Page 5 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

She reached out a hand for her mum’s and gave it a squeeze.

‘Well, I’m certain you don’t eat properly in London. It won’t do you any harm, some good food and drink, and the chance to fully rest. I was saying to your father how tired you’re looking. They’re obviously working you too hard in that job!’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said with a grimace, thinking she’d done a good job at putting on her usual positive front for her parents. The recent stresses at work had obviously taken more of a toll than she realised. ‘Okay, Oscar, walkies!’ she said, pushing her chair back from the table and sending the dog into a frenzy of excitement as she went in search of his lead. They were both in dire need of some fresh air. Wrapped up in her grey puffa jacket, some thick gloves and a woolly hat, Isla pulled open a kitchen cupboard. ‘I’ll take a bag and some snips because I want to pick up some Christmas greenery; maybe some holly and berries, and some of those lovely big pinecones from the woods. We can have a bit of a forage, can’t we, Oscar. I thought it might be nice to take some Christmas cheer along to the shop.’

‘Really, darling? Are you sure? This is supposed to be a break for you, not a busman’s holiday?’

‘It’s no hardship. You know how much I love Finch’s. Besides, I’m only helping out while they go to Jon’s hospital appointments.’ Isla had heard the doubt, or was it disappointment, in her mum’s words. ‘If there’s anything you want us to do together, shopping or organising for Christmas, then just let me know. There’s plenty of time, Mum.’

‘I know. You do you, darling,’ Diana breezed, making Isla smile, never having heard her mum use that expression before. ‘As long as you’re happy!’

Isla headed out, thinking on her mum’s words. Was she happy? She was certainly pleased to be home, to be spending time with her parents and especially Oscar, who she missed hugely when she was in London. She was looking forward to her bookshop shift tomorrow and to Christmas, but she knew that she was in a self-imposed bubble, one that conveniently forgot about her real life, and that could likely burst at any moment.

Outside, the winter sky was clear and bitterly cold and she felt certain her nose was shining bright and red, like Rudolph’s, but she relished the sensation of the elements on her face, making her skin tingle. Taking the back path that led into the woods, she unclipped Oscar’s lead, and he went bounding off into the distance, his long legs gangly and awkward as he ran. Despite being seven years old, he still behaved like a puppy, chasing squirrels and flying through the undergrowth so that he quickly disappeared out of view with Isla only catching the occasional flash of his orange tail darting through the bushes. Luckily, Oscar’s recall was much improved in recent years and she had every faith that he would come straight back to her on the promise of a treat, when she called him. Walking through the woods that Isla knew so well was calming and re-energising, as she reacquainted herself with the old tree stumps and the curve of the forest floor as she followed the well-worn route. As kids, she and Jake would play amongst the trees, making camps and collecting sticks, sometimes spending the whole day in their playground.

Now, the fallen leaves were crisp beneath her feet and she headed off the beaten path to the small dell which had once made an excellent hiding place. As she’d hoped, there on the forest floor, under the canopy of the towering trees, were several large pinecones. Picking one up, she ran her fingers over its woody scales, the sensation satisfyingly tactile. She’d often collected them with her brother and parents, making a game out of it to see who could find the biggest cone. Later, back at the house, they would sometimes spray them gold or silver, but more often than not, they would simply display them in all their natural beauty on the windowsills and around the fireplace.

Isla bent down on her haunches, gathering some cones and placing them in her tote bag, totally focussed on the task, barely giving a passing thought to what Oscar might be up to, when suddenly, her attention was distracted by the sound of crunching leaves behind her. Startled, she spun around, almost toppling over, to find, at her eye level, a pair of men’s thick-soled walking boots on the end of a pair of dark denim jeans. She let out an audible gasp and stumbled to her feet, putting some distance between herself and the man. Taking some steps backwards, she viewed him suspiciously, wondering if she might know him from the village, but on closer inspection, she realised she’d never seen him before. A stranger, loitering about in the woods. The spot was secluded, you needed to venture off the path to find it, so what exactly was he doing here?

‘What are you doing, creeping up on me like that? You frightened me! What do you want?’ Her words came out in a nervous flurry as she felt her heart thumping loudly against her ribcage. ‘Oscar!’ she called, hoping the man might get the message that a big, ferocious dog was coming to her rescue at any moment.

