Page 71 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘We’re going foraging for tree decorations,’ Lucy told him. ‘Imogen doesn’t like all the fancy ones because they’re what everyone else has, so we’re going to be different.’
Imogen realized today was going to be a day of blushing. ‘I just … I find all the traditions get set in stone, and it’s nice to change things up.’
‘You’ve not been put off by the mistletoe thieves, then?’ Jason raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh no. It wasn’t exactly vandalism, was it?’
‘If that’s the only bit of Christmas mischief this year then we can count ourselves lucky,’ Dexter added. ‘I still think it was Frank and Valerie.’ He grinned, and Jason chuckled. ‘I can just picture it, those two sneaking around after dark with torches and carrier bags, railing against the desecration of the natural world by leaving a big pile of mistletoe on the village green.’
‘A couple of years ago there was a wreath thief going around my parents’ neighbourhood,’ Imogen said. ‘They were pretty luxurious wreaths, and a lot of doors got damaged because they’d been attached securely and the thieves brought proper tools.’
‘That’s big cities for you.’ Jason shook his head. ‘Still, the mistletoe thief wasn’t exactly awash with Christmas spirit, whoever they were. Enjoy your walk. Don’t forget that I sell posh hot chocolate for people who are so cold they can’t feel their fingers.’
Lucy looked beseechingly at her dad, and he smiled and put his hand on her head. ‘We will bear that in mind.’
They said goodbye to Jason, and it wasn’t long before they reached the seafront, a low wall separating them from the promenade and the beach. Imogen shivered.
‘We wouldn’t last long in there,’ Dexter murmured. Today the sea was a deep slate-grey, the waves white-topped, emphasizing how dark and forbidding the water was. But Imogen could still see other colours: the hints of blue; a pink sheen where it reflected the snow-filled sky.
‘Let’s not test it out,’ she said and, trying to appear nonchalant, she tookhishand this time, and they walked down onto the beach.
Under the shelter of the promenade, the wind wasn’t so fierce, but the gusts that came their way were peppered with sea spray, and Imogen huddled closer to Dexter while Lucy and Artichoke raced ahead, distracted by the waves.
‘Don’t get too close!’ Dexter called. Lucy raised an arm in acknowledgement and then ignored him, running straight to the water. ‘She’s ten going on eighteen.’ He rubbed his face.
‘She’s wonderful,’ Imogen said. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children. She was an only child so didn’t have any nieces or nephews, but a few of Edmund’s friends were married, and they had often been beset by cute but noisy toddlers when they’d gone for visits.
Lucy was in that perfect state of being entirely too grown up on one hand, and unashamedly holding onto her childishness on the other. Imogen couldn’t help thinking of the talk they’d had about Dexter before Sophie and Harry’s wedding, and she wondered if she was making life too complicated for them both, simply by being here.
‘She’s a real credit to you, Dexter. She’s bright and happy, and she’s curious. She loves books, not screens, and she has all this to explore on her doorstep. I know it’s impossible not to worry about her, but as someone on the outside, looking in, I think you’re doing an amazing job.’
‘So is she,’ Dexter said. ‘She’s stronger than I ever imagined. But thank you. Idoworry, because I have to decide what’s best for her, every single time. I don’t have Rae to check my thinking against, to contradict me or have other ideas. That push and pull of parenting, where you have two voices, not one. Like a double-check, you know?’
‘I get it, and I can’t imagine how difficult it is. I still think you’re doing a brilliant job.’
Dexter nodded. ‘That means a lot. How are you doing in this cold?’
‘A little bit chilly, but I’m enjoying myself. Shall we see if we can actually find something?’
‘Let’s.’ They walked towards the rockier part of the beach, and he added, ‘I don’t think you’re on the outside, by theway. While you’re here, while you want to be, you’re a part of our lives.’
Imogen didn’t know what to say to that, so she just held his hand tightly as they scrambled over the rocks, peering into pools left behind when the tide receded. They were soon joined by a breathless Lucy and a soaked Artichoke, and they all looked for treasure together. They found cockle and whelk shells, their pale surfaces patterned with pink and gold. Most were broken but a couple were still whole, the unblemished whelk shells particularly appealing.
‘What about razor clams?’ Dexter held one up. It was long and thin with striations all the way along.
‘They look like angel wings,’ Lucy said. ‘We could paint them!’
‘Good thinking.’ He added some of the better examples to Imogen’s tote bag, the contents making a pleasing clinking sound.
A strong gust blew in off the sea and Imogen shuddered, looking up. The heavy sky was still holding onto its contents, and she wondered when it was going to dump them.
‘Right.’ Dexter sounded like he was working hard to stop his teeth from chattering. ‘Let’s move onto the trees, see if we can find some pine cones.’
‘Where are we going, Dad?’
‘To Harry and Sophie’s.’ Lucy squealed and picked up her dog, and Dexter put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Felix is staying with Fiona and Ermin, remember?’
‘Oh.’ Lucy gave an exaggerated sigh.
