Quinn stepped back out into the cold.
‘All good?’ Noah asked.
‘Brilliant.’ Then, pausing, he turned back to the shop. ‘Daniel?’
‘Mm?’
‘Can you bring the sign in?’
‘Sure.’
Outside, Noah raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. ‘Ready?’
‘Definitely.’
So, throwing caution to the wind, they headed out onto the snowy street, trudging into the layers of snow that wouldn’t budge. As they exhaled, their breath formed misted shapes in front of them, which they could interpret if they paused. The winter dark took hold of Hay, and despite the cold, the place felt warm. Shops stayed open later, aromas of fresh baked confectionery and steaming caffeine drifting throughout the night.
‘I smell something fruity,’ Quinn said, and before Noah could object, Quinn took Noah’s hand and dragged him down the slippery street. They went past the butter market, which was built to be cold, so god knows how cold it was in there now, and around the corner, where a woman in a large puffer jacket stood in the doorway, her face visible through the top like a mare ready to race. The two men laughed, jostling each other like it was only them in the street.
‘Mulled wine, gents?’ She smiled, taking them in. Her eyes settled on Noah touching Quinn’s forearm. ‘Oh, I heard you were in town.’
‘You did?’ Noah asked, dropping his hand and stepping away from Quinn. Quinn fixed the faltering smile on his face, convincing himself he was overthinking.
‘Gossip spreads fast here, Mr Sage. You should know that.’
Quinn looked at Noah to gauge his reaction. He smiled, but he wondered if Noah felt a little awkward. His eyes glanced at Quinn and darted away.
Hay didn’t change. Everyone knew everyone. And everyone loved everyone. Which meant that everyone gossiped about everyone. But it was a kind place, a joyful place, a place where neighbours looked out for one another.
The woman turned away from the door and went into the kitchen of a café that wasn’t allowing people to sit inside during the dark night. She came back carrying two disposable mugs, steam rising from the top. Inside was dark red wine, scented with spices and citrus – a spicy scent that made Quinn already feel warm. Quinn made to pay, but Noah shook his head.
‘I’ll get them.’
‘Oh, no, you bring enough to Hay as it is.’ She winked at Noah. ‘Have these on me, boys.’
‘Thank you,’ they both said.
‘Will we see you at the wassail tomorrow?’
‘The … what, sorry?’
Quinn smirked, seeing Noah for what he had become. ‘City boy here doesn’t know what that is.’
Noah turned to him, grinning. ‘Oh, so now I’m “city boy”?’
‘The wassail happens every year, Noah,’ Quinn said. ‘I guess cities don’t have any fun.’
‘I can assure you cities are a lot of fun, hippie boy.’ Noah turned back to the woman, who grinned at their exchange. ‘What’s the wassail?’
She showed a poster pinned on a board next to her. A colourful image of a horse’s skull, decorated with tassels and baubles for eyes, was the focus.
‘We gather and sing, going from house to house,’ she said. ‘It’s tomorrow night.’
‘What the hell is that horse thing?’ Noah asked.
Quinn gasped. ‘Donotdisrespect our Mari like that.’
‘Mari?’
