Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

‘There you go but mind out, it's hot.' Ed carefully handed Florrie a mug of tea in her new festive mug. She'd bought one for each of them from the gift shop at the same time she'd picked up the snow globe for Ed.

‘Thanks.' She took it, blowing across the surface before taking a sip. ‘Mmm. I'm ready for this.'

‘I can run you down to the Jolly, if you like? It's freezing out there tonight and it was threatening to snow when I stuck my head out the door a minute ago.'

It was just gone half past six on Friday evening. It had been another busy day at the bookshop after a frantically busy week, the window reveal and Jack's reading having set the pace. They hadn't been home long from work and had flopped at the table in the little kitchen of Samphire Cottage as soon as they'd burst through the door, with Ed only dragging himself out of his seat to make a pot of tea. Gerty had wasted no time in curling up in her bed by the radiator and was now snoring contentedly.

Throughout the course of the day, Florrie had made a determined effort to keep Dodgy Dick and his antics out of her thoughts. It would seem Ed was of the same mind – or at least that's what Florrie told herself – since whenever she'd mentioned the Christmas tree in the doorway incident, he'd batted it away, telling her not to dwell on it. His response had been similar when she'd tiptoed gently into asking if he'd spoken to his father. But there was no denying he'd been distracted by both matters, just as she had. On several occasions during the day, she'd caught him wearing a troubled expression. It had sent a jolt of alarm spiralling through her. He'd shaken it off as soon as he'd sensed her gaze on him, fixing a smile to his face and striking up a breezy conversation. On top of that, there'd been multiple times when he'd disappeared to take a call or deal with a text message, returning with a distant look in his eyes. Something told her it had nothing to do with their plans for converting the flat. He might be trying to protect her from whatever was going on, but he didn't seem to realise his lack of communication was frustrating her and only amplified her concerns.

It was beginning to feel like they were veering back and forth between laughing and having fun, and making plans for the future, to fretting about what his parents were up to or what Dodgy Dick would do next. It was difficult to keep up with, and emotionally draining.

That aside, Florrie was relieved they hadn't been troubled by any other unpleasantness after the outdoor Christmas tree had been ripped down, and she'd tried to convince herself it had been nothing to do with the roguish businessman, and was simply some random act carried out by a reveller who'd had too much to drink during the festive season. But her sense of reasoning told a different story, reinforced by Ed's old habit of clamming up.

She was also relieved that their conversation about the tearoom and the cost implications hadn't dampened his mood about the project. In fact, it appeared to have done the opposite and stoked his enthusiasm further, with him researching the type of kitchen they'd need and the cost it would involve. He'd told her he planned to spend the time she was out doing more research, digging further.

‘I might take you up on that offer of a lift to the Jolly, if you don't mind, that is.' Florrie pulled her thoughts back to the present. ‘Especially with how much I ache after our escapades on the ice yesterday, and I still feel like I've had a kick up the backside.' She rubbed the offending area. The inky bruise was the size of a large grapefruit, covering a generous proportion of her right buttock.

Ed chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. And besides, I wouldn't offer if I minded. Can't have you hobbling down to the seafront, eating into your time with the lasses.' Smiling dark-blue eyes peered over his mug at her. ‘It's been a full-on day, and the walk back home was bitterly cold, so it'll be even worse the closer you get to the bottom prom. And from what Bear said earlier, I gather he's happy to drop everyone off in the Landie when you're done tonight. Seems only fair I do the outbound run.'

Friday night was Florrie's night out with her friends. They'd been meeting at the Jolly for years and it was strictly girls only, though Ed had managed to wangle a pass one night. It was safe to say that had been a one-off. As a rule, Florrie walked to the pub, scooping up Jasmine on her way. Stella, whose stylish new apartment was further along the seafront and not on their route made her own way there, as did Maggie who came from the opposite side of Micklewick Bay, while Lark lived a stone's throw away from the Jolly at Seashell Cottage on Smugglers Row. All the same, Bear never minded dropping everyone off if the weather was inclement.

