A Country Village Christmas

by Suzanne Snow

  For our sixth #BradshawsBooksAtChristmas Tom has chosen #ThePolarExpress. For all those who believe, and those yet to discover the miracle of a silver reindeer bell, the magic of a Christmas journey. Join us to share your memories and make new ones.

  It was by far the worst evening they’d spent in the house. After last night, the fun, the flirting, the ending, Olivia couldn’t believe she’d brought them to this atmosphere of tension and torture. She still hadn’t found the right words, the ones to tell Tom how she felt about him and how afraid those feelings made her. She’d lost someone she’d loved before, had been the one at home picking up the pieces, and she desperately didn’t want to do that again.

  But she’d also been unfair to Tom and knew that she’d hurt him, something that made her whole body ache. She’d tweeted the book and followers were engaging with the choice of The Polar Express and wanting to know what they were planning for Christmas Eve. Olivia had already tweeted earlier in the week to say that they were planning to finish that night with one final book. Speculation about it was growing, as was the realisation that it was Tom Bellingham, former actor and writer, who was the mystery man in the shop.

  After a separate, restless evening she was up early and going over the list for the supermarket. There was quite a bit of shopping to do for the party and Mrs Timms had been overjoyed when Olivia had popped into the cafe yesterday to ask her to bake for Hugh’s homecoming and goodbye to the shop.

  The word around the village was out and Olivia was aware that people would want to take the opportunity to see her dad and wish him well before the house was sold. Fifty still seemed like a sensible number to cater for and that took planning. She wished she hadn’t offered to drive over to Lancashire to view the property this afternoon. She knew she’d rather be here, with Tom, but she’d promised and after yesterday’s fiasco she couldn’t back out.

  Already the house seemed layered in melancholy, a gloom seeping through the rooms where before there had been happiness. Thoughts of her own company, the luxurious if empty apartment, and Ellie heading for Australia in the summer, filled Olivia’s mind and Christmas was something she now wanted to be over and gone. Breakfast done, she was ready to go and at the front door when Tom came down the stairs. Her gaze flew guiltily to his, searching for any sign of the love he’d confessed, and found none.

  ‘Morning.’ He reached for a coat, pulled a hat out of the pocket. ‘I’ll be in the shop this afternoon and then I’ll start on the food we talked about. Those two recipes of your dad’s.’

  ‘I’m just about to go shopping, I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘I’m coming with you. It’s a lot of stuff to fetch and I didn’t intend to leave you to do it alone.’ Tom wasn’t looking at her as he pulled the hat on. ‘You’re not planning to cancel the party then?’

  It had crossed her mind. ‘I can’t, too many people have been invited and Mrs Timms is on the case.’ That didn’t make him smile in the way it usually would. ‘And Dad’s looking forward to it. It’s not necessary for you to come with me this morning. I can manage.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you don’t have to. Why do you find it so hard to accept help and insist on doing everything on your own terms?’

  There wasn’t an answer she could give him to that, at least not in this moment. When they arrived in town, they’d barely exchanged another word and collected separate trolleys to gather all they needed. The supermarket was crazy busy, and Olivia just wanted it to be over.

  Tom pulled his hat down, drew the scarf higher and she knew he didn’t want to be recognised. Half of the fun of the party they were holding for her dad had gone now. There was no joy to be found in silently loading her car, stuffing bags of food and drink into every corner of the vehicle. It was no better when they reached Thorndale and emptied the car of the same things. There was time for coffee before the shop was due to open and she had to leave to see the house. She made a drink for Tom and left it on the table.

  There were just two afternoons left in there now and Twitter was busier than ever. Olivia replied to notifications, helping to increase interest in the final book. She also noticed a steady stream of people making their way through the garden to the shop, including a few she recognised from the village.

  She messaged her dad to remind him that she would collect him tomorrow before lunch to bring him home and received a cheery reply. He was planning to go back to the flat on Boxing Day in time for a lunch with other residents and Olivia felt now as though Christmas was going to be excruciating. She’d have to pretend to her clever dad that all was fine and hide the uncertainty and the fear she was concealing about how she felt about Tom. What she’d done to him, to them.

