by Kate Hewitt
She might be disappointed that things with Simon had fizzled out before they’d even started, but so what? She still had a lot to look forward to in her life.
Olivia was spared from dwelling on it by the first rush of customers—the little shop was packed out as soon as Mallory flung open the doors, and Olivia was kept busy filling cups with mulled wine, replenishing trays, and manning the till. She’d kept the prices down to encourage custom—a pound for a cup of mulled wine and fifty pence per baked item, and she was pleased her strategy seemed to be working, as people eagerly scoffed her offerings and took the invitations from the table by the door.
She’d told herself not to keep an eye out for Simon, and yet some contrary part of her still waited—and hoped. He was, predictably, a no-show, but it helped that Ava and Jace, Alice and Henry, and Harriet and Richard all showed up, pitching in as needed, and buying plenty of pies and cakes.
“Whatever’s left, I’ll buy from you,” Harriet promised. “I’ve got some of Richard’s school colleagues coming over for a drinks do and I can’t be bothered to bake. Besides yours are much better than anything I could manage.”
“It’s a deal,” Olivia answered. “But I’m hoping there won’t be anything left over.”
A little before six o’clock everyone filed out of the shop for the lighting of the Christmas tree; Olivia had been planning on staying back but Ellie protested that she should come and close the shop for a few minutes, and then her mum insisted she’d stay.
“I can keep things going here for a little while,” she said firmly. “And I don’t fancy walking on those uneven cobbles in the dark. Go on, Olivia. Have some fun. I’ll enjoy being in charge for a little bit.”
“All right, then.” Olivia untied her apron and grabbed her coat, glad to see her mother looking a bit more lively. “Thanks, Mum.”
Outside people were heading in a steady stream towards the village green at the bottom of the high street. The air was full of excitement, children skipping ahead and parents laughing, everyone bundled up in bright coats and mittens, hats and scarves. The air felt crisp and cold, with a hint of the promised snow. As Olivia was pulled along with Ellie, Oliver, Abby, and Mallory, she found herself getting into the festive spirit of the thing.
She’d been so busy running around trying to make the shop look Christmassy and inviting that she hadn’t actually had much time to feel Christmassy herself. Now, digging her hands deep into the pockets of her coat as she traded cheerful quips with Mallory and Abby, a happy excitement burst in her heart like a sunbeam or a snowflake. It really was the season.
On the village green everyone assembled around the massive tree; with a very small pang of uneasy guilt, Olivia noted the food stall that was doing a fairly brisk business in the same sort of fare she was offering back at the shop, with all proceeds to benefit the village cricket club. All her proceeds were going directly into her pocket. Still, her shop was halfway down the high street, a good distance from the green, and she decided there were enough pedestrians for both of them.
“Are we ready to get this party started?” someone shouted, and someone official—the head teacher of the school, Mallory said—made a big show of turning on the switch. A second later the tree lit up with an electric rainbow of colours, and the fairy lights spangling the high street lit up as well, making it look like something out of a fairy tale.
“All it needs to do is snow and everything will be perfect,” Ellie said with a smile. She tilted her face to the sky, scanning for snowflakes. “It’s certainly cold enough.”
“Yes…” Olivia gazed around the crowded green, smiling at the sight of so many happy families, couples hand in hand…and she was happy, too. She might need a bit of forceful reminding of the fact, but it was still the truth. Her oh-so-brief fascination with Simon Blacklock had been nothing more than a blip.
And then she saw him. Her heart didn’t so much as tumble this time as freeze, suspended in her chest, as she watched him talking and laughing with someone she couldn’t see. The mystery woman from Sunday in the bright, jaunty coat?
Olivia tried to look away, but somehow she couldn’t. She watched as he a raked a long-fingered hand through his hair, nodding at whatever his conversational partner was saying. And then a little tousle-haired boy tackled his knees.
Olivia sucked in a hard breath as Simon reached down to unwrap the boy’s arms from around his legs and then hoist him onto one hip in an easy, natural movement. The boy looked to be only four or five…and even from across the green, Olivia could see how much he looked like Simon. Dark curly hair, an impish expression, and clearly a close relationship, judging from the way the tyke was snuggling in.
Oh, she was so stupid. And yet…before that woman had accosted him in the church, it had seemed as if he was interested in her. Or had she completely misread, well, everything, and he’d just been kindly offering her a drink?
Obviously that was what had happened, because she didn’t think Simon was a player, and it looked more and more like he had a family. Well. She’d already told herself it was a blip. Now she had extra, unneeded confirmation.
She was finally about to turn away when Simon glanced in her direction—and his gaze latched on to hers. For a few endless seconds Olivia felt as if the world had shrunk to this one shared look, everything around her fading out—the chatter, the lights, the tinny Christmas carols coming from the loudspeakers.
Then she forced herself to look away—and more importantly, to walk away. If she’d been feeling a bit more self-possessed, she would have gone over to Simon and said hello, let him introduce her to his family. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite there yet, and this was the best she could manage.
“Blip,” she muttered under her breath. “Very, very small blip.”
