Page 98 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
There was a sweet, confirmatory yip, and Imogen leaned up on her elbows to see Artichoke standing in the doorway, all fuzzy caramel fur and a tiny elf hat at a jaunty angle.
‘I think we’re going to have to get up,’ Dexter said.
‘I think you’re probably right.’
They sat around the kitchen table with cups of hot chocolate, and watched Lucy open her stocking. Imogen wondered if her heart would survive the day. It was still early, but she was so content, sohappywatching this little girl revel in the chocolate coins and Brazil nuts, the glittery Kindle case and the football-shaped purse, the cuddly Brussels sprout, the tangerine nestling at the bottom.
‘This is fruit.’ She held it up for everyone to see.
‘Fruit is good for you,’ Dexter said.
‘It’s a Christmas tradition,’ Birdie added, and Imogen thought that, despite the rant she’d had in front of Lucy and Dexter, which still made her cringe whenever she thought about it, some Christmas traditions were actually OK.
Lucy squealed. ‘Glitter hairspray! Can I be glittery for Christmas, Dad?’
‘I’m sure that was Santa’s idea,’ he said, and glanced at Imogen. She was taken back to the village hall, not long after she’d arrived, Dexter gently lifting her hair and examining the rose-gold ends, the air fizzing between them, even then.
‘Do you want to be glittery too, Imogen?’ Lucy asked. ‘As often as possible,’ she confirmed. ‘We can do each other’s before we leave.’
‘Yes! And what are we having for breakfast?’ Lucy wiped cream off her top lip.
‘That’s up to Sophie and Harry,’ Dexter said, ‘but last year it was pancakes.’
‘Ilovepancakes.’ Imogen’s stomach rumbled, despite all the sugar she’d just ingested.
‘We’d better get ready.’ Birdie loaded her veg bundles into a large tote bag. ‘Are you wearing that, Imogen?’
She was wearing her purple dress again, the one she’dbought for Sophie and Harry’s wedding. Everyone would see her in it for the second time in a month, and that made her feel liberated ‘I was going to.’
‘You’ll need a jumper and woolly socks,’ Lucy said knowingly. ‘It’s far too cold forthatsort of thing.’
Dexter was suppressing a grin, and Imogen tried to hide hers too, but she couldn’t quite manage it. She had a long road ahead of her where Lucy was concerned. ‘I’ll be all right inside the manor though, won’t I?’
‘What about that nice new cardie you bought?’ Birdie said. ‘I’d pop that over the top if I were you.’
When they were finally ready, with all their foody offerings and bags of presents, Lucy and Imogen’s hair sparkling with slightly sticky rainbow glitter, they bundled out onto the doorstep. The snow was falling in gentle flakes, their boots crunching satisfyingly in the fresh powder as they stepped carefully onto the pavement. Imogen’s nose tingled pleasantly, and Dexter picked up Artichoke because, he told Lucy, they might lose her otherwise.
‘A white Christmas,’ Imogen said. ‘Who would have thought something so amazing would happen?’
‘Me,’ Dexter murmured, so only she could hear. He hefted Birdie’s bag of vegetables onto his shoulder, held Artichoke in one arm, and with his free hand, took Imogen’s. They exchanged a look, and there went her heart again.
Christmas songs were playing from the speakers at the ice rink, and a couple of families were already whizzing around, getting in some fresh air and exercise before a day of presents, too much food and contented naps. Mary waved from where she was manning the boot collection, and shouted, ‘Merry Christmas!’
‘Merry Christmas,’ Imogen called, waving back enthusiastically, and wondered how this could be her life.
The fairy lights twinkled, leading the way down Mistingham Manor’s long driveway, where mistletoe still hung from all the trees. Imogen dragged Dexter over to a large bunch, pushed him gently against the trunk and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. ‘I can’t believe you replaced all my mistletoe. I was only alittlebit upset that it got taken down.’
‘I know, but it upset me,’ he said. ‘You’d done this great thing for the village – you hadn’t been here long but you were already helping out, then someone destroyed it all.
Besides, with our promise—’
‘Mistletoe was symbolic,’ Imogen finished. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t let you rescue me from Edmund. I needed to make things right between us, after what I’d done.’
‘I know,’ Dexter said softly. ‘I always understood that.’
‘Have they worked out who took down all the mistletoe?’
Birdie asked, once Imogen and Dexter had left their tree trunk behind. ‘It was such a pointless thing to do.’
