Happily Ever After This Christmas

by C. K. Martin

  Happily

  Ever After

  This Christmas

  C.K. Martin

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

  All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Published By Rogue Hedgehog Media

  Copyright © 2017 C.K. Martin

  All rights reserved.

  CHAPTER ONE

  An old-fashioned bell tinkled above the door as it opened. Kayleigh looked up automatically. Johnson’s Independent Bookstore had been her second home since she was so young that the bell had trained her better than one of Pavlov’s dogs. Two young people came through, talking in a language that she couldn’t understand, but could still hear the wonder. She smiled, doubtful they would buy anything, but happy they had walked through the door anyway.

  As she laid out more books on the front table — a surprise hit from an author presumed past her sell-by date was an ongoing task — she looked out into the street. It was still busy out there, the coach party of elderly Christmas shoppers not yet quite ready to leave.

  Kayleigh finished stacking the books and made her way back down the aisle, automatically straightening spines as she went. Tinsel made the task slower compared to normal, but it also made it special. It was hard work to decorate the store for Christmas each year, but it was always worth it in the end.

  It had been her grandfather, the original owner of the bookstore, who had insisted on the Christmas displays. Back then, owning a bookstore in a quiet little town in the English Cotswolds wasn’t the most financially viable option, but the tourist industry had helped them continue to survive the many economic ups and downs throughout the years. Now it was all hers. The displays had grown bigger and she tried to tell herself it wasn’t overcompensating for the fact she was doing it all alone.

  Many of the other shops along the high street had moved with the times. They had modernised the layout, with light and airy spaces that would work well for local magazine photos, should they ever have the good fortune of being featured. Along with the light, soft pine tables, they had severely pared down their stock; trinkets and fashion were the name of the game when you wanted to sell to the ever-changing tourist market. Those shops, despite being in the majority, were not shops for locals. The names may have been handed down for generations, but the ethos hadn’t.

  Kayleigh had refused to do the same with Johnson’s Books. Her family hadn’t worked hard to build the collection from the ground up just so she could sell novelty pens and gifts. It was a bookstore and it should remain a bookstore. The locals still used it and, despite the different marketing logic, the tourists seemed to love it too. When you have travelled halfway around the world to see quaint little old England, she realised, then it shouldn’t feel like you could be in McAnywhere.

  Instead, the dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with books from all genres, all eras. Kayleigh wanted it to be a place you could come to enjoy finding a book. Any book, not just the ones that happened to be in the top fifty at any given moment. Her only concession had been the addition, towards the front of the store, of two dark olive armchairs and a small table. She hadn’t gone quite as far as serving coffee yet, despite many requests that she do so, not to mention her own desire to have it on hand throughout the day. If sales fell too much, then there may be no choice but to capitulate. For now though, the many tea rooms along the street could cater to the caffeine and sugar cravings of her patrons. Besides, sticky fingers on books were more likely to be damaging to business than the loss of an occasional sale.

  Bright white fairy lights gave an extra seasonal brightness, but although the two tourists picked up many things, they ultimately walked out empty handed, as she’d known they would. She could read people by now, not quite as well as the books on the shelves, but close. Over the coming week, the true build up to Christmas would begin and she wouldn’t have time to people watch. It would be all hands to the pump as people took advantage of the ‘two for one’ offers and the wider selection of new releases that came with this time of year. Kayleigh couldn’t wait. The busy, ‘rushed off her feet until she was ready to drop’ feeling left her too tired at the end of the day to even think. Sometimes, that was a place she needed to be.

  Another soft tinkle came from the front of the store and she turned to look back. A woman walked through the door and Kayleigh sized her up, unable to put immediately place her into one of the categories she had created over the years for just that purpose. She didn’t seem familiar. Kayleigh knew most of the locals by sight, one way or another. When you’re tied to a village, you made yourself an integral part of it if you wanted to survive. Who you knew, rather than what you knew, was the currency of choice. She’d drawn the line at joining the Women’s Institute, like her mother before her. That was a level of commitment to tradition she wasn’t quite prepared to sacrifice herself to just yet. Besides, cooking had never really been her thing. She could tell you about Blake’s Jerusalem but she couldn’t make jam.

  The woman tilted her head towards the empty counter, noting the lack of anyone there to help her before her eyes scanned the room. No, she wasn’t a local, but she wasn’t a tourist either. However she was, a traitorous voice whispered inside Kayleigh’s brain, cute. She shook the thought away. She didn’t have time for cute. Especially not with the festivities about to get underway. Cute could wait for spring, like it always did. Or the season after that.

