“We need to discuss Christmas carols and food,” Trixie announced, once all the Die-Hards plus honorary members – Stan, John, Norm, Bryn, Xander and the newest member, my father – had all arrived for book group on Thursday night. “But first may I just say what a joy it is to have not one, but two published authors with us tonight.” She smiled at Xander and Dad.
“Because I’m just chopped liver, I suppose?” Mum muttered beside me. Trixie definitely heard her but didn’t say anything. She’d always been a little derogatory about Mum’s writing and I had no real idea why – perhaps because it was published in weekly magazines rather than between the pages of a book. But weekly magazines had been good enough for Dickens. I suppose we’re all snobbish in our own ways when it comes to reading.
I felt Xander’s hand on my thigh under the table and I let myself lean against him. I’d felt self-conscious when he and Gus had first arrived and he’d gently kissed me on the cheek in front of everyone, but it felt right, comfortable. The whole book group seemed quite cosy and coupled up – Bella and Norm with their arms around each other, Dot and John sitting closer together than was necessary, Missy and Bryn making eyes at each other over the top of Trixie’s head. Even my parents seemed to be getting on better than usual. It must be the spirit of Christmas. Either that or the sheer volume of Christmas decorations that had appeared in the shop over the last twenty-four hours, which I assumed my father was responsible for, meant that there wasn’t much space and we all had to squeeze in close.
Xander had cooked for me the night before, while Dot had been at a college dinner (to which, apparently, she’d taken John as her guest). He’d picked me up from the bookshop and had been press-ganged into having tea with my parents.
“Come upstairs, Xander, won’t you?” my father had said as though the two of them were old friends.
Instead of questioning Xander on his intentions with their daughter, my parents had questioned him on his writing and I’d had to look into my cup of tea for the whole excruciating hour, convinced that if I’d looked at either one of my parents I would just blurt out the secret to Ruby Bell’s identity.
Eventually they’d let us go, mostly thanks to Gus barking his head off, and we’d gone back to Dot’s and eaten lasagne and apple pie before curling up on the sofa to ostensibly watch television – although there had been substantially more kissing than watching.
Xander and Gus had walked me back to the bookshop once Dot had arrived home again.
“We can take this as slowly as you need to,” he’d said as we’d walked. “I know this must be hard for you and I’ll take your lead.”
But kissing Xander hadn’t been as difficult as I’d made it out to be in my head. I wanted to be with him; I liked having him around. I leaned my head against his arm. “It’s not as hard as I thought it would be,” I’d said quietly. He hadn’t replied but I’d felt him pull me a little closer.
“How long will you be in York?” I’d asked as we stood outside the bookshop.
“I’m staying for the Regency shindig, if that’s what you’re asking?”
“That’s not the only reason I’m asking,” I’d replied.
He’d smiled his devastating smile and my knees had felt weak. I hadn’t known that was possible outside of the pages of a romance novel. What on earth was happening to me?
“I’m going back to London early on Christmas Day to spend Christmas with my family, but I’ll come back in the new year if you want me to.”
“That would be nice.”
“Nice?” he’d replied, raising an eyebrow. “High praise indeed.” He’d paused for a moment, locking his gaze on mine. “You could always come to London.”
I felt a lump in my throat. Was I ready to go back? I thought about what came next, where I wanted my life to go. Could I do any of it without going back to London? Avoiding London meant I could avoid memories of Joe, avoid seeing his parents, but I didn’t want to avoid the hard parts of my life anymore, and if I did want to get back into publishing in some way, London was where the jobs were.
He must have sensed my hesitation and the tiny step I took away from him. “You don’t have…”
“I haven’t been back since…” It was time I went back. “I could come to London,” I’d said. It didn’t sound as terrifying as I thought it might have done. Maybe if I said it out loud enough times I’d feel comfortable doing it.
And now he was here at book club with Gus asleep at his feet, listening to a long lecture about Regency Christmas carols while gently massaging my thigh in a way that made me wonder exactly how many nerve endings a person had in their thighs. I relaxed into him, into the sensation, trying to stay in the moment and not think about the man who couldn’t be here tonight.
After making a list of carols that were suitable to sing at a Regency Christmas party – including, I was surprised to learn, ‘Deck the Halls’ and ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas’ – and ones that were not – anything by Noddy Holder (which my mother pointed out weren’t carols anyway) – Trixie started bemoaning the new Christmas decorations that had appeared all over the shop.
“They are just not suitable for our Regency theme, Megan,” she said sternly. “I said we could keep the Christmas tree but those flashing Santas are just too much.”
I was inclined to agree with her. I’d tried very hard not to let the shop look tacky, but then Dad came along. “The Santas are nothing to do with me, I’m afraid,” I said. I looked over at Dad, who shrugged.
“Oh come on, let them stay,” he said. “It’s Christmas.”
