Was Josie actually psychic like she insisted she was, or just a good guesser? It was hard to tell. ‘Nothing. He’s probably busy,’ Ivy said lightly. ‘They’re doing all the tourist stuff. It sounded like Brooke had a pretty packed itinerary.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Josie. ‘Besides, he’ll be back soon. It’ll be nice to have him around the place again.’
Ivy smiled. As she turned away to start shelving, though, all she could think was how Trip’s silence, now that she had got used to his chatter, his warm texts, his jokes and teasing, seemed weirdly loud.
On Monday, Ivy woke in the early hours of the morning with her stomach in knots. It was the day of the bonfire. The bonfire that Trip had said he might come back for. But why should that make her feel so sick and hopeful and nervous and excited, all at once? She glanced at her phone, but he hadn’t texted.
And when she thought about it, what on earth was she doing, getting attached to Josie’s irritatingly peppy guest? At the end of the holiday, Trip would head off to some other cool European city or one of the many colleges where he had an offer. She would never see him again. There was nopointin getting attached. This – whatever it was – could go absolutely nowhere. She’d heard of asummerfling, but never amid-Decemberfling.
Ivy lay staring into the darkness of her room as the minutes creaked by, but sleep eluded her. She should be focusing on her art project, she thought, instead of obsessing over Trip. Eventually, she threw off the covers, showered, dressed and arrived at the shop far too early, the morning air still grey and damp, the kind of chill that clung to her clothes and made her feel miserable all the way through. It pretty much suited her mood.
She found Josie already there, wearing what looked like Fin’s pyjamas with a thick fisherman’s jumper thrown over the top, barefoot and humming, lighting tea candles round the front counter like it was a shrine. The scent of pine filled the air, along with the undertow of coffee and cinnamon buns from the bakery.
‘Good morning, darling,’ said Josie, glancing up with her ready smile that crinkled her eyes. ‘I had a feeling you’d be in early today. Couldn’t sleep either?’
‘No,’ admitted Ivy, dumping her tote on the floor. ‘I’m not sure why.’
‘Hm.’ Josie rested her hand on a bundle of twine. ‘Well, since you’re here, I’d love your help. I thought we might make some winter crowns for everyone to wear at the bonfire later out of all this foliage. And I have cookies in the oven for customers. We’re going to really lean into winter this year, darling.’
She nodded to the corner and Ivy saw a stash of pine branches and sprays of red berries.
‘That’swhat that smell is,’ Ivy said, smiling in spite of herself.
‘That’s right,’ said Josie, pouring her a cup of coffee. ‘Winter has come to Wildest Dreams and about time too. Now. Garland time. I don’t think we should be constrained by anything as narrow and unimaginative as acolour theme, should we? You’re an artist after all. We should just do something wonderfully rustic and pagan.’
Ivy snorted. ‘Some artist,’ she said. ‘Painting props for a kids’ show is the pinnacle of my creative achievement at the moment.’
‘Please. If you have an artistic soul it can’t be denied, whateverthe outlet. Go on, darling, let your instincts take hold. Run wild. Trust yourself.’
Ivy obediently took a bundle of dried flowers and pine and began to weave, working in strands of ivy and gold stars, trying to let her instinct take hold. She and Josie worked together, occasionally humming along to the songs playing quietly on the radio.
Then, as Ivy started on a second crown, making it smaller with Liv in mind, Josie spoke softly. ‘Funny, isn’t it? How love shows up in ways you don’t expect.’
Ivy glanced over, caught off guard. ‘What do you mean?’
Josie eyed her own crown critically and then reached for some glitter. ‘I thought I’d already had my great love, once. Years ago. Your mum would remember him – Peter. He was a teacher here in Fox Bay. We were going to see the world together. Quote Russian poetry to each other in Paris and Rome. And then hedied. Can you get more tragically romantic than that?’ She paused, eyes on the flickering candlelight. ‘Afterwards, I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything close to that again. I was content to find my romance in the great Russian novels, in long ago poets. Believe me, I wasn’t evenlooking.’
Ivy stayed quiet.
‘And then, last summer, love foundme,’ Josie continued. ‘Someone who had been right under my nose all this time. Not at all what I thought a great romance would be. No drama, no grand declarations – well, maybe one,’ she said, going pink. ‘But he’s so ordinary, I never expected it.’
‘So Fin isthesecondgreat love of your life?’ Ivy asked.
‘I suppose he must be,’ Josie said thoughtfully. ‘I just didn’t think the second great love of my life would wear fleeces and cargo trousers with zips.’
Ivy fiddled with a sprig of holly, unsure what to say. ‘I thought I’d fall in love at college,’ she said at last. ‘I thought he’d be an artist like me. Moody and intense and serious … I even met someone I thought was perfect. But he turned out not to be, I guess.’
‘Well, you and I are a little alike, dear,’ said Josie. ‘We’re always going to hanker after a grand idea, a great, sweeping love affair. Artists like us …’
Ivy refrained from asking what kind of art Josie actually did.
‘But you’re happy with Fin, right?’ she asked. ‘Even though it’s not super romantic?’
‘Oh, I never said it wasn’t romantic, darling! Fin is the most romantic man I have ever met. But his idea of romance is making my tea just how I like it or putting a hot water bottle in the bed before I get in because he knows I get cold feet at night.’ Josie slipped the end of a branch and added a crown to the growing pile. ‘I wonder if … maybe you don’t always get the kind of love you think you want. But sometimes you get the love you need.’
Ivy smiled. Occasionally, Josie, for all her strangeness and flights of fancy, could be surprisingly wise and down-to-earth. ‘The love you need. I like that.’
She thought of Trip, showing up full of good humour whenshe had been at her lowest. Of him jumping in to save the show and the way Liv’s face had shone with relief. Of him dragging her out of the darkened art room to experience Winter Wonderland. Unlike Raff, with his moods and reveries, Trip had kept showing up, endlessly cheerful, exactly when she needed him.
