A Country Village Christmas Read online

Olivia wandered over to a stall selling handmade tree ornaments and bought a couple, wryly musing on why she was adding to the stuff that needed removing from the house, not chucking more away. Then Tom joined her and they took their goodies back home. She hung up her coat, dropped everything in the kitchen and raced up to her room to fetch her phone.

  Five missed calls. A flare of panic raced across her skin as she checked them for anything to do with her dad. There were none, just a message from him telling her about someone he’d met in his residents’ lounge who had been a writer. It seemed he could sniff out an author at fifty paces and she rolled her eyes, sending a quick reply.

  The calls were all to do with work, three of them from her client in the States in the last hour and she felt it was a bit early, even for them. She played back the voicemails as she returned downstairs, listening to their concerns about the house they wanted and already composing a reply in her mind.

  To her surprise, Tom was waiting for her to begin eating and she pointed to her phone in apology. He nodded, unwrapping his turkey sandwich and his eyes lit up. Olivia suppressed the simple joy that blossomed inside her at seeing him happy. Her hot chocolate was cooling, and she sipped from it as she reached the last of her voicemails and brought up her calendar to schedule another call for Monday afternoon.

  She’d almost suggested taking the call later today but that would make it Saturday night and surely there ought to be some boundaries, a point where her professional and private lives didn’t have to permanently overlap. She would have a solution for them on Monday, and probably one that would include the search for a new property if their concerns about planning permission for alterations were still to the fore. She sat down and glanced at the rest of her emails – nothing too urgent, they could wait for a while – then finally she took her glasses off.

  ‘Sorry Tom, I didn’t realise you were planning to wait for me.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I didn’t say so and I should’ve realised you’d have work to catch up on seeing as you left your phone behind. On purpose?’

  ‘No, I actually forgot it, if you can believe that.’

  ‘And there was me thinking you just didn’t want any distractions whilst we were selling trees.’

  Olivia wasn’t about to confess that she was finding Tom much more of a distraction than clients or Christmas trees right now. ‘It was more fun without my phone, I will admit. I know I would’ve been checking in and then all I would have thought about was work.’

  ‘So you’re admitting to having fun with me?’

  ‘I didn’t say you specifically. Just that the market and the morning was fun. But the selfie thing with your fan was definitely fun.’

  Tom pulled a face. He’d finished eating and was watching Olivia as he sipped his hot chocolate. His face was unreadable and she assumed it must be all his drama experience that made it easy for him to shutter his thoughts from her. She unlocked her phone and opened up the Twitter app. She updated the password to her dad’s old account and found a few new authors and booksellers to follow.

  ‘So I had a thought about the shop and Twitter. Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘Won’t your dad want to know first?’

  ‘No, he’d love the idea, he won’t mind in the least. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t want the new password to send a few tweets of his own. He’s a dab hand with his smartphone.’

  ‘Are you really going to do this?’ Tom’s fingers were tapping a quick rhythm against his cup. ‘What do you want to achieve by starting it up again? The shop will be shut again soon once the house is sold.’

  ‘That’s a good question.’ Olivia softened her tone, made sure to sound composed and neutral to remove any threat he may be trying to perceive. ‘I think it might generate more interest in the shop, maybe bring in extra customers. Sell some books. Maybe let them know about you being here, looking after it.’ She paused. ‘Does that concern you?’

  ‘Some. It’s not the recognition as such, I don’t mind if a few people want selfies now and again.’ He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. ‘It’s more about what I’m doing here. Playing around in a shop, trying to write a book. Not really working. Some people will wonder. Maybe start looking.’

  ‘What is it you’re afraid of, Tom? Will you tell me? Help me understand?’ She closed the app down, slid the phone away. The room seemed to be singing with silence and she wondered if she had gone too far.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tom’s agitated hand was rubbing his jaw, his eyes burning into hers. ‘I’m not sure you can understand when you haven’t been where I have. Never experienced failure like I have.’

  ‘Why would you assume you’ll fail again? You just need to try, to—’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Olivia.’ He slammed his cup down, spilling the dregs of his hot chocolate onto the table. ‘You haven’t been told no time and again when you’ve stood in front of a producer or a director, told that you’re just not quite what they had in mind, sorry. Or that being so well known for one character makes it difficult for them to give you a chance at something else.

