Chapter 5

FIVE

MONDAY 4TH DECEMBER

‘Looking forward to this evening?' Ed asked as they were clearing away their breakfast dishes later that morning.

Florrie had been excited about the Christmas window reveal since they'd first planned it, especially with Jack Playforth agreeing to give a reading. It had created a great buzz amongst the bookshop's clientele. But the phone call had tarnished her excitement slightly, not to mention it had made her feel tired thanks to the hours of lying awake that had followed.

‘I so am.' She turned and smiled at him, noting the air of tiredness that lingered in his expression, though she held back on commenting. ‘I think your gorgeous window displays are going to generate a lot of excitement.'

‘Thanks.' He smiled, kissing her cheek. ‘I just hope everything works properly. We don't want it to fall flat and be a massive anti-climax when Jack flicks the switches. Imagine that. Jack goes, "Ta-da!" and… absolutely nothing happens,' he said, chuckling.

Florrie laughed, too. ‘Even without all the bits that move, it's still pretty special – it could never be an anti-climax. And, anyway, Jack will handle it well if the electrics decide not to play ball. He's brilliant at making light of a situation and ad-libbing.'

‘True, he's a down-to-earth bloke.'

‘And Jean's so thrilled he's doing it – the opening, I mean.' Florrie smiled fondly as she thought of her friend. Jean Davenport, who was in her seventies, was Jack's birth mother whom he'd found when he'd come to the town searching for his long-lost family. She'd also been an old and very dear friend of Mr and Mrs H as well as being a loyal customer of The Happy Hartes Bookshop for many years. In the time she'd worked there, Florrie had grown very fond of Jean, and had got to know her well, particularly her taste in books – romance with a hint of mystery. She took great pleasure in recommending new authors to Jean, as she did with all her regular customers.

‘Yeah, I'll bet she is,' Ed said flatly.

Florrie was instantly alerted to his change of tone. She stole a look at him. ‘You okay?'

He turned to her. There was no doubting the troubled look that had drifted into his eyes. ‘Yeah, s'just…'

She waited a moment for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she said, ‘It's just what?' Though she didn't really need to ask, she knew exactly which path his thoughts had taken.

Ed pushed his lips together as if deliberating what to say. Just when Florrie was beginning to think he was never going to answer, he said, ‘S'just, I was thinking about the call from my dad, that's all.' His voice tailed off, as if he regretted saying anything.

‘Oh, right.' Florrie's heart plummeted. She hoped merely mentioning Jean's name hadn't acted as a reminder of the call. ‘Have you heard any more from him?' She'd spotted him fish his phone out of his bedside table as he was getting out of bed earlier, and turn it on.

Ed sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding. ‘He's texted a couple of times. I haven't had time to call him back. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, actually.'

Florrie couldn't blame Ed for that. All the same, she felt to avoid his father's calls and texts would only serve to prolong the agony. It hadn't escaped her attention that, once they'd landed downstairs, he'd turned his phone off and pushed it into the drawer in the kitchen dresser. She still couldn't shake the feeling that Peter Harte had something new to grumble about, but she hadn't managed to fathom out what it could be.

‘Do you think getting it over and done with would help?' she asked cautiously, aware she'd already suggested this. ‘You know, grasp the nettle, get the call out of the way. Then you could maybe get it off your mind. And you never know, whatever it is that's rattled your dad might be nowhere near as bad as what you're expecting.' Who are you trying to kid?

‘Or it could be a whole lot worse,' Ed said darkly. ‘Anyway' – he injected a brighter tone into his voice – ‘what were we talking about before?' His not-so-subtle change of subject was difficult to ignore, but for the sake of harmony, Florrie took his lead.

‘We were just saying how we're raring to go for the Christmas countdown.' She flashed him a wide smile, the change of topic instantly boosting her mood. ‘I can't wait for our customers to see it all!'

Ed couldn't help but laugh. ‘If you're this excited for Christmas at the age of thirty-three, I can't even imagine what you were like when you were a child.'

