Page 18 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

‘So how has work been, darling?’

Isla had been about to launch into a spiel about how much she was enjoying working in the bookshop, before realising that her mum had been talking about something else entirely. Her other job, or rather, her old job, in London.

‘You’ve not really said too much about it. Have you signed any wonderful new books recently?’

‘It’s been hectic, Mum. There’s been a lot going on, that’s for sure.’

Fortunately, Isla had been attempting to do the sudoku in the weekend papers so her slightly distracted tone wasn’t out of place, but she hoped her mum might get the message that she wasn’t keen to talk about work.

‘But you’re still enjoying your job, aren’t you?’

‘Of course!’ said Isla rather too vehemently. ‘I love publishing new books and working with my authors, but there’s a lot of stress and responsibility to heading up the imprint.’

‘I can imagine, darling, but they’ve got the right person for the role, haven’t they? Everyone’s always so impressed when I tell them what you do. I point out all your books to them.’

‘I’m sure after the busy year Isla has had, she just wants to switch off from work and forget about her job for a few weeks,’ said Hugo, clearing the finished coffee cups from the table and loading them into the dishwasher.

‘I would understand that, but it can hardly be very relaxing having to go into Finch’s every day.’

Isla put down her pen and folded away the paper.

‘I don’t have to, Mum. I choose to. I want to help out Jon and Miriam, and honestly, it doesn’t feel like work. When I’m at the bookstore, I forget about everything else, and just immerse myself in the world of books.’

‘Well, that’s nothing new. You used to do that when you were a little girl, hiding yourself away in your pop-up Wendy house, with all your books around you. Do you remember, Hugo?’

‘How could I forget? You always preferred your books to any toys. It was adorable,’ said her dad.

‘Exactly! And nothing’s changed.’ Isla gave a bright smile, pushing her chair back and jumping to her feet. ‘Look, I should go and take Oscar for a walk.’ It had become part of her regular Sunday-morning routine, one which the dog had quickly become accustomed to as well. Oscar gave a small bark of excitement and ran straight to the wicker cabinet where the dog paraphernalia was kept.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ her dad asked.

‘No, you two walk him most other times. Make the most of the opportunity for me to do it while you can. We’ll have lots of fun, won’t we, Oscar?’

Isla felt a tad guilty that she wasn’t around more often to walk Oscar, as she usually took over those duties when she was home from London, but working at Finch’s didn’t leave her any time during the week. Instead, she looked forward to her Sunday walks, a chance to get out into the fresh air and beautiful countryside, to clear her head, and to prepare herself mentally for the upcoming week. Right now, it was also the perfect excuse to get out of the house and away from her mum’s well-meaning questions.

Even the freezing temperatures outside weren’t enough to put her off. Wrapped up in several layers of clothes, walking boots, a woolly hat and gloves, she was protected from the worst of the conditions and even Oscar had his smart green fleece on to shield him from the elements. She knew exactly where she was going. Through the woods, not stopping this time to collect any pinecones or greenery, but keeping up a good pace to ward off the cold. Oscar padded happily ahead, his nose to the floor, sniffing out every new scent brought in by the chill wind. Without the distraction of any squirrels scampering amongst the trees or any other dogs to play with, Oscar stayed within a reasonable distance of Isla, looking back occasionally to check that she was still there. The ground was hard underfoot and a white, sugar-like frosting coated the branches of the trees, creating a picture-perfect Christmas-card effect. She walked the entire length of the path, enjoying the crisp freshness and the solitude, before heading down the lane and into the field. She passed some other dog walkers, exchanging a friendly hello, but it wasn’t the weather to be standing around and chatting. She would walk around the field and then head back down the lane in the other direction. It was a circular route they’d done on so many occasions before, in the height of summer and in the depths of winter, and Isla loved seeing the changes in the seasons, knowing that the stark, bare trees and the exposed woody stems of the hedgerows would, within a matter of weeks, be bursting into life again. It was a reminder that nothing ever stayed the same, and however difficult or stagnant life might seem at any given moment, there was always a chance of recovery and renewal just around the corner.