  ‘How can you possibly understand what it’s like to say no to something you’re not sure is right for you and then be dropped by everyone around you because you did? As though your achievements amount to nothing because it’s all about what comes next. The next big part, movie, drama, play, whatever.’

  Tom lifted a hand and gestured at the room they occupied. ‘You grew up with a family around you, standing at your side and supporting you when you needed it. And you take it all for granted.’ He was blazing now, and Olivia was shocked by the words he was aiming at her. ‘Your dad, this house, your home, maybe even your daughter. You have no time for you and barely any more for your dad, and he misses you. Do you ever think about that? My friendship with him is the closest I’ve come to having a proper father again, someone who understands me. That means the world to me and I’d do anything for him.’

  Olivia shoved her chair back, feeling the stab of truth, the guilt she always carried as she stood up, wanting to get away from Tom and the words he was hurling at her. The reminder came again that maybe she could do more, should have done more for her dad – kept a better eye on him and been more present in his life. Was this what Tom really thought of her and her career? She was clutching the chair, heart racing.

  ‘You want to know the real reason I gave up acting, Olivia? Why I don’t do it any more?’ There was a bitter irony in Tom’s question. ‘Because a couple of nights into that last play I discovered I couldn’t speak properly, couldn’t get my words out in the right order. I’d struggled with shyness as a kid, and it was only when I got into drama at school that I learned how to overcome it. I was lucky enough then to have a teacher who believed in me and pushed me to go further, and I made it to drama school and then a career. I thought it was behind me until the play came along.’ Tom’s eyes were shimmering with hurt. ‘There you go. Tweet that.’

  They were staring at one another and she was shaking, hating that her bottom lip was trembling as she fought to control her own tears. She hated that there was some truth about her life amidst the scorn that Tom had flung at her. And her dad, her lovely dad. She swallowed, refusing to allow more guilt to diminish her even further in this moment. She reached for her phone, calmly moving around the table. Tom was staring at her, a muscle twitching in his cheek, as though he couldn’t quite believe what’d he actually said.

  ‘I’m sorry for what you went through and how your career ended.’ Olivia was thankful she was able to manage a level tone. She could’ve yelled, ranted, accused him of interfering where he had no business, as he had. ‘And you’re quite right, Tom, I know there are some changes I should make. You said before that you thought I was many things and I think the same of you. But I didn’t have you down as someone clinging onto failure and using it as an excuse not to try again. Write your book. Or not. Like you said, who’s going to notice if you don’t?’

 
‘Olivia.’ Tom’s hand was urgent on her arm as she tried to hurry past him, and she shook it off. ‘Please, I…’

  ‘Don’t, Tom.’ She turned to look at him from the doorway. ‘How can I possibly understand your life when my own is obviously perfect?’ She hurried out to run up the stairs, ignoring him as he falteringly called her name again before letting it fade away.

  * * *

  Someone was knocking loudly on the back door and Olivia couldn’t imagine who it could be. She was in the spare bedroom, furiously sorting out piles of belongings and ignoring thoughts of work. Tom had disappeared after their fight almost an hour ago and she hadn’t seen him since. She ran downstairs, marched through to the kitchen and opened the door, astonished to see two middle-aged men smiling brightly at her.

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ one of them said. ‘We saw the sign for the bookshop but it’s closed. Are you opening the shop this afternoon?’

  ‘Oh!’ Olivia glanced at the kitchen clock. It was one thirty and Tom would normally have opened up by now. She wondered if he had forgotten or changed his mind after what had taken place between them. She was about to tell the two men that the shop was closed for the day and then decided not to.

  ‘We are yes, I’m sorry about that.’ She pointed to the annexe. ‘If you wouldn’t mind giving me a minute to find the keys I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘Are you sure? That’s kind of you. We used to love visiting Bradshaw’s when it was in town.’

  Olivia shut the door as they ambled off. She found the keys and pulled on a coat. The heating should be on in the bookshop but without the fire it would probably still be cool. She made sure to bring her phone too so she could keep an eye on her emails. If Tom wasn’t going to open the shop, then she would. Messing about in there was more appealing than creating piles to cart off for recycling and she had no desire to continue emptying her dad’s home of its history.