  Gina was checking in with her daily and Olivia called her from the car to say that she was okay, trying to find a way forward. Ellie and Logan were updating the family chat group with fabulous Caribbean photos and Olivia was thrilled they were having such a wonderful time. It wasn’t very many days since they’d been here, but that feeling of being happy with Tom then, of possibility and enjoying his company, had deserted her now and it was her own fault.

  She was relieved to have an excuse to avoid the bookshop, not wanting to be part of whatever was going on in there. She wouldn’t be able to do that tomorrow and would have to find a way to get through that final opening. She wasn’t her usual wholly professional self when she viewed the property and checked in with Julian and the new client to inform them.

  The house wasn’t right, and she was about to suggest that she continue searching over the holidays when she changed her mind, remembering Gina’s words about what it cost her to always put work first. She reminded Julian that she was on annual leave, and he offered to take over before his usual New Year holiday. She thanked him, feeling a mixture of relief that the client was no longer hers to deal with, and strange that she had passed the search to someone else.

  Tom was busy in the kitchen when she returned, the shop already closed. She helped him clear up after he’d prepared the recipes, a coldness to their silence that hadn’t been present between them before. She told him how much her dad would appreciate the festive twist Tom had applied to the dodgy sausage rolls, adding sage and onion, and the famous prawn and lentil dish he hadn’t been able to resist, and he thanked her politely.

  She had come to know the man – not the actor – so well, and every time she thought of him, she thought of a different decision for herself, one which allowed them a future together. But then memories of the look in his eyes and the hurt that she had brought about followed straight after and she didn’t know if she could ask him again. He had given her a chance and she had ruined it; he surely would not give her a second one.

  * * *

  Happy Christmas Eve! Thank you for taking Bradshaw’s Books into your hearts again. We have one final #BradshawsBooksAtChristmas to see us out. Join us live at 5 p.m. – all will be revealed by Hugh Bradshaw, without whom we wouldn’t be here.

  And isn’t that the truth, Olivia thought sadly as she pressed the blue button. If her dad hadn’t invited Tom to stay, hadn’t provided him with a home when he’d needed one. If her dad hadn’t insisted that the house, and he, needed her attention and that he wanted her here whilst Tom was too. Had her dad done all of it on purpose? Had he wanted her to make space in her life for something more than her clients, her career? Had he known how she and Tom would feel about one another? How they would laugh, fight, tease, share and finally love one another?

  There was so much to do today, and she felt the hectic distraction of it replaced by a new sadness. Sadness for her and Tom, as well as for the very last time that Bradshaw’s Books would be open. She’d become used to seeing villagers and visitors popping in and out of the annexe, and she knew some of them would miss it once it was gone for good. She wondered how many people who’d heard about the shop on Twitter had been attracted by Tom: his presence, his celebrity amongst them.

  ‘Morning.’ Tom appeared as she was still star
ing at her phone and Olivia looked up. Saw the hint of sorrow before he blinked it away. ‘So I suppose we’ve got a lot to do today.’

  He was slicing bread to make toast and he added another piece for her. She appreciated how he still did that, included her in what he was doing for himself. It was another small detail of his character and one she’d liked from the beginning.

  ‘What time are you collecting your dad?’

  ‘About twelve, so we can be back in time for the shop at one.’ She thanked Tom when he slid the toast across to her. ‘He wants to be here for the whole afternoon in the shop.’

  ‘Right.’ Tom was standing at the sink to eat, his back to her. ‘I’ll rearrange things in there a bit if you don’t mind? There’s barely enough room to swing a cat, never mind extra customers.’

  ‘I like how you refer to them as customers whereas I still think of them as visitors. And of course I don’t mind, you know you’re free to sort the shop as you wish.’ Olivia paused. ‘Have you thought about what you’ll do with it, the collection, once the house is sold?’

