Page 60 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
Now it was in place, the ice rink looked magical. Fairy lights were strung up around the tops of poles which ran around the wall at intervals, and were covered in foam so they were soft to grab onto, and a soundtrack of Christmas classics drifted up towards the night sky, which was cloudless and twinkling with stars. The statuesque oak tree looked on, adorned by its own glittering lights, and the rink was already busy, the whoosh and scrape of blades against fresh ice twisting Imogen’s stomach into a nostalgic knot.
They joined the queue, Lucy jumping up and down,Imogen’s gaze colliding with Dexter’s before they both looked away.
‘We might have to put Story Time on hold,’ Jazz said, as she, Fiona and Ermin joined the queue behind them. ‘The village hall isn’t going to be the quietest place for the next few weeks.’
‘Harry should have warned you,’ Fiona said.
Jazz shrugged. ‘This is a lot of fun, and everyone’s busy in the run-up to Christmas. We can pick it up again in the new year.’
‘Or you could do the sessions at the manor, like you threatened when we were decorating mistletoe,’ Ermin suggested. Jazz looked confused. ‘You know, going down into the cellar, adding the spooky atmosphere?’
Dexter glanced at Imogen, and she tried very hard not to laugh.
‘I actually had to go into their cellar,’ he said. ‘There was a trapped pigeon flapping about, spiderwebs like cities. It’s not a place you’d want to take anyone. Not even the most hard-as-nails person in the village—’
‘So Winnie, then,’ Fiona said.
‘Not even Winnie would be comfortable down there,’ Dexter finished. ‘It was … an experience.’
‘Heightens your emotions, does it?’ Jazz looked from him to Imogen, and Imogen thought his cheeks might be rosy from more than the cold.
‘Dad, what’s happened?’ Lucy asked. ‘Why is Jazz smiling at you like that?’
‘We’ve reached the front of the queue, is what’s happened.’ The look he shot Imogen was pure relief.
They collected skates from the young man who wasmanning the boot collection, and sat on benches to pull them on. Imogen felt the familiar weight, the way the boot was so unyielding it was like putting her foot in a box. When she was laced up, she pushed herself upright, wobbling slightly but kept in place by the rubber floor, and held her hand out to Lucy. Lucy put her gloved hand in Imogen’s, then offered her free one to her dad, and soon they were all standing.
‘Ready to do this?’ Imogen noticed the amber flecks in Dexter’s eyes under the high-beam glow that lit up the rink.
‘Just about,’ he said, at the same time as Lucy shouted ‘yes!’
The rink was busy, but not so much that they couldn’t move. Fiona and Ermin were skating around the edge, competent but cautious, and Jazz was like a baby goat, inexpert but clearly determined not to give up.
‘She’s going to do the splits if she’s not careful.’ There was a tremor in Dexter’s voice, and Imogen gave him a reassuring look over the top of Lucy’s head.
‘We can go as slowly as you like.’
‘For a bit,’ Lucy added, and Imogen grinned while Dexter laughed.
‘Come on, then,’ he said. And, with Dexter and Imogen each holding one of Lucy’s hands, they stepped carefully onto the ice rink.
It was like a fairy tale, Imogen decided, as she inhaled another breath of icy air, and expelled a tiny cloud. The sky was midnight blue, the rink was surrounded by its own twinkling lights and the soft-focus glow of the village, Michael Bublé crooned out Christmas melodies and therewas a strong smell of cinnamon from the pop-up hot chocolate stall that Jason had set up.
Their skating wasn’t magical, because Dexter wanted to cling to the wall, Lucy wanted to race ahead and Imogen, predictably, was trying to make them both happy, which was impossible.
But then Lucy slowed, taking pity on her dad, and Dexter gingerly let go of the foam post he was clinging to, and the three of them were skating in tandem, Lucy in the middle. Mariah Carey sang about what she wanted for Christmas, and Imogen was sure that anyone who didn’t know them, anyone who was looking on, would think they were a family. Her throat closed up, because she was only borrowing them while she was here. She tried to loosen her grip, but Lucy tightened hers and kept on skating. Dexter glanced at her. ‘OK?’ he mouthed, and she nodded, not wanting to distract him.
‘There’s Amber!’ Lucy squealed. She released herself and shot off across the ice as if she had been born on skates.
‘Be careful, Luce!’ Dexter called, and she waved a hand in acknowledgement.
‘Who’s Amber?’ Imogen closed the gap between them.
‘Her best friend.’ Dexter pointed to where Lucy was hugging a girl with dark, corkscrew curls, who was standing at the edge of the rink, a tall couple behind her. ‘Amber’s parents are here too, so we can leave her with them for a bit.’
‘Great,’ Imogen said, but some of her sparkle had faded. Dexter picked up her gloved hand, threading his fingers between hers.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ They skated close to the wall,but he wasn’t clinging onto it any more. He was so handsome, in his navy jacket and a grey-striped scarf, his curls thick and infinitely tuggable – as she’d found out at their rehearsal.