She walked blindly through the crowds, barely aware of where she was going, only needing some space and privacy to gather her wayward emotions together and tell them to settle down. She was halfway towards the church’s covered lych gate, thankfully shrouded in shadow, when she heard someone calling her name.
“Olivia! Olivia, wait!”
Olivia turned, blinking in the gloomy darkness, to see Simon striding towards her. Her mind buzzed blankly as he came closer, stopping in front of her with a huff of breath.
“Hey.” He smiled with a wryness that was both familiar and confusing. He was looking at her as he had before, as if he hadn’t left her hanging on Sunday, and then not come to the shop for the last three days. But of course she was overreacting. He was a stranger. She had to keep remembering that.
“I just wanted to say…” He hesitated, looking uncertain and a little embarrassed. “I saw you across the green and I realised what it might look like…that is, who I was with…” He trailed off and Olivia just waited, curious as to what he was trying to say and having no idea what to say herself. “The thing is,” he blurted, “that little boy…he’s not mine.”
Okay, that was unexpected. Olivia tried to formulate a response but could only come up with “Right…”
“If you were wondering. And if you weren’t, then I realise this conversation is exceedingly awkward and well, odd.” He let out an uncertain laugh. “I just mean, you might have got the wrong end of the stick… I would understand if you had…when you saw me. And I didn’t want you to think that…well, that I had a child. Or you know, other…things.”
“Okay,” Olivia said after a moment. She still wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to communicate, but she felt the tiniest bit hopeful that it was something good.
“I’m really explaining myself badly,” Simon said with a rueful shake of his head. “All I’m trying to say is…I’m not…well, I’m single.” Even in the darkness Olivia could see how much he was blushing, and now she probably was, as well. Her face was certainly starting to feel fiery, because surely there could only be one reason why he was telling her all this?
“Who were you with on Sunday?” she asked, half-wishing she hadn’t mentioned Su
nday, and yet still wanting to know.
“Sunday…” He frowned, and then she saw the exact moment when he remembered what had happened, and who he was with, just as she could tell the memory pained him. It was there in the quick flinch, the shadow that flitted through his eyes. “That was Bella, my sister. After we talked, I looked around for you, but you were gone.”
Olivia nodded, not wanting to explain, and not totally trusting Simon’s seemingly simple explanation. His sister? It made sense; they had a similar look about them, and yet… Olivia had a gut instinct that it was a little more complicated than that. The exchange she’d witnessed had seemed so intense, so emotional.
She decided to take a step back, figuratively if not physically. “Well, thanks for the explanation, but I’d really better be getting back to the shop.”
“Let me walk with you.”
She shrugged, not wanting to argue the point, and not sure how she felt about this enigmatic man. On Sunday she’d felt, rightly or wrongly, as if she—they—had been on the cusp of something, and then it had all fallen flat. He’d been avoiding the shop, or so it had felt like, and yet she could hardly ask him why he hadn’t bought a cupcake in the last three days. The whole thing felt a bit ridiculous.
They walked in silence up the high street; already people were trickling away from the green, heading towards home. Olivia doubted she’d get much more custom that night, and Harriet would be able to buy plenty of cakes. She couldn’t keep from sighing at the thought, and Simon glanced at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just been a long day.” She shrugged, determined not to give in to the doldrums. “I’m ready to put my feet up and binge on a boxed set.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
Had he wanted her to invite him along? Olivia had no idea what Simon wanted, what he was thinking, and suddenly she decided she was too old for these kinds of games. As they neared the shop, she stopped and turned to him.
“So, Simon, why did you want me to know you were single?”
He blinked, and then took her abrupt question in his stride. “Because I wanted to ask you out,” he answered with an easy smile.
Oh. Well, then. Excitement flickered through her, and yet even so Olivia couldn’t banish a stirring of unease. “You haven’t been to buy a cupcake in days.”
“I know.” He glanced away briefly. “I meant to, but…”
She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal.” It really wasn’t, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Simon wasn’t telling her. Something he didn’t want to tell her. And yet she had no idea what it could be.
“Anyway,” Simon said, injecting a bright note in his voice. “If you fancy a drink at The Three Pennies one night…”
Did she? Of course she did. Whatever Simon wasn’t saying, and perhaps it was nothing, she still fancied a drink with him. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Whenever you’re free…”
“Tomorrow night?”
Excitement flickered again, stronger this time. “Yes, okay.”
He smiled, and then nodded towards the shop. “Any cupcakes left?”
She nodded, smiling back. “Today was toffee apple.”
She pushed open the door, blinking in the bright light of the shop as Simon followed her. Her mother had tidied up, clearing tables and tucking in chairs, but Olivia couldn’t see her anywhere.
“Mum…? Are you here…?”
“Back here.” Her mother sounded distressed, and with her heart leaping into her throat, Olivia hurried towards the kitchen.
“Mum…!” Her mother was slumped against the counter, cradling her arm to her chest. “What happened?”
“It was so silly of me…” Tina shook her head, tears of pain as well as shame smarting in her eyes. “I was pouring the mulled wine and I didn’t see… I managed to slop it all over myself.”