  ‘Why? Are you worried you’re missing out?’ Tom sighed, and she heard the splash as the plate was dropped in the sink. ‘Sorry, Olivia, that wasn’t fair. I’ll keep some and sell the rest. It’s the most obvious thing to do and I haven’t got the space to store everything.’

  No more Liv. ‘Tom, I’m so pleased about your job. The opportunity, here.’ She brought her own plate across, wanted to stand beside him and be near him.

  ‘Thanks.’ He glanced at her. ‘They’ve offered me the first six months as a residency, to see how it goes and give me time to find somewhere permanent.’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’ She couldn’t help touching his arm, saw his eyes fall to watch. ‘So you’ll actually be staying on in the house, then?’

  ‘Yes. It won’t be the same here without you.’ His smile was bleak, brief. ‘Less of a home.’

  ‘Tom, I…’

  ‘Right.’ He was brisk. ‘I’d better get started. See you later.’

  ‘I’ll help. There’s not much I can do with the food until later and it’s too early to go and get Dad.’

  It was well over an hour later before they were done and Olivia was happy that the shop looked as welcoming and festive as possible. She and Tom had cleared some of the stock out of the way and brought in a standard lamp which should throw enough light over her dad to enable him to read.

  Afterwards when she drove into town, the roads were busy with people setting off for the holidays. Her dad was ready when she knocked on the door of his flat, a small bag sitting in the hall. Back at the house, Tom was hovering in the library and her dad was so pleased to see him that she almost cried.

  She watched as the two men hugged, immediately falling into chat about books and the shop. There was an exuberance, an energy her dad was giving off, and she was satisfied they’d made the right decision on hosting the goodbye party, even if things between her and Tom were now at an end.

  After a quick lunch which Tom made, they settled Hugh in the shop beside the fire, glasses and a book at hand, a blanket over his lap to keep him comfortable. He was so happy to be back, even in such a small way, at the heart of the bookselling trade he adored.

  Olivia hung around the shop most of the afternoon, greeting people, replying to Twitter notifications and tweeting again, reminding followers that Hugh was planning to speak live at five p.m. There was a steady stream of visitors, most of whom bought books and were in no hurry to leave. Despite the sales she was certain that they had barely dented the overall level of stock still left and that Tom had a big job on his hands to prepare it for sale.

  Her dad was in his element, and she wondered again how he was settling into his flat and if he truly was happy there without the bustle of people around him. Many of the customers knew who Tom was now, and he seemed happy to pose for a few selfies and even sign a couple of autographs as he chatted about being here on retreat to write his new book, ignoring Olivia wherever possible.

  Lots of villagers popped in too, and so she opened the house early, poured drinks and pointed them to the food which was rapidly disappearing. Mrs Timms had outdone herself on the baking and was holding court in the dining room, dispensing mince pies and slicing the huge Christmas cake she had produced. Sam and Charlie Stewart arrived with Esther and made themselves useful topping up drinks and clearing plates. Gina had a houseful for the holidays and had already sent her apologies.

  It was a window into the days when Hugh had welcomed guests for the literary festival and she couldn’t dismiss the contentment in knowing that the house would still be a home to more writers in the future, with Tom at the helm. It was also a swift reminder that her own connection to Thorndale was diminishing just as Tom’s was increasing. With her dad in town and her apartment in Manchester, she would have little reason to visit other than to keep in touch with Annie and Jon.

  The party was only really supposed to start at five thirty and last for a couple of hours but as five p.m. approached and Twitter notifications kept arriving, speculating on their final choice of book, Olivia was busy greeting visitors with Tom and replying to tweets.

  Twitter seemed to have taken on a life of its own and Tom’s stay in Thorndale was definitely public now as people speculated online about his next book and remembered that most famous of roles he’d played so beautifully. Some of the comments about his performance were decidedly cheeky and she knew they would have laughed about them together had things between them not changed so drastically.

