Love and Lies at the Village Christmas Shop Page 11

  Beneath the surface, I feel my emotions getting the better of me. I sniff hard and clear my thoughts.

  ‘They’re cute,’ Seb says.

  ‘My dad bought them for me and Holly when we were eleven – sort of a last-minute Christmas present to add to our Santa sacks. He’d seen them in some boutique shop on his travels and my mum says it was the fact that they were the same thing but looked different that made him think they’d be perfect presents for us. He was on his way home with them just a week before Christmas one night when he hit some ice, swerved off the road and…’

  I don’t want to finish the sentence.

  ‘Ivy, I’m so sorry,’ Seb says, wrapping an arm around me.

  I try to shrug casually, although I’m not sure how convincing I am.

  I think that, along with Christmas reminding us of Mum, losing Dad so close to Christmas is one of the reasons Holly hates it so much. That’s why Mum tried too hard to make it special for us though, because she knew it would always be a hard time with painful memories attached.

  ‘After he died, I clung on to this dog. It felt like my last connection to him. I wouldn’t leave the house without it. I had it by my side when I ate, when I slept… It got to a point where my mum thought it might be best to…wean me off it, I guess. The less I depended on it, the more it made me sad to look at it. It was a painful reminder… I was just a kid,’ I tell him, like that explains it.

  ‘It’s nice that you have it,’ he tells me. ‘And that you take care of Holly’s.’

  ‘Yeah, when my mum gave it to us and explained, Holly shunned it. All it did was upset her. Maybe one day she’ll want it and when she does, it’s here. I might keep mine out, actually…’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had so much sadness in your life,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘But you still have Holly and the kids, and they worship you. That’s a wonderful thing to have.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re amazing,’ I agree, holding my dog close to my chest.

  ‘You’re really lucky to have them,’ he tells me. ‘Some people put so much emphasis on things – houses, holidays, cars, designer clothes – but, at the end of the day, it’s just money that gets you those things. Money can’t get you a family.’

  At first I want to agree with him, tell him that everything he just said is right and that I’ve always believed that. But then I look for the hidden agenda and, sure enough, I find one.

  ‘So, what you’re telling me is that, because I have a family, I should let go of material things? Like, I don’t know, say, my home and my business?’

  ‘Ivy, that’s not what I was saying at all,’ he says hurriedly, holding his hands out in front of his body defensively.

  ‘Sure it wasn’t, Seb. Except you’re about as subtle as a grenade.’

  ‘Ivy…’

  ‘Actually, could you go?’ I say as I feel the tears stacking up behind my eyes.

  ‘Ivy… OK, if that’s what you want,’ he replies.

  ‘It is,’ I say quickly. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ he insists. ‘Goodnight then.’

  Without much prompting, Seb goes. Leaving me alone in the loft, surrounded by the things that remind me of the life I had before it started to crumble around me. Maybe he was just being a gentleman, respecting my wishes, leaving me alone because I asked him to, or maybe he’s worried that if a murder happens here, it’ll be bad for business…

  Chapter 14

  As I puff air from my cheeks, I slump down in my chair behind the counter, after handing out my final plate of gingerbread truffles. When our first few customers of the day arrived, I thought it would be a lovely idea to hand out a few truffles from the batch I made last night. What I didn’t anticipate was just how many customers were going to walk through the door today, and now my gingerbread truffle supplies are as exhausted as I am.

  Seeing the shop teeming with people fills my heart with happiness – and neither my heart, nor the shop, has felt this full for such a long time, so I’m trying my hardest to savour it and focus on today rather than worrying about tomorrow.

  All the happy faces, marvelling at the items in the shop, visiting our (surprisingly perfectly behaved) Santa Claus – and as people stroll around the place I can’t help but hear them all buzzing from their trip here on the train. There’s just this magic in the air, which I haven’t felt since my mum was alive, when the shop used to be busy. If she could see the shop as it is today, she would be over the moon.

