Page 57 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Hi, Lucy. So do you. I like your uniform.’ It was a smart navy pinafore dress with a jumper over the top – also navy – her white shirt showing at the collar. She had her large puffa coat open over the top, and Artichoke at her feet in a luminous pink harness.
Lucy scrunched up her face. ‘I hate my uniform. I wish it was pink like Artichoke’s.’
‘That would be a lot better,’ Imogen agreed. Her hands were sweaty, so she shoved her phone into her pocket. How had she gravitated so close to the bakery in her quest to find a plain background? Was her subconscious leading her there? If so, she needed to have a word with it.
‘Who are you taking a picture for?’ Lucy held out a paper bag, and Imogen peered inside and saw mini doughnuts: little bonbons of fried dough and sugar. Her mouth watered, despite Birdie’s delicious lunch.
‘Thank you.’ She took one and popped it in her mouth. When she bit down, she discovered it had a gooey caramel filling. ‘Oh my God.’
‘It’s Dad’s new recipe,’ Lucy told her. ‘I’m only allowed one bag after school,ifI’ve finished my homework and Ipromise it won’t spoil my dinner. Now I can tell him I shared them with you and he’ll be happy.’
‘No!’ She hadn’t meant to shout, but she also didn’t want Dexter to know she’d been creeping outside his bakery.
‘Aren’t you meant to have doughnuts?’ Lucy frowned.‘It’s not just me that thinks you’re really pretty, I know Dad does too.’ Imogen’s heart fluttered like a frantic butterfly. ‘You know that prettiness has nothing to do with how many doughnuts you eat, don’t you, Lucy?’ It was hard to sound forthright, because she still remembered the wedding dress fitter’s scorn, the way it had stung.
Lucy nodded. ‘I do, but Cecily at school says boys like girls to be like willow trees, and that has something to do with doughnuts.’
Imogen felt a thud of dismay. She bent down, so she was on Lucy’s level. ‘Cecily is wrong. Boys don’t want girls to be like willow trees, they want them to be themselves; happy and healthy. Treats are important, and so are vegetables and getting out in the fresh air, OK?’
Lucy nodded, her eyes alight with interest.
‘Also, aren’t you too young to be thinking about boys? Scratch that, youaretoo young. Have you told your dad what Cecily said?’
‘I tell him everything Cecily says,’ Lucy announced. ‘And he says if it gets too much, or if I’m upset, then he’ll speak to the school. And I mostly ignore her, but it’s just that I like willow trees, especially weeping willows, so isn’t it good to try and be like them?’
‘Nope,’ Imogen said. ‘You can like a lot of things and not try and be the same as them. Sometimes the fact that they’re different is what makes them so attractive.’
‘Do you like my dad?’ Lucy held out her paper bag, and Imogen took another doughnut, planning to eat it incredibly slowly so she could delay her answer.
‘I think your dad is great,’ she said, when the second doughnut was gone and her fingers were dusted with sugar. ‘He’s been very kind to me, and we’re doing a scene for the Christmas event together, and … he’s a really good friend.’
Lucy nodded, her eyes on her feet. ‘He thinks you’re a really good friend too.’
‘Lucy, is everything OK?’
The girl looked up and nodded, and for a moment she seemed anxious, her mouth pinched, but then she smiled, all cares forgotten, and took off towards the bakery. ‘I’m going to tell Dad you shared my doughnuts!’ she shouted, and Imogen tipped her head back against the wall and groaned.
Had Dexter told her? She couldn’t imagine him confiding in his ten-year-old daughter about their kiss. But Lucy was astute, so maybe she’d picked up on something. This.Thiswas one of the many reasons why kissing Dexter was complicated, and yet Imogen kept being drawn back to the memory. She couldn’t help getting heated whenever she thought about it, or imagining what else might happen when they were alone, rehearsing.
She realized Dexter might come out of the bakery if Lucy told him they’d been talking, and she was too flustered to face him right now. She snapped a quick selfie, checked the background was featureless, and sent it to her mum with the caption:Proof of life. I am absolutely fine.She dawdled for a second, added,Lots of loveand a smiley face, and hurried back to Birdie’s.
Her Mum’s reply came moments later.Glad you’re OK, it read, which was effusive from her mum,but you’re looking a bit too happy for someone who has completely destroyed their life. Edmund is still beside himself. He hasn’t given up on getting you back. Mum.
Imogen’s breath caught. She knew why she looked so happy, and her mum’s message was another reason everything was such a tangle. Despite her conversation with Edmund, hestillwasn’t ready to move on? She swallowed, trying to push the panic back down. She was on borrowed time, and she didn’t think it was fair – not on him or Lucy, never mind her own feelings – to borrow Dexter too.
She was getting into bed that evening when her phone chimed from the bedside table. She had been about to pick upNorthanger Abbey, but she glanced at the screen, her pulse skittering when she saw who the message was from.
Dexter:Lucy said you were here earlier. Sorry, I was rushed off my feet. You OK?
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t come looking for her, so she didn’t have to admit she’d run away.
Imogen:Fine thanks. I was trying to find a blank background so I could send Mum a pic and prove I haven’t been abducted by nefarious criminals.
Dexter:She thinks all this decision-making couldn’t possibly be you?
Imogen:Haha, exactly! I’ve surprised her for the first time in 31 years. :)
Dexter:Keep doing it. Keep choosing what you want.