  She and Tom emptied the shop of people, persuading everyone to head up to the house instead. Olivia wanted the shop quiet for her dad so he could speak live on Twitter and introduce the final book. She was finding it hard to meet Tom’s eyes as they tried to avoid each other in the confined space and she was sure her dad would have noticed their politeness and lack of ease with one another. She checked her phone yet again, the book already on Hugh’s lap, almost ready to go. Tom was sitting on the armchair opposite his.

  ‘Liv, we’ve had a change of plan.’ Her dad cleared his throat.

  What? Olivia felt her pulse spike with worry. Words like that from him always had the capacity to alarm her.

  ‘Tom and I have spoken about this evening, and we thought it would be nice to read the book live as well as introduce it. It’s out of copyright now so there’s no issue. And Tom would like to be the one to read it.’

  It took Olivia a moment to process her dad’s decision. ‘You can’t be serious?’ Her gaze flew to Tom, to her dad and back to Tom again. ‘You don’t want to do that, surely, Tom? It would bring even more attention and I’m sure you must have had enough already.’

  ‘Actually Olivia, I do want to read it.’ Tom gave her a smile and she saw the way her dad was looking at him, speculative and assessing. ‘If you agree?’

  ‘Of course, the hashtag was all your idea anyway. But why, what do you hope to achieve?’

  ‘There’s just something I want to say, that’s all.’

  ‘Come on, Liv, it’s almost time.’ Her dad was getting impatient and she knew they couldn’t be late, not with the expectation growing. She opened Twitter, prepared to go live. She checked and saw that both men looked relaxed and comfortable. Right. So it was just her hand that was shaking then as she tried to hold the phone still, nerves tumbling in her stomach. She pressed the button and gave her dad a nod, capturing the two men in her screen.

  ‘Welcome to Bradshaw’s Books at Christmas.’ Hugh was smiling, clear and confident as ever. ‘Thank you for joining us for some fun over the last few days. I’m sorry to say that this really is the end of my shop after all these years but those books that are left are going to someone who will know which ones to keep by his side.

  ‘I want to thank two people whom I love dearly for all they’ve done in looking after the shop and letting me go out with a bang, as it were. They are my daughter Olivia, the brightest and best of women, and Tom Bellingham, who is not only a brilli
ant actor and a better writer but someone I’m proud to call my friend.’

  Hugh reached out to grasp Tom’s hand for a quick squeeze before letting go again. Olivia was struggling to keep her phone still and she blinked furiously at the sudden rush of emotion on her dad’s face.

  ‘So tonight it seems only right that Tom should be the one to read our final choice to you. As it’s Christmas Eve, that choice can only be The Night Before Christmas. Tom?’

  Olivia felt the nerves in her stomach launch into real fear as the two men shared a grin and Tom opened the book Hugh passed across, and she tried to gulp back the worry. She prayed nothing would go wrong and Tom wouldn’t regret this most public of readings, even if he did have the lines in front of him.

  ‘Hey everyone. I’ve not performed in public for a while and I had no plans to ever do it again.’ Tom also seemed perfectly comfortable and relaxed, and Olivia huffed out a breath, wondering if she was the only one here suffering from fright.

  ‘But someone I love has reminded me that it’s okay to fail and get stuff wrong, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I get my words mixed up.’ Tom smiled and she knew it was for her. He sounded wonderful and she heard the growing confidence he was already portraying. Her heart was pounding and she knew it was too late: she was lost in love for him and she would have to find a way to let go of what was holding her back to be with him, if he would still have her.

  ‘I’ve been reminded that it’s not our failures or our mistakes that have to define us but how we respond and whether we let them prevent us from trying again. So this is me, trying again, feeling a bit like that kid who didn’t know who he was, how he’d ever succeed until somebody believed in him and told him he was worth a shot. To give it a go.

  ‘Something else I’ve been enjoying this Christmas is new old traditions, and maybe reading Christmas books together is something we can all keep on doing. The books we chose for the hashtag are all close to our hearts and have reminded me that our lives are made up of many experiences, ones that help shape who we are and help us not to repeat past mistakes but learn from them. That love is at the heart of everything in our lives and we all do better when we are loved and love in return.’