  Confident that her face wouldn’t give her away, she put on her best smile and walked towards the door. She noticed a Hemingway had been half pulled out by a previous customer and her hand smoothed the spine back into line in a single fluid action as she walked past. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Hi. Yes. Perhaps? I’m looking for the owner.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Oh.’ The woman looked surprised and Kayleigh tried not to bristle. Perhaps thirty-four was a tender age to own a place like this, but that was more circumstance than entirely of her own choosing. Not that the woman extending her hand needed to know that. Extending her hand? Things suddenly seemed terribly formal. ‘Jo Pearmain. I work for the council.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was Kayleigh’s turn to be confused. In all the years she had been in the bookstore, even as a teenager forced to work the Saturday shift, or after school, she couldn’t recall them ever getting a visit from the council. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m with the Health and Safety team.’ The woman who had introduced herself as Jo fumbled in her pocket, pulling out an ID badge. Kayleigh peered at it. The picture was surprisingly flattering. However, she couldn’t really take in the dark brown eyes that under normal circumstances would have made her think of hot chocolate. Instead, it was the department logo, stamped at the top, which gave her pause. This could not be good.

  ‘Health and Safety? I check the paperwork every January. I’m up to date with everything.’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ said Jo, voice formal and stern enough to be a school mistress, not a
council lackey, ‘I’m going to have to look at that.’

  The moment the words came tumbling out, Kayleigh didn’t even need to follow the direction of the finger that Jo was pointing. The Christmas display at the back of the shop filled the entire of the back alcove. A smaller section of the store that due to the layout of the staircase behind, formed a narrow, smaller ‘room’ at the back. It was the ideal place to put the display, out of the way of the customers who came in looking for presents. If someone wanted an actual book from that section, where the large fir touched the ceiling and also the shelves in places, then Kayleigh could find it for them. She knew every inch of the shelves by heart. It just took a small amount of nimble contortion to get to them, that was all.

  ‘The display?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s only temporary.’

  ‘I would imagine it is.’ Sturdy silence. The woman wasn’t going to back down and go on her merry way. Kayleigh would have no choice but to show her.

  The display was the heart of the shop at Christmas. Whilst tinsel and fairy lights adorned bookshelves and tables, the tree at the back of the store was the pièce de résistance. Swathes of red and gold, ornaments new and old, filled its branches and brought the old building to life. She had deliberately made it as old-fashioned as she could, taking her cues from Christmas biscuit tins and Dickens. It never changed with the latest Christmas fashions; its branches simply grew heavier each year with items that she had found, or had been donated by a friendly local trying to get rid of things so they could move with the times themselves.

  For the first time, she looked at it with a more critical eye. Perhaps the locals had donated a few too many things. They’d all been so sweet in their generosity that Kayleigh had been unable to say no to anything. As the woman stood there in silence, it became apparent that she wasn’t going to be the first person she said no to either. ‘I suppose you want to take a look at it?’

  ‘I’m going to have to.’

  ‘Follow me.’ Kayleigh crossed her fingers and hoped that no one she knew would come into the shop and witness what was going on. Or worse, a swathe of customers that meant she would have to leave Miss Whateverhername was alone. The quicker they could get this over with, the better.

  As they drew up to the tree, Kayleigh saw it with a newly critical eye that had nothing to do with artistic merit. All the little things that would have made it fine in her own home were not going to cut it here. She braced herself for the questions. Then considered the supreme alternative: distraction. ‘Can I get you something to drink, er…’ damn what was the woman’s name again?

  ‘Jo.’

  ‘Yes. Jo. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘I’m fine thank you.’ Jo fished around in her bag and pulled out a small notebook. As she opened it to the next blank page, Kayleigh tried to work out the scribbles that had preceded it. She needed to know how ruthless a health and safety inspector this woman was. She thought she knew everyone who had lived around here long enough to hold a position that came with any kind of clout, but apparently not. The words, never in complete sentences, were indecipherable. Then she found the next page and began the inspection. ‘Is the tree secured in any fashion?’

  ‘Secured?’

  ‘Yes. Secured. To prevent it from toppling?’

  ‘It’s in a really big pot.’ Kayleigh pointed. It was pretty big.

  ‘So the pot is secured? To the floor or another surface?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see.’ Jo scribbled something that looked like ‘mango’. Kayleigh was baffled. This woman had worse handwriting than she did.

  ‘But everyone knows not to go past it. If they need a book from that section, then I go and get it for them.’

  ‘I see. So you accept that it is a potential hazard?’

  ‘Hazard is such a strong word. I just know where things are most likely to fall off.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Things falling off were the same as a hazard to a person like Jo. Her heart sank as another scribble hit the page.

  ‘So no members of the public are given access to this alcove?’

  ‘No. Not while the display is up. That’s only three weeks each year. It’s not really a problem for the business.’

  ‘Only three weeks? I thought everyone put their Christmas displays up in October these days?’ Jo looked genuinely surprised. Perhaps she thought she was lying to make the problem seem less than it was.

