Page 37 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

‘Of course not,’ Imogen said brightly. ‘And Darkness and Terror are big. A playful push could have knocked you on your bum. Now,’ she took Lucy’s hand, ‘shall we go and get luxury hot chocolate from Jason?’

Daisy shook her head. ‘I have to take the dogs back. And the goat. Then I have to tell Harry that Felix is roaming the village whenever he wants.’

‘OK,’ Imogen said. ‘Let us know about the committee meeting. We’ll bring snacks.’

‘Will we?’ Dexter said with a smile. ‘Who’s going to make those, then?’

‘I wonder.’ Imogen stretched up and kissed him on the nose. ‘I can help.’

‘Good.’ He wrapped his arm around her waist, and Daisy bent down to remove a bit of seaweed from Felix’s fur. Had she ever kissed Stefan playfully on the nose? She couldn’t remember.

She said goodbye to her beach companions and, making sure Felix was with her, climbed up to the cliff path and walked to the gate in the fence. She was glad she’d found the rock pools, but the moment with Darkness hadn’t been her finest, and she wondered again who had chosen to send her such a spooky book.

She thought of Avery, and his aversion to Harry’s pets. Had he seen a huge, terrifying dog roaming the Norfolk countryside, or had his phobia come from a more straightforward event? Dexter and Imogen had exchanged a look when she’d mentioned hell hounds, and now her mind was going down all sorts of weird, implausible routes. She needed to go and sort out her emails; focus on something that would ground her. She also needed to tell Harry that his fences meant absolutely nothing when it came to his ridiculous pet goat.

Chapter Twelve

‘Did you know that there’s a Norfolk legend called the Black Shuck?’ Daisy asked her passenger. She and Sophie had borrowed Harry’s Land Rover to drive to Norwich.

‘I remember you mentioning it to Harry the other day, but I hadn’t heard of it. What is it again?’ Sophie had wanted to come along to get some notebook supplies and some card to make the dance cards for the ball.

‘It’s a big black hell hound,’ Daisy said. ‘If you see it, then you or someone you love is destined to die in the next twenty-four hours. Or, depending on which version of the legend you read, it’ll definitely be you that dies.’

‘It’s not massively threatening, then,’ Sophie said evenly, ‘if your fate is entirely dependent on which version of the story you happen to read.’

‘But that’s how all legends work, isn’t it?’ She waited at the junction, indicating to turn right across the traffic. The drive to Norwich took them through beautiful countryside: fields that were gold or grey depending on how much sun there was, wind-battered trees, their outlines stark against the sky. Hedgerows harboured flocks of finches and the occasional partridge ran down the middle of the road.

Daisy couldn’t count the times that, when she was growing up, she’d watched hares boxing in fields that shimmered amber as the sun went down. But it wasn’t the time of year for boxing hares, and one thing she’d never seen prancing through the countryside was a huge black dog with glowing red eyes.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Sophie angled her body towards Daisy’s. ‘Have you seen something strange? Mistingham is bursting with ghost stories, but you’re the last person I’d imagine getting sucked in by one.’

‘I don’t know why I’m telling you.’ Daisy tapped her fingers against the rugged steering wheel. ‘Avery is terrified of dogs. I don’t think he even likes Clifton. And then, on the beach the other day, Darkness jumped up at me, surprising me, and when I mentioned hell hounds, Dexter and Imogen exchanged a look, like they knew something.’

‘Really?’ Sophie frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound like them.’

Daisy sighed. ‘Maybe they were having a silent conversation about how kooky Harry’s sister has turned out to be, when everyone thought I was a cold fish.’ She hadn’t told Sophie about the book. She’d mentioned it to Dexter and Imogen because she needed to explain why she’d reacted so badly to Darkness, but she wanted to investigate more before she confided in anyone else.

‘You are not a cold fish,’ Sophie assured her.

‘You thought I was before I muscled into your life.’

‘You didn’t muscle in.’

Daisy laughed. ‘You’re far too nice for your own good.’

‘I’m telling you how it is. I love having you in Mistingham. I’m excited about the ball. I’m glad you’re making friends.’

‘You make it sound like I’m a child you’re fostering, sad and reclusive with no social life.’ Sophie didn’t reply immediately, and the words hung between them. ‘Maybe that’s how I feel about myself.’

She saw Sophie shrug out of the corner of her eye. ‘Then keep going with the friends thing. Talk to everyone you meet, rope anyone who’ll listen into ball prep. You’ve been dealt such a big blow, and I know it takes time to feel like yourself again, but do things that feel uncomfortable. The more you do them, the more you’ll realize they’re not actually that scary.’

‘That’s good advice. Even if it is a little bit scary.’ She gave Sophie a quick grin, then focused on the road as they left the sea and the fields behind and got closer to the city.

They agreed to meet up in a couple of hours, once Daisy’s meeting with Lars was done. She needed this job to be a success, and she wanted enough time with her client to progress things while she was only staying an hour from Norwich.

She walked through the city which, only a few days from December, was sparkling with Christmas anticipation. A light tunnel had been set up and was twinkling brightly in the grey day. Groups of students and friends, mums with pushchairs and toddlers strolled through its centre, exclaiming in delight as the colours shifted from pink to blue to gold, as the LEDs transformed into reindeer shapes, dancing over their heads. Daisy stopped to look at window displays, her critiquing instinct inbuilt, giving each one a score out of ten. White Company came top, its palette monochrome as usual, creams and dove greys, the candles and jumpers and blankets interwoven with a single thread of delicate pink lights.

She was ten minutes early for her meeting, so she went back to Jarrolds, admiring the elaborate Santa setup in one window, the cheery figure sitting in a green velvet armchair surrounded by Lego structures, Jellycat toys and old-fashioned jars of boiled sweets.