Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop. Kellie Hailes

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СКАЧАТЬ pub.’

      ‘Then that’s where I’m going.’ Ritchie stood and stalked to the door before turning around. ‘Where’s the pub again?’

      ‘I’ll show you – I’m coming too.’ There was a rattle of keys as Marjorie grabbed the set from the hook by the back door.

      Ritchie nodded, his heart going out to the woman. Apparently he wasn’t the only person Serena was holding out on.

      The Bullion’s oak door slammed behind Ritchie and Marjorie with a crash. People looked up from their conversations, their mouths dropping into wide ovals whey they saw who’d come to join them in their revelry.

      Ritchie adopted an easy-going smile. One he hoped said, ‘it’s no big deal. Let’s not make a fuss. I’m just here with my mother-in-law for a quiet beer’. At the same time, he took a moment to enjoy their awe and bask in their admiration. All the while, he was glancing over the crowd, looking for Serena, hoping she too would see the effect he had on people. He wanted to remind her what she was missing out on.

      He scanned the bar for a sight of her customary topknot above the heads of the rest of the punters, but no bouncing curls were to be found.

      Apprehension stopped his swagger in its tracks. Her mother had thought Serena would be at the pub, but – what if she wasn’t here?

      ‘Oh, look, it’s Jack.’ Marjorie stepped around him, strode towards the bar and touched the elbow of a bloke sitting on one of the stools, a half-empty pint glass sitting in front of him.

      ‘Jack, have you seen Serena? I thought she’d be here, having her usual with you.’

      Uneasiness settled in Ritchie’s stomach as he took in this Jack. Sandy blond hair that was short at the sides and backs, but with a little more length on top. His face was round, but chiselled. Broad shoulders gave way to a waist that didn’t look to have an ounce of beer-gut on it.

      Serena had been having drinks with this movie-star handsome guy?

      ‘Hi, I’m Ritchie.’ He thrust his hand out. ‘I take it you’re Jack? Nice to meet you. How do you know Serena?’ Ritchie sat down on the stool next to Jack and indicated to the barman he would have whatever Jack was having.

      ‘Jack and Serena go way back.’ Marjorie settled onto the spare stool.

      ‘Is Roger here, Marjorie?’ Jack craned his neck, giving Ritchie the opportunity to get a better look at him. Solid, straight nose. Eyes that were emerald green. Easily as good looking as he was, but in a clean-cut style as opposed to his edgy rock way.

      ‘No.’ Marjorie nodded at the barman as he offered to pour her a glass of red. ‘He’s prepping the sheds. It took its time getting here but winter’s finally on the way. They’re saying there’ll be snow for Christmas, but I doubt it. Only snows this early once a century. If that.’

      Jack nodded. ‘Yeah, don’t see it snowing. But the weather’s been a bit off. Driest autumn I can remember in quite some time. Still, I’m not taking any chances. We’ll be housing our stock tomorrow.’

      ‘We?’ Ritchie leaned in. ‘Do you and your wife have a farm as well?’

      Jack’s eyes flicked over to Ritchie. ‘No. I’m not exactly lucky in love. I manage the day-to-day running of Jody McArthur’s farm.’

      ‘Oh. I see. Serena’s friend. She’s mentioned her a few times.’ Ritchie nodded his thanks to the barman as he set his beer down in front of him. ‘Never wanted to own your own farm, then?’

      Jack shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever had the money to buy one. That’s okay. I’m happy where I am.’

      ‘Nicest bloke you’ll ever meet is our Jack.’ Marjorie smiled fondly. ‘Was a time we’d hoped he’d be joining us on our farm.’

      ‘Did Jody nab you before Marjorie had a chance?’ Ritchie politely enquired, although he had a feeling he knew exactly what Marjorie was meaning.

      Jack’s cheeks pinked up. He ducked his head and took a long slurp of his beer.

      ‘Oh, I see.’ Ritchie nodded amiably, despite his stomach knotting up. Jack wasn’t just a family friend, he was the guy Serena’s family had hoped she’d settle down with.

      ‘So, no Serena then?’ Marjorie mused. ‘Where else would she be?’

      ‘To be honest she’s not been around much this past month. Been busy in her shop, getting it ready.’

      Marjorie’s head jerked back, a frown replacing the smile on her face. ‘Really? That’s not the Serena I know. When she was on the farm she was down here as soon as milking had finished for the day.’

      ‘Well I guess she’s moved on with that part of her life.’ Jack took another sip of beer.

      Was Ritchie imagining it, or was there a secondary message in Jack’s words? Had Serena moved on from the farm, and from him? With Jack?

      Irritation mixed with frustration pulsed hot in his veins, spreading through him, filling him.

      No. Stop. You don’t do anger. You’re not like him. Breathe.

      But he couldn’t. The idea of Serena being with another man. With this man. It was too much. Too hard. He had to get out of the pub before he became the one person he never wanted to be.

      ‘Look, I’ve got to go.’ Ritchie slid off the stool and backed away from the situation before he did anything rash. ‘I’ll find my own way home, Marjorie.’

      Spinning on his heel he marched towards the front door, shoved it open and stumbled into the street. He leant against the building, closed his eyes and breathed out. Long. Deep. But that wasn’t calming enough.

      If Serena had moved on completely then being here was a waste of time. He’d just have to find another way to be inspired. Find another way to be happy.

      He opened his eyes, blinked once and then blinked again.

      What the hell was he seeing? And how had he not noticed it before?

      Ritchie stepped into the street and did a slow three-sixty turn.

      The street was illuminated in a golden glow, as hundreds of thousands of fairy lights dripped off eaves, twinkling their way merrily down the main street. Elaborate wreaths hung off shop doors. Circles of ivy interspersed with holly, silver-sprayed pinecones mixed with spruce, branches of fir through which red, gold and green baubles were artfully placed. Shop windows were lit from within, each decorated with …

      He moved to the closest shop, the stationers, where little wooden soldiers marched along the window, heading towards a miniature Christmas tree, under which little painted presents in an array of festive colours were placed. He shuffled over to the next window, the butcher’s. A wooden toy train, its carriages filled with tiny boxes wrapped in paper and ribbon, took pride of place.

      Ritchie scanned the rest of the stores. Sure enough, each and every one of them had embraced Christmas in a massive way.

      He waited for the soul-shaking shudder to roll through him, СКАЧАТЬ