Relief washed over Florrie; they were back on track.

‘I think I drove my parents potty.' She giggled. ‘Having said that, the pair of them are pretty Christmas crazy, too, so maybe I get it from them.' She released a happy sigh. ‘I can remember the first Christmas they decorated the Wendy house Dad had built for me in the back garden. I was seven years old. They really went to town: a wreath on the door, Christmas tree in the window, fairy lights hung from the roof, and a host of festive decorations inside. They even included a little electric stove. It was awesome, so Christmassy.' She chuckled. ‘They told me Santa's elves had decorated it as a reward for me being a good girl all year – I'd been given a few awards for my reading and writing and Mum and Dad said they were very proud of me, plus I'd been made a librarian of the junior school library – got a badge to prove it, too.' She gave a feigned superior expression.

‘That, I can believe.' He grinned at her. ‘Sounds like an awesome memory,' he said softly.

‘Oh, it is.' Her eyes shone as she was transported back to the day, the twinkling lights, the smell of woodsmoke and frosty air vividly coming to life in her mind. It suddenly struck her that Ed never talked about things he'd done as a child; fun days with his parents. From what she could gather, such things had been few and far between. In fact, he'd told her very little about his childhood. The only thing she'd managed to glean was a sense of loneliness and self-sufficiency. But surely he must have had some fond memories of Christmas.

‘How about you? Did you get giddy with excitement waiting for the big man to drop down the chimney?' she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

‘No, not really. Christmas was never a big deal with my parents.' He gave a shrug. ‘Wasn't that much different to every other day, apart from that the row they had was invariably bigger and more explosive than their everyday variety, no doubt thanks to the extra booze they'd consumed. I usually spent it in my bedroom, keeping myself below the radar, if you like, out of the firing line.'

‘Oh, Ed.' Florrie felt a great pang of sympathy land with a thud in her chest. What child spends Christmas day on their own in their bedroom? And what parent lets that happen? ‘That's so sad, I'm really sorry to hear that.'

‘I didn't tell you that to get your sympathy, it's just how it was. I never felt sorry for myself. I've always been okay in my own company.' He gave a shrug. ‘And I certainly didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me.'

Florrie felt a swell of emotion. How could his parents be so selfish? So wrapped up in their own self-centred lives? Wasn't it innate to want to nurture your children? Make their days happy. Get joy from seeing them laugh and have fun. That was how her parents had been. Her friends' parents, too. Stella's mum had brought her up on her own and had worked her fingers to the bone to ensure her daughter didn't go without. And Jasmine, a single mum too, she juggled three jobs so Zak and Chloe had the same as their friends. It was all borne out of love. She recalled her mum telling her that it filled her heart with happiness to see Florrie enjoying herself, that it was the best feeling in the world.

‘You'll understand that when you have kiddies of your own, sweetheart. It's the same for your dad, too. We both want the best for you and we both want you to be happy. We'd do anything for you – I'd lay down my life for you.' Her mum's words regularly came back to her.

‘Oh, don't say that, Mum.'

‘Well, it's true, lovey. Mind, I'm not sure we could get your dad to give up his eighties music night, so you'd probably best not ask him to do that. I reckon it'd be a step too far,' Paula had said with a giggle.

Back in the moment, Florrie bit down on the tears that threatened. She rushed over to Ed, throwing her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

‘Hey, what's this all about?' he asked, pushing himself up and hugging her back.

‘I hate the fact that you've got no happy Christmas memories from your childhood. Everyone should have some – it's not right that you don't.'

He laughed. ‘It's really no big deal.'

‘Well, I think it is. And I've decided that's all about to change,' she said, an idea rushing into her mind.

‘It is?' he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

‘It is. Your festive memory bank is seriously in deficit and I intend to remedy that. From now on I'm going to make sure you have loads of happy festive memories to choose from. A whole selection of them.' She squeezed him tight, inhaling his warm familiar scent that was guaranteed to make her heart leap. ‘I'm about to embark on "The Happy Christmas Memories Project". I suggest you prepare yourself for a festive onslaught,' she said, making a mental note to text her friends as soon as possible; it would be great if they could be involved, too.

