Page 59 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Shall we go and get a proper gander?’ Ermin said, and Imogen’s pulse sped up. But when she looked over at High-Vis Man he was standing on his own, staring at his iPad, and Dexter had gone.
She met up with Winnie later that day.
The hotel was beautifully decorated for Christmas, a tree in the foyer shimmering with gold and silver decorations, an abundance of frosted tinsel, tall enough to be majestic. Imogen was nervous, she’d come armed with her polished CV, but Winnie was more focused on giving her a tour of the hub, showing her the cosy seating area, the four desks with desktop computers waiting patiently to be used.
‘We’ve got the community kitchen covered, so it’s this area we need support for,’ Winnie explained. ‘People come in wanting help with new email accounts, staying in touch with friends on Facebook. I have enough on my plate with the hotel, and Barbara, who manages the kitchen, doesn’t even have a mobile phone. I did speak to May, but she’s a tech wizard, coding and whatnot you know, so it’s not the best use of her time.’ She plucked Imogen’s list out of her hand and scanned it. ‘You’ll be brilliant. When can you start?’
Imogen spent a couple of seconds doing a fish impression, because she had expected more scrutiny, then gathered her wits and said, ‘Monday?’
‘Excellent, come in at ten o’clock. We’ve been promoting the hub as self-service, but if we can advertise the times you’ll be here – say two-hour sessions every other day – then if there’s anything specific people need help with, they know you’ll be on hand.’
‘It sounds perfect.’ Imogen surveyed the space. It was welcoming and functional, the desks clean and uncluttered, but she was already thinking about what she could add: notebooks and pens, Post-it notes, house plants for added calm. She could help with job applications, online shopping, social media; organizing people’s lives in small but crucial ways. She already knew it would be more fulfilling than her PA job. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, then.’ She and Winnie shook hands and, as she strolled back to Birdie’s, she saw that the ice rink was almost ready.
She had only been home half an hour when her gran called up the stairs again. ‘It’s open!’
Imogen didn’t need to be told twice this time. She was in her trusty jeans, the ones that she’d packed to wear on the plane to Mauritius, and one of her new jumpers, a deep plum colour, loosely fitted, so all she had to do was grab woolly socks, her green coat, and a hat and gloves.
‘You’ll break your neck on the stairs,’ Birdie said, as Imogen raced down them.
‘I’d rather do that on the ice.’
Birdie crossed her arms, but her eyes twinkled. ‘Meeting anyone there?’ If she was aiming for casual, she’d missed by a mile, but Imogen hadn’t been braveenough to speak to Dexter after their text exchange the night before.
‘I was just going to see who was about. Don’t you think the whole village will turn out?’
‘So you didn’t—’ Birdie was interrupted by a knock at the door, and went to answer it while Imogen pulled on her socks.
‘Artichoke isn’t allowed ice skating,’ said a voice that made Imogen smile, her breath catching when she saw Dexter standing behind Lucy, his hand on her shoulder.
‘They don’t make ice skates small enough for dogs,’ he said, ‘and she’s still a puppy. She’s just learning how to do normal things; you can’t throw ice skating at her on top of all that. Hi Birdie, Imogen.’
‘I would have carried her the whole way,’ Lucy protested. She was wearing a snowy white hat covered in sequins, and from the cold air filling the hallway, Imogen knew hats were necessary.
‘I cannot begin to tell you how much of a disaster that would have been,’ Dexter said. ‘Absolute carnage on the ice.’
‘All right then,’ Lucy said wearily. ‘Anyway, Artichoke wasn’t allowed to come, so I asked if we could take you instead, and Dad was much happier with that idea.’
Imogen caught Dexter’s eye, and she wasn’t sure who was blushing more furiously.
‘You can take me,’ she said, then cleared her throat. ‘I was about to head out and investigate, but it’s much nicer going with you two.’
‘Are you a good skater?’ Dexter asked.
‘Enthusiastic,’ Imogen said, and Dexter laughed. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m hopeless. I can’t even remember the last time I went.’
‘We went in Norwich.’ Lucy tipped her head back to look up at him. ‘When I was little, with Mum. Then Mum wouldn’t do it because someone fell over and she got really scared, so you took me, and she stood on the side and every time we passed her she cheered like we were winning a race, and when we finished she had hot chocolates for us with cream and marshmallows.’ She grinned up at her dad.
The quiet that followed felt heavy, and Imogen paused with one sock on and one off.
‘Where did all that come from?’ Dexter didn’t sound choked, just befuddled.
‘You told me. When I ask about Mum, you always tell me about her and about us, so I don’t forget her. And I don’t, Dad, and I know you don’t either, but I still want to go ice skating with Imogen, OK?’
‘OK.’ He planted a kiss on his daughter’s upturned forehead. ‘Still want to come?’ he asked Imogen.
‘I would love to come with you,’ she said, and yanked on her other sock.