  Happy customers and festive cheer aside, there is one other very important thing to note, and that’s that, with all the money we’re making from the increase in custom (both on and offline) I can comfortably pay Gaz for working here, pay my bills, and still manage to put some money away to go towards the astronomically large deposit I’ll need to get a mortgage to buy this place before Seb does. I might only be taking small step but, with only a couple of weeks until Christmas, at least I’m moving.

  Gaz heads into the back room, after another successful shift playing Santa Claus, to hurriedly remove his outfit, which he says he’s melting inside of because I have the heating on too high. Yesterday I caught him loosening his pants while he was still out here, so I had to give him a talk about how, best-case scenario, kids might realise he’s not really Santa Claus if he’s taking his costume off, and, worst-case scenario, it doesn’t look great, Santa taking his pants off in front of children. After 15 minutes he re-emerges in his regular clothes, with two cinnamon lattes in his hands.

  ‘I can’t make them the same as you can,’ he says, placing one down in front of me. ‘But I thought I’d try.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. It looks a little rough around the edges, but it’s exactly what I need right now – a little like Gaz himself, really. I do like that – when things appear one way, but are totally different on the inside. Gaz has really surprised me with the way he’s stepped up, but I’m so delighted that he has because now I’m not sure how I ever coped without him.

  ‘I still can’t believe Seb invited himself over last night,’ Gaz says, cradling his mug in his hands, gossiping like a housewife, which makes me smile.

  ‘I know,’ I reply. ‘At least the kids finally got their bunk beds built, and Holly’s husband didn’t have to get in late on Christmas Eve and feel like he had to do it right then.’

  ‘I could’ve built them for you on my own,’ he insists. ‘You didn’t need him.’

  ‘Oh really? Did you build your son’s bunk beds?’ I ask sarcastically.

  Gaz laughs. ‘I’m really sorry about that, Ivy, I just really needed this job and it was the only thing I could think of, to make sure you hired me. Little white lies don’t hurt anyone, do they?’

  ‘No, they just thoroughly embarrass,’ I tell him. ‘But it’s fine, all is well that ends well.’

  ‘This isn’t the end,’ he assures me, looking me square in the eyes. ‘We’re still fighting. We’ll show that Seb he can’t just muscle into our town and do what he likes.’

  I smile. Seb has more experience and, more importantly, more resources than we do, so I very much doubt we will show him. Gaz’s passion for the cause means so much to me though, because this isn’t technically his fight, so he’s in my corner because he wants to be.

  After the final wave of customers leave to catch the last train back to town, I follow them to the door, wishing them all happy holidays before closing the door, locking it behind them and turning the sign around to show that we’re closed. Finally. It’s been an amazing day, but it’s been a long day. I’ll definitely sleep well tonight.

  I’ve no sooner turned my back on the door when I hear a knock on the glass. Peeping out through the window I spot Charlie, standing there in her furry earmuffs, blowing into her cold hands. She raises her eyebrows to signal for me to let her in. Reluctantly, I open the door.

  ‘Charlie, hello,’ I say. ‘What’s up?

  ‘Hello, Ivy; hello, Gaz,’ she says, waving over
to him. ‘I just wanted a quick word.’

  ‘OK,’ I say cautiously. ‘What’s up?’

  Charlie edges closer to the counter so that Gaz can hear what she has to say too. We both stare at her until she eventually spits out exactly why she’s here.

  ‘The other night, when we were at the pub,’ she starts, pausing to consider her words. ‘I’d asked Seb out for a drink a couple of times already and he’d make polite excuses each time. But then, out of nowhere, he suddenly changed his mind and invited me to the Ghost. I figured he’d just seen sense and decided he did want to go out with me – and I felt like we had an amazing time together, even though we wound up spending a little time with you two out of manners or whatever.’

  I literally hold my tongue between my teeth, to stop myself saying anything in response to this.

  ‘Anyway, I thought we all had a great time,’ she continues. ‘But when it came to the end of the night, and it came to going home…he just wasn’t interested, at all. He didn’t want to go to my place, he didn’t want me going back to his B&B – not even a kiss in the car park.’

  I shrug my shoulders.