  ‘Yes, just three weeks. It’s for—’

  ‘But you don’t have anything specifically designed to prevent any members of the public coming back here?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No ropes? Warning signs?’

  ‘Well, no. But I make it very clear to them.’

  ‘Verbally?’

  ‘Yes.’ This was getting ridiculous now. If there were no signs or ropes but she made it clear to them, then how else was she going to do it? Telepathy?

  ‘What if you are busy with a customer?’

  ‘I call across to them. If I see them heading down that way.’

  ‘So you are reliant on being able to see them and communicate with them personally. There are no other members of staff?’

  ‘Sometimes. In the busy periods.’ That wasn’t a lie. She had one or two helpers. Part time employees. Mainly Saturday girls, as she still called them.

  ‘So no one here to act as a permanent deterrent?’

  ‘Deterrent? That’s a bit dramatic isn’t it?’ Again, Kayleigh’s brain willed the words back a few seconds too late.

  ‘I have to take this seriously. If there is an active risk to the public, then it is my job to make sure that they are protected.’

  ‘Of course.’ This time, the words, of course you do, who shoved that rod up your backside? actually stayed in her head, locked behind the sweetest smile-grimace her face could manage. ‘I’m sure I could get something to act as a deterrent. Most of the books there are only of interest to the locals anyway. They know better than to try and get to them.’

  ‘I see.’ Another cryptic scribble. ‘Is there anything else you wish to tell me before I investigate further?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Everything she’d said so far had only incriminated her further, so Kayleigh decided this might be a good time to actually keep her mouth shut. She was about to issue another offer of a drink, when the tinkle above the door reached her ears. Damn. She was going to have to leave this woman to her own devices and hope that nothing went wrong. Well, any more wrong than it already had.

  ‘I’m just going to see this customer.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m done.’ The woman crouched down, looking under the display. If she was hoping to find presents there, then she was going to be sorely disappointed. Santa didn’t come to this tree. Not yet.

  Kayleigh wandered to the front of the store to check on things. She recognised the balding head of one of her regulars, in every Monday and Thursday. He seldom purchased anything, but she was sure he had read the blurb on the back of every single cover by now. Over the years, she had tried and failed to get him to reveal what kind of thing he was actually looking for. He was a man of few purchases but of many words. As always, she put on her best smile and walked over to him. Usually it was genuine, but with a health and safety inspector on the loose, then it was hard to give him her full attention.

  *

  Dusk had given way to complete darkness, making the wood in the shop appear even more antique. The decorations never gave the full feeling of a traditional English Christmas until night came around. The after school rush was over. Soon the kids would break up for the holidays and they would be in the shop more and more during the day, buying Christmas presents for parents. Only a handful bought books for friends these days. The ones that did were often the ones she ended up giving the part time jobs to.

  Other than to check once that Jo was okay and didn’t need anything further, Kayleigh had resisted the urge to hove
r over her. The woman was determined to do a thorough job and the more Kayleigh tried to stop her from seeing, the more she looked for. It was a no win situation. Instead, she had to simply wait for the verdict.

  The verdict was on a three page form. Jo handed it to her as she stood at the counter, the two feet of thick wood acting as a barrier to stop her from reaching out and physically assaulting the woman as she saw a litany of scribbles — slightly neater than the ones in the notebook, no references to mangos anywhere — covering the page. ‘So what does this mean?’ she asked, not wanting to know.

  ‘I’ll talk you through it.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘A few of the things we have already discussed. The tree itself needs to be secured. Not all trees need to be, but given its height and erm, extensive contents, this one does.’

  ‘I see.’ That surely could be sorted easily enough. She wasn’t sure how yet, but the DIY superstore in the next town along would most likely have something she could use.

  ‘Some of the objects on the tree’s branches are quite heavy and placed at height.’ The woman read from the list like an automaton. Kayleigh loved her job, even on the darkest and loneliest of days, but she’d never felt this grateful for it before. Imagine having to do this for a living instead? It took a special kind of soulless person to do this to someone at Christmas.

  ‘Which means?’ Kayleigh realised the woman had trailed of and was looking at her, presumably waiting for some kind of response.

  ‘Which means they could pose a falling risk. Especially to any children in the area.’

  ‘I told you, no one goes into the area.’

  ‘Because of a verbal warning, correct?’

  ‘Yes.’ She already knew where this was going. Another thing she could predict was a large glass of wine in her future when this was all done.

  ‘I’m afraid that is insufficient Ms Johnson.’

  ‘So what do I need?’

  ‘I’m afraid you need to close off the area to the public. A rope barrier should be sufficient. A warning sign would also be advantageous, but shouldn’t be used in place of the rope.’