One smile from Dad and Trixie was putty in his hands. After agreeing that the Santas would be taken down on Christmas Eve in time for the party, we moved on to food.
“We agreed on finger food version of Regency delicacies, I think,” Trixie said, peering at her copious notes.
“We thought we could all try to make one dish and bring it,” I replied.
“Do you think perhaps we should get Ellie at the tearoom to do some back-up dishes?” Xander said quietly to me. He’d become rather enamoured of The Two Teas since I’d met him there. “Just in case?”
“Already sorted.”
“I’ve written up some recipes,” Trixie went on. “And you can all choose something to make and bring. I’m going for mini Yorkshire puddings.” Typically she’d chosen the easiest dish to make. “There’s also potato pudding, pasties, savoury pies, bubble and squeak, colcannon, mince pies and fruit cake, so I suggest you all get practising.”
Because we all had time to be cooking up a disgusting-sounding storm as well as everything else. This party felt as though it was getting out of hand, and I wished I’d never suggested it. I was just going to get Ellie to make some extra mince pies and hope Trixie didn’t notice.
“Now before we start dancing, I need all the men’s measurements,” Trixie announced. “If you don’t know them I can measure you.” She unrolled a tape measure ceremoniously.
“God help me,” Xander whispered under his breath.
“What do you need our measurements for?” Bryn asked.
“Your Regency costume, of course.”
“What? Nobody told me…” Bryn began but Trixie silenced him with a look.
“Us ladies already have our gowns, and we expect our dance partners to be appropriately attired,” Trixie went on, as I wondered if they made breeches to fit Bryn and Norm. “I need to get everything ordered from the costume rental this week. It’s very last minute—” she gave me another of her knowing looks “—so it is imperative this is done tonight. If you don’t know your measurements, please come and have them taken.”
My father was first in line, flirting outrageously with Trixie.
“Will you take my inside leg measurement please,” Xander growled quietly into my ear and I felt as though my whole body had caught on fire. “I’ve never known anyone blush as much as you.” He laughed as he got up. “And don’t worry, I know my measurements so I don’t need to be manhandled by Trixie – these inside legs are for you alone.”
I shook my head at him but I couldn’t stop smiling. How was this the same man who’d rammed his trolley into my legs just a few weeks ago?
“And now we dance,” Trixie said, when all the measuring was sorted out.
“Have you been practising?” Xander asked.
“When have I had time to practise?” I asked. “And I think I’ve forgotten everything that we learned last week. You did mention practising together but…” I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’ve been practising, haven’t you?”
He nodded sheepishly. “Yes, with Dot and John,” he admitted.
“Humph.” I looked over at Dot. “So she’s been seeing a lot of John outside of book group then?” I asked.
“Well, you know she went to that college do last night with him.”
“Is he suitable, do we think?” I joked.
Xander laughed. “I think Dot is capable of looking after herself. If anyone is going to be taken advantage of then it’s John.”
Mum was sitting out the quadrille as Colin hadn’t turned up. I’d asked him several times but he was clearly more annoyed with us for leaving him to work alone during the Christmas rush than I’d thought. I had to make it up to him somehow – we’d all been taking him for granted for far too long – but I didn’t know what I was going to do, especially once he found out he wasn’t going to have a job at all soon enough.
“Dance with me,” Dad said.
“No, it’s fine…” Mum began but Dad was insistent. Always the life and soul of any party and never one to be left out, Dad was ready to dance a quadrille, even though he had no idea how to or even what a quadrille was.
“Really, Walter,” Trixie said, pretending to be cross with him, but I could tell already that he was going to get away with it. He always did. “We can’t be starting from scratch. We’ll never catch up and we don’t have long to go now.”
“You just carry on from wherever you’re at,” Dad said. “I’ll follow along.”
We gathered in the middle of the shop floor where we’d cleared space once again. I took the opportunity to speak to Missy for a moment while everyone was still finding their places.
“Has Dad talked to you about the bookshop?” I asked.
She glanced over towards where Dad was being shown the opening steps of the quadrille by Dot and then looked back at me.
“He’s selling up, isn’t he?” she whispered.
I nodded.
“I think it might be the only way, Meg. It would have to happen eventually,” Missy replied as Trixie called us to order once again.
My father had two left feet at the best of times, but he wasn’t going to let the quadrille defeat him. What he lacked in skill he made up for in effort and if nothing else he had us all roaring with laughter – even Trixie. This was typical of my father – everyone loved him.
“You’re all hopeless,” Trixie announced. “But we are getting there. I’ll see you all next week.” She packed up her lists and dance demonstration designs in her handbag and slung it over her arm. “Come along, Stan,” she ordered. “Dot, John, are you coming with us?”
“I’ll help Megan clear up and see you back at the house,” Xander said to Dot.