  ‘Come on,’ she reasons. ‘He shot me down. Who does he think he is?’

  A person capable of making his own decisions? ‘So…’

  ‘So, he invited me out, but then at the end of the date he goes cold on me. And it wasn’t just that he didn’t wanna spend the night – I actually tried to kiss him goodnight and he turned his head.’

  It’s kind of hard to understand exactly why Charlie is so upset. I mean, no one likes getting knocked back, but she seems to think that just because she’s Charlie, men should be throwing themselves at her feet. If every man not wanting to sleep with you is an upsetting concept, I should constantly be in tears.

  ‘Right,’ I reply.

  ‘You know him,’ she says. ‘I thought you might know what he’s playing at – unless he’s gay? Gay would explain it.’

  I stifle a laugh. ‘Nope, he’s not gay, sorry.’

  ‘Well, why would he mess me around like that?’ she asks, her shoulders dropping as she pouts. ‘Can I use your bathroom?’

  ‘Of course,’ I tell her. ‘Just up the stairs, on the left.’

  As soon as Charlie is out of earshot, I lean in to talk to Gaz.

  ‘Is she really this upset over getting knocked back by one guy?’ I whisper.

  ‘Probably.’ He laughs. ‘She’ll need to find another victim now.’

  I snigger. I don’t think Seb is the only one with a hidden agenda around here; I think everyone in town knows that Charlie’s ultimate game plan is to marry well and retire. Strange really, because it’s not like she doesn’t have a good job – not only is being a vet the perfect job for an animal lover like her, but it’s not like she isn’t being well paid, is it? I wonder, if the real Henry Cavill – or Jamie Dornan – wandered into the shop and asked me to marry him, if I’d happily say yes, sack off the shop, and go and live a life of luxury. I like to think the shop is more important to me than any of that – but I don’t suppose it’s ever going to be a dilemma that I need to face. I wish! Movie stars don’t just wander into Christmas shops in the middle of nowhere, before popping the question to the frazzled-looking owner the second they clap eyes on them, do they?

  ‘It is weird though,’ he says. ‘That he knocked her back.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yeah, well, sounds like she was offering it to him on a plate, and he said no…’

  ‘You wouldn’t have said no?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he says with a laugh.

  I don’t pass comment on this.

  ‘What is he playing at?’ I wonder out loud. ‘Turning up at the pub with her, crashing our plans. He knew that’s where we were going to be.’

  ‘Do you think he was trying to make you jealous?’ Gaz asks me.

  ‘Me? No, of course not,’ I reply. I think about it for a few seconds. ‘Why would he want to make me jealous?’

  ‘Maybe he likes you,’ Gaz suggests.

  ‘Or maybe it’s another game,’ I reply, the cogs beginning to turn in my head. ‘Just another way to try and get inside my head.’

  I hear Charlie walking back down the stairs and I quickly stop talking.

  ‘Anyway, so I came here to tell you that I’m on your side now,’ she says. ‘I want his business to fail.’

  ‘Well, that’s sweet of you,’ I reply. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ she starts, twirling a strand of her hair in her fingertips. ‘Wouldn’t it be awful if everyone else turned on him too?’

  ‘On Saint Seb?’ I laugh. ‘That’s never going to happen; he has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.’

  ‘I just think that, if they had a little encouragement, that would be all it would take,’ she says. ‘Like, say, if someone were to spread some rumours about him, about what he was really like – maybe exaggerated rumours, that play with the truth just enough to legitimise them – we could kneecap him with that.’

  I feel my eyes widen with horror. This is exactly the kind of woman that men are talking about when they talk about psycho women, isn’t it? I thought they only existed in fiction but here’s one, standing right in front of me, trying to drag me into her crazy ‘woman scorned’ scheme.

  ‘If you wanted to do something to support the cause, we’re going to have a stall at the Winter Wonderland, and we need as much help as possible,’ I suggest to her in an attempt to change the subject from psychological warfare. ‘If you fancy it?’

  ‘OK, sure,’ she replies. ‘If it helps run him out of town.’