‘That way, you'll have more time to chill before you set off.' Ed smiled at her, his eyes shining in the soft light.

‘Sounds good,' she said, smiling back. ‘It'd save me a good half hour, and it'd be quite nice not to have to rush around before I head out, not that I could do much rushing if I wanted to with my aching legs.'

‘Tell me about it!' Ed laughed. ‘We can pick Jazz up en route, Stella too, if she fancies.'

‘Yeah, I'd better send them a quick text, let them know they can chill a bit. Jazz'll be especially pleased about that – she's always chasing her tail, poor lass.'

By the time they were ready to set off, the snow that had been forecast for Micklewick Bay had started to fall in tiny flakes, dancing frenetically in the car's headlights. ‘It's watery stuff this, I very much doubt it'll settle,' said Ed, as he flicked the windscreen wipers on and put the car into gear.

‘Good. Much as I love snow, I hope it doesn't, not just yet at least. We're expecting too many deliveries and there's Jenna Johnstone's author reading coming up next Wednesday. If it could just wait until the night before Christmas Eve, then it can do its worst.'

Ed chuckled as he negotiated the junction at the bottom of the road. ‘I doubt the local kids will be keen to wait that long. They'll be itching to have snowball fights, go sledging and build snowmen.'

His words triggered a flood of memories. Florrie and her pals had been ecstatic one winter when the school's central heating boiler had broken down and they'd been sent home. They'd all trooped down to the gardens in their wellies and padded waterproofs and had spent their days sledging and having a whale of a time. They'd built giant snowmen, rolling huge balls of snow that grew bigger and bigger until they'd formed the shape of a head and a body, hunting around for anything suitable they could find to make a nose, eyes and a smile. At the end of the day, they'd gone home wet through, shattered and frozen to the core, but she wouldn't have changed it for the world.

The thought of these happy memories gave her a little prompt: The Happy Christmas Memories Project! She needed to focus her attention on planning for that instead of worrying about Ed's dad and Dodgy Dick. She turned to Ed. ‘So did you love building snowmen and going sledging when you were a little lad, then?'

‘Much as I hate to sound pathetic, I'm afraid I have to say I've never built a snowman in my life, I've never been sledging, and I have no memories of having a snowball fight.' The sleet was now driving at the windscreen and he increased the speed of the wipers.

Florrie could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘You're honestly telling me you've got to the age of thirty-five and you've never built a snowman or gone sledging?'

He stole a look at her and shrugged his shoulders, pressing his lips into a smile, the glow of streetlights reaching into the car. ‘'Fraid not. It's cos we were often in sunnier climes over winter, what with my parents' love of travel, so the opportunity never presented itself.'

‘What? No way!' Florrie said. ‘But building snowmen, sledging and snowball fights are a rite of passage round here – all kids have to do it.'

Ed chuckled. ‘Well, I'm not strictly from round here, so I suppose that gives me a bit of an excuse.'

‘Not in my book, it doesn't, Edward Harte, and it's one I intend to rectify as soon as we get a decent covering.' She gave his arm a determined prod, making him chuckle. ‘Maybe I should wish for more snow instead of less, then on Sunday when we're off, we'd get the chance to put that right.'

‘You sound pretty determined.' She could hear the smile in his voice.

‘You'd better believe it. All we need is a couple of inches of the white stuff and we're in business, and if the forecasts are anything to go by, we won't be disappointed. You'd better watch out, my snowball throwing skills might be a tad rusty but being small always used to mean I could sneak in and catch my opponents when they were least expecting it.'

‘Sounds to me like you're throwing down the gauntlet, Florrie Appleton.'

‘That, Edward Harte, is because I am.'

‘In that case, let's hope our ice skating-induced aches and pains have disappeared by then, or neither of us will be able to move very fast.'

‘Pfft! There's no way I'm going to let a pulled muscle get in the way of whooping your ass at a snowball fight.'

‘Challenge accepted!'

‘Mwahaha! You've no idea what you're letting yourself in for.' She gave a theatrical chuckle, rubbing her hands together.

Ed let out a hoot of laughter. ‘I can't wait!'