“I’m sure you will,” she replied, squeezing his arm and giving me a little wink. “Would you like me to take Gus?”
“That would be great, actually,” Xander said, clipping Gus’s lead to his harness and handing him over. Gus looked a little disgruntled at first but then Dot mentioned treats and his ears pricked up as he trotted next to her.
When everyone had left and my parents had disappeared upstairs, clearly thinking I was too smitten with Xander to notice their constant whisperings in corners, Xander and I were alone.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing. Can you help me move this bookcase?”
He took my wrist gently and pulled me towards him. “Something’s the matter. Talk to me.”
“I’m being ridiculously sentimental about the bookshop. I know I want to move on, I know I haven’t got what it takes to save the business – I’m not even sure if it can be saved – but the thought of it not being here next Christmas is just…” I shook my head gently, looking at the bookshelves around me.
The bookshop had been my home for so long that I couldn’t imagine it not being here. It had also been my solace and my shelter since Joe’s death, a place I could return to and lick my wounds. I hadn’t minded paying for the refurbishment; I’d enjoyed rejigging all the bookshelves and making the space more welcoming, but I’d never felt I’d had the energy for much else. It had only been over the course of the last few months that I’d felt like throwing myself into a new project again, and that’s when Missy, Bella and I had decided to broaden our horizons when it came to book launches, to try to get big-name authors in rather than local authors. It had been a great idea and there was no denying that Xander’s launch had boosted sales, but I couldn’t see that even the unlimited energies of Philomena Bloom would get us out of the woods. Dad and Missy were right: eventually we’d have to sell. It was sensible to do it before we ploughed any more money into the business.
And I’d known, when we were all making the initial plans for Xander’s launch, that this wasn’t what I wanted to do – that marketing and budgets and double-entry spreadsheets were not where either my heart or my skill set lay – but I hadn’t wanted to face that fact or think about the future. Until Xander rammed his trolley into the back of my legs and everything changed.
My heart lay in the actual words that surrounded me every day. The words on the pages that sat upon the sage green bookshelves all around me. I was passionate about stories, about those stories being told in the best possible way and read by as many people as possible. I was good at selling books, at convincing people that this particular story was the one that would speak to their heart. I knew I could match people up to the right book, just as I’d always known the books that would light people up when I’d been an editor. But I had no idea how to get people through the door of Taylor’s in the first place so they could buy the books.
“I’m worried about Mum as well,” I said. “It’s been just the two of us for so long now and I couldn’t have got through the last few years without her. What will she do when I go off to pastures new and Dad has sold the only home she’s had for the last thirty years?”
“Your mum will understand,” Xander said, stepping closer to me and gently brushing my hair back from my face. “She wants you to be happy. After all, she was the one who encouraged you to have coffee with me in the first place.”
“Against my better judgement.”
He smiled slowly. “Maybe it was, but do you regret it?”
“No, I…” I hesitated again, my mouth dry at the proximity of him, the warmth of his body next to mine. I never thought I would feel like this again. “I don’t regret it at all.”
“Good,” he said. “And we can work the rest out together…”
“We?”
“If you want me to help, I will,” he whispered, ducking his head so his lips were close to mine and I could feel the warmth of his breath. “But before we do that, I want to do this.”
And then he kissed me, his lips hard against mine and his hands on my hips as he backed me against the nearest bookcase. As I kissed him back I felt, in that moment, that there was nowhere else I’d rather be and nobody else I wanted to be with.
*
“It’s late,” Xander whispered into my hair as we sat wrapped around each other in the reading nook of the shop. “I should go.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I murmured.
“I don’t want to go either,” he said softly, folding his fingers around mine. He looked down at our hands as though he couldn’t quite meet my eyes and I was suddenly very aware of the beating of my own heart.
When he looked at me again the air between us grew thick. I watched as he leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he said. “I don’t want to rush you.”
“I never expected this,” I said quietly. “I never expected the man who hit me with his trolley to be…”
“It wasn’t on purpose, you know,” he said quietly.
“Wasn’t it?”
He looked at me, catching my eye as though challenging me to guess the truth. “I never expected this either,” he said. I felt him shift, his thumb gently stroking my temple.
“Stay,” I said. Just one little word, but it felt like so much more. It had only been a few days since Xander had kissed me for the first time in the bookshop doorway, since I’d wondered if it was possible that I could have another relationship again, but already I knew that I wanted to try. I had to know where this was going.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
My head was telling me to change my mind, to say ‘no I’m not sure’, to give one of a thousand excuses as to why it would be a terrible idea… but they were nothing but excuses. My heart wanted him here with me. I wanted to get on with my life and I wanted to do that with Xander.
“I’m sure.” I paused. “Are you?”
“I’m sure,” he whispered, his lips brushing my forehead.