Page 51 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

Henry started humming the tune to ‘White Christmas’ and Isla’s face lit up in glee, her admiration turning to awe at the sound of his deep, melodic tones. She quickly joined in, singing the words in harmony, and soon they were serenading each other as they walked arm in arm, falling into a hug once they reached the end of the song.

‘That was brilliant! What a fabulous double act we make,’ said Isla, revelling in the moment.

When they reached the park, they both remarked on how busy it was with children sledding down the hill and families making snowmen, a general air of goodwill radiating around them.

As they walked along the path, narrowly avoiding snowballs being thrown by kids, Isla leaned into Henry, unable to keep her news to herself any longer.

‘Guess what, Henry?’

He turned to look at her quizzically.

‘The shop will be staying open for the foreseeable future and I will be running it. Isn’t that the most amazing news? I am so happy about it.’

‘Really? Well, that is marvellous news, and exactly what we were all hoping would happen. That’s the best Christmas present we could have received, and I do hope that means you might forgive me now for betraying your confidence.’

‘What?’ Now it was Isla’s turn to stop and look at Henry for answers. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I know I promised not to tell anyone about your job situation, but when I was talking to Jonathan and Miriam about the bookshop, it was obvious to me how sad they were about having to sell up. I suggested they ask you if you might be interested in taking the shop on. Jon agreed it would be the ideal solution, but he hadn’t wanted to say anything because he knew how much you loved your job in London and he didn’t want to put any undue pressure on you. So… I might have let slip that you had actually lost your job and were showing no interest in accepting the new one.’

‘Really?’ She looked at Henry, aghast. ‘You told them that? When was this?’

‘Oh, about a week ago,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘So, before they took me out to lunch that day,’ she said, more to herself than to Henry, who had his head down, trying to avoid the snowflakes that were swirling around them. Isla shook her head, disbelieving, as she concentrated on keeping them both upright as they trudged onwards. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, looking at Henry in an entirely new light now. She was trying to recall the sequence of events and the turn of the conversation.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ Henry asked her.

‘No. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.’

‘Best not to worry about the finer details then,’ he said, giving a sideways glance at her, a glint in his eye. ‘It was all done for the greater good and as far as I can tell, everyone seems very pleased with the outcome.’

Isla was still mulling it over when they reached Henry’s bungalow.

‘Are you coming in for a cuppa, young lady?’

‘No, I should head back before the weather gets any worse. Thanks for everything, Henry,’ she said, still puzzled, ‘and Merry Christmas!’

‘Merry Christmas,’ he replied, waving to her from his front door.

It was only as she walked back down the path that everything slotted into place. Jonathan and Miriam had known at their lunch together that Isla had already lost her job in London because Henry had told them so. The Finches had done a very good job at convincing Isla that they had no other option but to sell the business, when in fact, they’d never wanted that outcome in the first place. All the time they’d been hoping that Isla would suggest taking over the running of the shop and had been waiting for her to come to that decision herself. It certainly explained why Miriam had been acting oddly that day, asking leading questions about Isla’s non-existent job, and why they had been so quick to accept her impassioned offer this morning.

She couldn’t believe it. Henry, Jonathan and Miriam had been working in cahoots. She paused a moment, there on the pavement outside the park, to reflect on everything that had happened, chuckling as she held her face up to the snow, relishing the sensation of the cold upon her skin.

She had been hoodwinked, outwitted and manipulated by a bunch of cunning septuagenarians, and quite honestly, she didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, she couldn’t have been more delighted that she had.

32

Isla hurried back through the park as fast as she could go, which wasn’t terribly fast when she had to hoick her feet up out of the snow with every step. Her hat was pulled down over her ears and her hands were dug into her pockets, but still the biting cold penetrated through her many layers of clothing. She was lost in her own thoughts when she felt a thud on the side of her head and realised, with a sense of embarrassment, she’d been hit by a snowball. The cold, wet sensation as it slid down the side of her face was stinging, in every possible way.

She surveyed the area around her, her senses on high alert, and noticed a couple of boys of about ten years old, laughing uproariously. Worse still, they were on their haunches, loading up, packing together even bigger weapons by the looks of things, about to launch a two-pronged attack.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ she announced, unsure where her fighting spirit had come from. She bent down and started to build a snowball but it was harder than it looked as the snow was soft and powdery and no sooner had she pulled it together in her hands than it disintegrated through her gloved fingers. The lads obviously had a better knack than her because snowballs were flying past her ears. She realised she was no match for the boys so she admitted defeat, holding her hands up, calling for a truce and walked on, laughing, pleased to be out of the firing range. As she went on her way, focussing into the distance, she spotted a figure at the other end of the path, and her stomach flipped, recognising the tall, rangy frame and the broad set of shoulders. She was definitely able to pick Guy out across a crowded park even when he was disguised in heavy winter wear. There was something about the way he held himself, tall and proud, and the distinctive cut of his jaw that made him easily recognisable even at a distance. Her heart was beating faster than ever, whether from the effort of trudging through the snow or seeing Guy, she wasn’t sure, but coming face to face with him confirmed that he really did have the most wonderful and surprising effect on her.

‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ She beamed at him.

‘Looking for you,’ he replied with that smile that was so endearing. ‘Although I see you’ve been busy terrorising the local children.’

‘They started it,’ she said petulantly.