – two days ago.’ She took a breath, had another go at a smile. ‘I’m Birdie’s granddaughter, Imogen. When I ran away from the church, she was the only person I wanted to see, and this seemed like a good place to hide.’
‘Goodness,’ Sophie said. ‘That can’t have been easy. But Birdie’s wonderful, I’m sure she’ll look after you, and it’s lovely to meet a relative of hers. I’m Sophie, and this is May.’
May gave her a little wave.
‘It’s good to meet you,’ Imogen said. ‘And I really don’t mean to put a dampener on your wedding excitement.’ She sighed. ‘Lucy and Artichoke found me, just outside thestation when I got here, and Dexter drove me to Birdie’s. They were both so kind, but I’m not naive enough to think word won’t get around that I pitched up here in a wedding dress on Halloween.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Sophie said. ‘Mistingham does a great line in gossip, but most of the people here have good intentions and kind hearts.’
‘I live with Sophie and Harry in Mistingham Manor,’ May said, ‘and you can just imagine what sort of talk that resulted in. But people move on, they find something else to focus on.’
‘You’re Harry’s best friend, you were living with him before I moved in, and you’re insisting on moving out after the wedding,’ Sophie said. She turned to Imogen. ‘Basically, don’t worry what anyone else says. Focus on what you need, which is some TLC from the sound of things.’
Imogen nodded. ‘I feel completely at sea. And it’s such a small thing, but I thought a new notebook would help. Somewhere I can make sense of everything that’s happened.’
‘Sophie advocates for that wholeheartedly,’ May said. ‘And if you want any distractions, there’s a lot going on here in the run-up to Christmas – besides Sophie and Harry’s wedding.’
‘There’s usually the Christmas Oak Fest,’ Sophie said, ‘but this year the long-term forecast issobad for late December, so we’re having a rethink about how we’re going to celebrate. Whatever we end up with, it’ll need a lot of people to help organize it.’
‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be here yet,’ Imogen admitted. ‘But I’d love to know more about your wedding, Sophie.’ She still agreed wholeheartedly in people gettingmarried if they loved each other; if they were feeling entirely positive about it. She just knew that hers hadn’t been right, and it was nobody’s fault but her own that she’d got so close to saying ‘yes’ to the wrong man. She didn’t want these women, who had already been so kind, to avoid her while she was here because they felt awkward around her. ‘Tell me all about it while I pay for my notebook, and I’d love the matching pen, too.’
Sophie and May’s smiles widened, and Imogen felt the familiar pleasure of having made people’s lives easier. That was what she was best at, and she was sure she could find her way back to it, once she’d worked out how to deal with the fallout from the last few, horrifying days.
Chapter Five
With her goodies from Sophie’s stationery shop in a posh paper bag, Imogen walked down the main road, charmingly called Perpendicular Street, towards the sea. It was visible between the buildings, a thin slice of grey that held a hundred different shades of blue and green, the play of the November sun on the water making the colours shift like there were fish beneath the surface.
North Norfolk had always felt wholly Birdie’s, and Imogen was glad she was getting a chance to explore it, even if she’d escaped her own wedding only to walk straight into the planning stages of someone else’s. May and Sophie seemed like Imogen’s kind of people, and she hoped the awkwardness of her situation wouldn’t get in the way if they ended up spending time together.
She walked past Hartley Country Apparel, the window displays promising layers of cosiness, country walks and roaring fires. She tried not to let the delectable whiff of Batter Days entice her, or the lure of the machines dragher into the arcade, Penny For Them. It was the sea she wanted.
She stopped on the seafront, the golden sand ahead of her, then the grey-blue sea, the waves small, the wind sharp but not gusting. She snuggled more deeply into Birdie’s ludicrous coat and watched seagulls soaring, a man pounding along the sand in time with his dog’s lolloping run, splattered wellies on over jeans. She had forgotten how freeing it was to have nothing but the sea ahead of you, no computer screens or fancy dinners or weddings to worry about.
Sighing, Imogen walked along the seafront, then took the lane that would lead her onto the cliff path. Her breaths puffed out as she tackled the incline, her feet slipping in Birdie’s walking boots despite her two pairs of socks. She reached a fenced-off area, parkland stretching away from the sea, and it spiked her curiosity. She didn’t remember this from her previous visits, but maybe she’d never explored this far. A little way along she saw a flash of colour amongst the muted winter tones, and as she got closer she realized the colour was attached to an animal, and that the animal was a goat. A goat in a knitted jumper, blue with yellow fish swimming across it.
‘This is Birdie’s,’ she said, and the goat bleated in response. ‘I promise you, my grandmother knitted your jumper. As a proud recipient of dozens of knitted items over the years – jumpers and cardigans, hats and scarves – I pride myself on being an authority.’