Smiling tenderly, he took her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes, setting butterflies loose in her stomach. ‘Florrie Appleton, I don't know what the heck I've done to deserve you, but I thank the day you decided you could put up with me and my quirks.'

His words melted her heart. She gave a mock weary sigh and rolled her eyes. ‘Admittedly, it's pretty tough, but I suppose it helps that you're kind of easy on the eye.'

Ed let out a hoot of laughter. ‘I'm not so sure about that. And I never had you down as shallow, Miss Appleton.' He pressed a kiss to her lips, his stubble brushing against her skin and sending her pulse rate soaring.

Gerty, determined not to be left out of things, heaved herself up and pushed her solid body between them, her tail thudding against the floor, amber eyes peering up at them.

Ed's gaze switched from Florrie to Gerty. ‘Now then, Gerty-Girl, I'm not saying you're a passion-killer, but I'll have you know your timing could only be described as pants right now – you've just interrupted a five-star kiss.'

Gerty wagged her tail some more, making Florrie giggle. ‘Ahh, bless, she thinks you're saying lovely things to her.'

‘I know.' Ed's gaze softened. ‘But we do still think you're very special, pants timing or no pants timing.' He smiled down at the Labrador and tickled her under the chin.

‘We sure do,' said Florrie, ruffling Gerty's velvety ears.

‘Getting back to what we were talking about before you tempted me off topic with your kisses… What I was going to say was that I've already got some great Christmas memories. Our first Christmas together last year. Your mum and dad made me feel so welcome. I can't ever remember being so happy on a Christmas Day. As for the Christmas dinner!' Ed rubbed his stomach. ‘Your mum certainly delivers the most amazing Yorkshire portions. I don't think I've ever eaten so much delicious food in one day. And her roast potatoes… oh, wow !' He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Yeah, that was an awesome day.'

‘You can still say that even though you witnessed my dad's dancing?'

‘Especially cos I witnessed your dad's dancing. I've never seen anyone put so much enthusiasm into bustin' some shapes.' He gave a hearty chuckle.

Bustin' some shapes. Florrie couldn't help but laugh at the description of her dad's energetic attempts at dancing to the eighties playlist he'd blasted out that Christmas Day, fuelled by a glass or two of wine – well, every Christmas Day as far back as she could remember, actually. She'd share Ed's "bustin' some shapes" comment with her mum later so they could enjoy a chuckle together. Everything Charlie Appleton did, he did with great enthusiasm and his dancing was no exception.

‘He's a great bloke, your dad. Your mum, too.'

‘What? Are you putting my mum in the same bonkers category as my dad's dancing? She'd be mortified!'

Ed chuckled some more. ‘No, definitely not. I think your dad's dancing is in its own unique category there.'

‘You're not wrong.' Florrie giggled.

‘I think what I'm trying to say but going right around the houses to say it, is that I can see why you're the person you are.'

‘See why I'm…? Ugh! Now my brain's beginning to hurt. I haven't a clue what you're trying to tell me.' Though Florrie frowned, she had a hint of mischief in her eyes.

‘You're wonderful because of your parents – how they've been with you, brought you up. They're really decent folk and have passed on their good values to you. But you're also wonderful just…' He gave a shrug. ‘Just because you're you.'

‘And what do you reckon Jasmine would have to say about that, I wonder?' asked Florrie, feeling the heat of a blush his words had triggered.

‘I don't think what Jazz would have to say could be repeated in the presence of such sensitive ears.' Ed nodded in Gerty's direction.

‘I think you're right.' Florrie giggled.

‘Anyway, if I'm not mistaken, I think we have some kisses to catch up on.' Ed's eyes twinkled at her.

‘I do believe you're right.' Florrie felt a flutter in her stomach.

‘Well then, what are we waiting for?' he asked, before getting to his feet and scooping her into his arms, brushing his lips against hers.