“Oh, Mum.” Gently Olivia took hold of her mother’s arm, wincing at the sight of the red, blistered burn from her wrist to her elbow. “This needs to be seen to, Mum—”
“I don’t want to make a fuss—”
“It looks serious.” Panic cramped her stomach as she gazed at the burn. “Let me drive you to the hospital in Witney.”
“Oh, no—”
“Please, Mum.”
“Why don’t I drive you?” Simon said unexpectedly. “Then you can focus on your mum, Olivia, and I can manage the driving and the parking. My car’s parked just down the road.”
“Oh…” Disconcerted, Olivia couldn’t think how to respond. The offer was so surprising and yet also welcome. Olivia was shaken herself, and her mum needed all her attention. And, she realised, she liked the idea of having some support. “Only if you want to…” she started, trailing off uncertainly, only to have Simon give a firm nod.
“Of course I do,” he said. “I’ll go get my car and drive up to the front of the shop.”
Chapter Six
The waiting room of Witney Hospital’s A&E was crowded with a variety of illnesses and injuries, and despite Olivia insisting on the severity of her mother’s burn—not to mention her age—the nurse didn’t give them any preferential treatment. Not that Olivia would have wanted it, precisely, but she still felt anxious, perhaps more anxious than the situation warranted.
Her mother had always been her bedrock, she reflected as the three of them sat in hard plastic seats in the waiting room. For her whole life, her mother had solidly been there, utterly dependable, always warm and welcoming. And yet now, with the painful benefit of hindsight, Olivia could see that her mum had started…fading a little in the last two years, since she’d moved back home.
It had happened in such small increments that she hadn’t really noticed; she’d been busy with the shop, and she’d seen what she’d wanted to see. But now she felt as if a dark mist was creeping over the landscape of her life and she didn’t even understand it, or why she was so worried. It was just a burn…wasn’t it? It had to be.
The touch of Simon’s hand on her own startled her out of her worried reverie. “Try not to worry,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m sure she’ll be seen soon.”
“Thank you,” Olivia murmured. She was grateful for Simon driving them to Witney; her mum had been agitated and Olivia had concentrated on trying to comfort her. She’d felt too dazed to drive, and yet now that they were here and she was starting to feel a little bit more like herself, she realised it was undeniably awkward to have Simon Blacklock here, kindly and well meaning—as well as a potential date—but still a stranger. And who even knew how long they’d be waiting? A crowded A&E in the pre-Christmas flu season? It could be hours, maybe even all night.
“If you want to go back,” Olivia offered in a low voice, “please feel free. I don’t know how long we’ll be, and I can always call a cab.”
“I’m not bothered,” Simon replied. “I don’t have anywhere better to be.”
“Don’t you?” She was curious, and it felt like a much-needed distraction to wonder about someone other than her mum. “Why not?”
Simon shrugged. “I’ve only been in Wychwood for a few months. I don’t know many people, haven’t got much going on.” He sounded a bit like her, give or take another year or two. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m happy to be here, Olivia.”
Olivia nodded, believing him, yet it still felt like a big ask, and it put their relationship, or lack of it, on a whole other, awkward footing. She turned to her mum, who was cradling her arm, her gaze unfocused.
“How are you holding up, Mum? Can I get you anything?”
“I just want to go home,” Tina said, looking as if she were fighting tears. “I don’t need all this bother.”
“I know it’s difficult,” Olivia said as gently as she could, “but it’s a bad burn and it needs proper looking at, Mum. We’ll be seen soon, I’m sure.” Tina just shook her head, and Olivia bit her lip.
Her mother’s behaviour seemed so out of chara
cter—and yet it had been in character for the last few months. Olivia just hadn’t wanted to see it, had always brushed aside the faint unease she’d felt when visiting her mother in Witney. And she still wanted to brush it aside, insist that once her mother’s arm was bandaged, everything would be okay, because any alternative was too difficult to consider.
“Tina James?” a nurse called, and Olivia rose with relief.
“That’s us, Mum.” She helped Tina up, taking her good arm, and they walked towards the doors that led to the A&E ward while Simon stayed in the waiting room.
A few seconds later they were settled in a small, curtained cubicle with a brisk-seeming nurse sitting across from Tina.
“You burned yourself, did you? How did it happen?”
“Oh, it was nothing, it’s so silly,” Tina said, trying her best to sound dismissive. “I was ironing and I touched the hot plate…”
Shock jolted through Olivia at this admission. “Mum,” she said as gently as she could, trying to keep the alarm from her voice, “you burned it on the mulled wine—didn’t you?” She exchanged a questioning glance with the nurse and gave a little shake of her head. What was going on?
“Oh yes…” Tina bit her lip and then nodded. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Let me take a look at it, then.” Tina held out her arm and the nurse examined the angry red burn that had already blistered. “This does look painful,” she murmured with a sympathetic smile for Tina. “I just need to clean the affected area and then we’ll put a sterile dressing on it, all right?”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble…” Tina began and the nurse’s smile deepened.
“You aren’t, love, promise. That’s what we’re here for.” She turned Tina’s arm over and then paused. Olivia craned her head to see what she was looking at. “It looks like you’ve burned yourself before,” she remarked casually. “On your wrist?”