She paused for a moment, lifted her head to the sky, closed her eyes and inhaled a breath of the sharp December air, feeling it bite against her nose and cheeks. When she exhaled, an involuntary beatific smile spread across her face and as she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on a figure in the distance. Tall, rangy, masculine. She realised immediately who it was, helped in no small part by recognising the man’s four-legged companion, but not fast enough for her to quickly grab Oscar and put his lead on, because the dog’s senses were obviously a lot keener than hers. They might have quickly made their escape, turned and walked out of the field and into the lane, without it being entirely obvious that she was deliberately trying to avoid them, if only Isla had been a bit more aware, but Oscar had other ideas. His ears pricked, his stance frozen and with his tail held long and straight behind him, the dog’s attention was focussed on one thing and one thing only.

‘No, don’t even think about it,’ she hissed, but it was too late. Like an Olympic athlete released from the starting blocks, Oscar was off galloping, without giving a second thought to Isla, who was calling his name fruitlessly.

‘Damn,’ she muttered, an uneasy feeling gathering in her chest, an emotion that she couldn’t quite put a name to. This was the last thing she needed, especially when she’d been so enjoying the peaceful isolation and the time alone to get her thoughts in order. Now, her thoughts were tumbling in all directions, realising she was going to have to make polite conversation, which would inevitably end up being awkward and uncomfortable. It always was with Guy Madley.

She delved into her coat pocket and pulled out a whistle, giving it a couple of short, sharp blasts. Nothing. Not even a cursory glance. Well, nothing from Oscar but it did elicit a wave of recognition from Guy. Diana always liked to boast about how good Oscar’s recall was, how she could call him from the other side of a field and he would be immediately responsive, but in the same way that Diana exaggerated her daughter’s accomplishments, Isla suspected her mother was over-egging the situation when it came to the dog’s obedience.

Isla took a deep breath, burying her embarrassment. There was no avoiding the situation now. She had no other option but to head in Guy’s direction, where she could already see Oscar play bowing and leaping about like a puppy, having a grand time. Isla marched over, although it took her much longer to reach the other side of the field than it had Oscar, and she was only marginally out of breath by the time she got there.

‘Hello! Again,’ she said, with a sheepish smile. ‘And hello, Lottie!’ She leaned down to give the dog a proper fuss. It was much easier to focus her attentions on Lottie than it was to make eye contact with Guy, who was looking very dapper, channelling his English squire persona today. Wearing jeans, green wellies, long wax coat and a flat cap, he appeared effortlessly stylish, and as though he and Lottie might be part of a photo shoot for a country living magazine.

‘Hi, I must apologise. It seems that Lottie enjoys leading Oscar astray.’ There was a flash of amusement in Guy’s eyes. ‘Honestly, she’s not like this with all the dogs. She definitely has a soft spot for your boy.’

‘Well, I’m not sure we can entirely blame Lottie, when it was Oscar who made a beeline for her from the other side of the field. Sadly, nothing was going to stop him, not even our previous intensive training regime,’ she said wryly.

‘Let’s put it down to six of one and half a dozen of the other then,’ he said, flashing her a grin. ‘The dogs are happy, which is the main thing. Are you walking this way?’ He indicated ahead as the two dogs had already decided upon the route and were trotting off happily together.

‘Yes,’ she said, partly because she didn’t want to go through the humiliation of trying to wrangle Oscar again in front of Guy, knowing that it would only end in embarrassment, and partly because, now that she was here, she was intrigued to find out more about this man. Not the property professional she’d met in Finch’s, but the dog owner and near neighbour who clearly was a familiar face around these parts. Also, she was keen to have at least one conversation with him where she wasn’t making a complete fool of herself or feeling on the back foot. Even before she’d gathered her thoughts and had a chance to ask him something, he got in first with a question delivered with a curious expression.

‘So, how’s things? Tell me, is publishing really as glamorous a career as it’s made out to be? It certainly sounds that way.’