  ‘Great,’ I reply. ‘I’ll be in touch with the details.’

  ‘She is one angry bird,’ Gaz says once Charlie has left, closing the door behind her. After every crazy thing she’s just said, he doesn’t risk talking about her behind her back until he’s certain she can’t hear him. ‘She’s got good ideas though. We could easily spread rumours about him.’

  I laugh. ‘Like what?’ I ask, thinking his funny suggestions might cheer me up a little.

  ‘Like, maybe he’s got a wife and kids somewhere – or loads of wives and kids.’

  ‘Like a bigamist?’

  ‘Is that what you call it? Yeah. Maybe he turns up in towns, gets married, runs up loads of debt and then runs away, leaving the poor cow to raise the kids and pay all the bills.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ I say, but then my face falls. ‘Gaz, don’t you dare.’

  ‘Don’t what?’ he asks coyly.

  ‘We’re just joking around, right? You’re not going to tell people that about Seb?’

  ‘No?’ he replies, his voice shooting up in pitch.

  ‘Gaz, I do not want you to do this,’ I say as clearly as I possibly can. ‘This could land us in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘OK,’ he replies with a wink. ‘I won’t do it.’

  ‘This isn’t a nudge nudge, wink wink thing,’ I stress, just to make sure he fully understands exactly what I’m saying.

  ‘I completely understand,’ he assures me with a nod.

  Does he though?

  ‘OK,’ I reply. ‘So we beat him fairly. Whatever happens, I want my hands to be clean. It’s what my mum would want too.’

  ‘Got you,’ he replies. ‘Clean hands.’

  For a second, I wonder to myself whether or not there is a chance that Gaz might do something stupid in the name of saving the shop. I really don’t think I could have made it any clearer, that I absolutely do not want him to do anything underhand – especially not making up lies about Seb and spreading them around town. Not only is it absolutely not what my mum would do in my shoes, but I just know that I won’t feel proud of myself at all, if I resort to lies in an attempt to drive Seb out of town.

  While I might not agree with Charlie’s tactics, I am more than happy to have her onside, willing to help out, even if her motive isn’t pure. Having an extra pair of hands at the Winter Wonderland Festival will be such a massive help; we
always get so busy there. I just need to make sure that while I’m running things, I am able to keep Gaz in check, as well as Charlie, and watch that they don’t do anything reckless. But not only do they both seem like loose cannons at the best of times, they’re fuelled by emotion right now. There’s no telling what they might do. I just really hope they listen to me when I say that I don’t want to do anything shady in order to win. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens now…

  Chapter 15

  It is finally beginning to look and feel a lot like Christmas – at long last. It always hits you all at once, doesn’t it? At the start of the year it feels like there are so many possibilities for the year ahead, and it feels like Christmas is so far away…but then, all of a sudden it is Easter, then it’s summer. The build-up to Christmas feels like it starts earlier and earlier each year (my shop excluded, obviously, it’s Christmas every day here), with the town Christmas lights being switched on in November. It feels like there is all the time in the world to get prepared for the most wonderful time of the year and then, all at once, you realise Christmas is imminent, and you are not even remotely ready for it.

  As soon as the clock strikes 12, and we are officially in December, that’s when I put up my personal Christmas tree in my flat. Sure, there are plenty of trees in the shop, but those ones are up all year round, so they don’t count. Growing up, my mum always bought a real tree, so I make sure I keep up that Jones family tradition. There is nothing quite like the incredible smell that you get with a real Christmas tree.

  Along with the family decorations that we’ve had for years, I cover my tree with strings of popcorn, candy canes, and chocolate decorations, which combined make the whole flat smell irresistibly festive and delicious. Obviously we don’t eat the popcorn, because by the time Christmas is over it is not exactly fit for human consumption, but Chloe and Harry always come over to help me with the candy canes and the chocolate decorations. There are already a few gaps, where edible decorations have been prematurely pinched, but that is pretty much a family tradition too. As much as Holly hates the rigmarole of putting up the Christmas tree, she does like the fact that we’ve always made sure it was largely edible.