‘Sorry!’ he said, holding up his palms to her. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He bent down to pick something up, half-hidden by the leaves. ‘Ah, here we go!’ He held up a tennis ball to the sky triumphantly, as though that might explain everything. Isla looked around. Maybe it was a ploy to make her let down her guard. There was no sign that the man actually had a dog; he wasn’t holding a lead, or anything else, come to that. The sooner she got out of this isolated spot, the better. She turned, pushing her way through the undergrowth, her breathing panicky and her senses on hyper-alert, relieved when she made it to the main path, hoping she might spot a fellow dog-walker in the distance, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. And Oscar! Where the hell was he when she needed him?

She stood, uncertain which way to go, looking all around her, hoping to spot the dog in the far reaches of the woods. This was all her own fault for losing track of him. For letting him go racing off while she was preoccupied with collecting cones. He’d clearly not been able to find her, hidden in the dell, and had now hot-footed it off to goodness knows where! A terrible sense of foreboding spread over her entire body. Partly due to the thought of how she would explain to her parents that she had lost their beloved family dog. Christmas would almost certainly be cancelled. And partly, the fact that the stranger with the tennis ball was still hanging around, looking as though he had no intention of moving on.

‘Oscar!’ Isla hollered with more urgency this time. ‘Oscar,’ she cried again, feeling and sounding utterly distressed, even to her own ears.

‘Hey, I shouldn’t worry,’ the man was saying now, as though it might have anything to do with him. ‘He’ll be having a wow of a time with Lottie.’

She spun around to look at him properly for the first time, as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her, while at the same time registering his warm and confident voice. At a guess, she would have put him at about six foot two, mid-thirties, with chestnut brown hair just visible from beneath his beanie. His eyes, a similar colour to the escaping strands of hair, were observing her curiously.

Momentarily distracted, she shook her head, trying to get her thoughts in order. She was just about to ask about Lottie when he stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave the most impressive whistle, which ricocheted off the trees and she felt sure must have been heard in the neighbouring village. It obviously did the trick because within seconds, she spotted Oscar hurtling towards her, ears flapping, his tail held high and his jowls wobbling joyously. Alongside him was a four-legged friend who Isla assumed to be Lottie.

‘Good girl,’ the man said, when the dog, a gorgeous red fox Labrador, skidded to a halt in front of him and sat obediently at his feet, looking up at him adoringly. He delved into the pocket of his wool overcoat and pulled out a treat that he handed to the dog, while Oscar, never slow on the uptake, sat down in expectation of the same treatment.

‘Good boy, Oscar,’ the man said, rewarding him with a treat of his own and ruffling the dog’s head as though they were old friends.

Isla noticed one side of his mouth curling into a smile as he lifted his head to face her.

‘Goodness, I’m so sorry. What must you think of me?’ she said, feeling a warmth heat her cheeks, despite the chilly temperature. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve walked Oscar and clearly, he’s made a lot of new friends in my absence.’ She gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Meeting you in the trees like that… well, it took me by surprise, that was all.’ She observed Oscar indulgently who was using the man’s leg as a resting post. ‘Looks to me as though you and Oscar are on first-name terms?’

His half-smile turned into a full-on grin that creased the corners of his eyes. Isla could see now that he was just a normal guy walking his dog when she’d been thinking all sorts of terrible things about him.

‘Yes. Oscar and Lottie are best buddies. I’m guessing you must be Isla,’ he said, fixing her with a questioning stare.

‘Yes! How…?’ Her words trailed away within moments as everything fell into place in her mind. She hadn’t really needed to ask.

‘Diana talks about you all the time,’ he added, immediately confirming her suspicions. ‘She’s clearly very proud of you and everything you’ve achieved.’

Isla groaned. ‘Oh goodness! I must apologise for my mother. I hope she doesn’t completely bore you talking about the family?’

‘Not at all. Diana is absolutely charming. We always stop for a chat. The dogs insist on it. I’m Guy, by the way.’

‘Nice to meet you, Guy, and I can only apologise again for earlier.’ Isla clipped Oscar back on the lead to curtail any ideas he might have of running off again with Lottie.

‘No problem. Give my regards to your mum. See you again sometime,’ he said with a casual wave as he turned to walk in the opposite direction.

As Isla went on her way, thinking about the meeting with Guy, her cheeks stung with embarrassment at the way she’d acted in front of him. What must he think of her? Perhaps it might be better if she spent the rest of the Christmas holiday carefully avoiding him.