  She opened up the annexe and left the two men to browse. The little Christmas tree seemed sad without its lights and she switched it on, instantly making the room a little cheerier. It was chilly inside, despite the heating, and if she were actually planning to stay all afternoon then it would be better to light the fire; at this rate she’d be perished even with her coat on. There was a Bluetooth speaker on the desk; that must be Tom’s too, she’d never seen it before. Now seemed as good a time as any to have a Christmas playlist going.

  Business was bound to be hopelessly slow, even if Tom had left the old wooden sign at the front of the house to entice people in. If anyone else did find the shop then Olivia expected them to wander in, declare it quaint and hurry back out again without making a purchase. She rolled up newspaper and placed it in the hearth, added sticks, found the matches and lit the fire. Her two customers stayed for twenty minutes or so and then left, having paid for five books on railways and military history between them.

  To her surprise she did have more potential customers within half an hour. A man and two women appeared, confirming they’d spotted the sign and thrilled with the effect of a real fire. Olivia offered a welcome and left them to explore, distracted by an existing client’s email request for a new property in Lancashire. Before they left one of the women positioned herself at the desk and bought three books on politics and dropped some change in the fell rescue donation box.

  Olivia realised that she was actually beginning to enjoy herself, the Christmas playlist a soothing backdrop to the quiet old room. She had pulled plenty of Saturday shifts in her dad’s shop before now and this had a feeling of familiarity to it. When the door rattled again she looked up, expecting visitors. Tom stood on the threshold, and she felt her anxiety leap a level, matching the one she read in his uncertain face.

  ‘I should take over.’ He was still holding the door open. ‘It’s my responsibility, I’m sure you need to work.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’ She was stung by his words. Was he really going to be pathetic enough to cling onto the remnants of their row and dredge it all up again? Use her work against her? ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I wasn’t being sarcastic, I promise. If you need to work then you should have the space to do it.’ He hesitated. ‘And I think we need to talk.’

  ‘No, we don’t.’ Olivia was busy with her emails, happy to try and ignore him. Suddenly Christmas seemed a long way off as she thought of the days ahead with Tom in the house. ‘You were perfectly clear. And could you shut the door, it’s freezing and you’re letting all the heat out.’

  The door closed and as far as she was concerned he was on the wrong side of it. He crossed the shop to stand in front of the fire while she continued swiping at her screen.

  ‘Olivia, please. At least let me apologise.’

  ‘For what? Speaking the truth?’

  ‘I want to say I’m sorry for bringing you into something that’s really my problem.’ Tom sighed. ‘I should never have said those things about your family and your career, it simply wasn’t fair. I can see how hard you work, and you’ve earned every single one of your considerable achievements.’

  ‘Have I?’ Suddenly Olivia’s voice was small and she was appalled to hear a catch in it. ‘When my clients have more of me than my own family does?’

  ‘Hey.’ Tom was at the desk now, reaching out to touch her free hand briefly. ‘Don’t. You do what you can and your dad’s so proud of you.’

  ‘He said that to you? But at what cost?’ One shoulder rose in a shrug and Tom stepped away as another customer entered. It seemed a lifetime until she paid for a nice copy of Wuthering Heights and left.

  ‘This is no place for a conversation,’ he said as the door closed, leaving them surrounded by books and bedlam. ‘I’m tempted to bring the sign in until we’ve talked.’

  ‘Tom, we just have to do our best to get through this time until I leave. You’ve said all you need to. Thank you for apologising, I’m sorry too. Now just let me get on. I can’t make you fight for something you don’t want.’

  ‘Fight for what? What don’t I want?’

  Olivia banged a hand on the desk, making her phone bounce. ‘For your future. For your book, another chance at a career. You have a chance, here.’ She’d almost said, ‘with me’ and was relieved that she hadn’t actually gone quite so far, such words would have been impossible to take back. If friends were all they could be then she would still take it. She’d never met anyone before in her life – not even when she’d run off with a wild guitarist and married him – who’d made her want to care so much. Madness, but here she was.

  ‘I don’t think it’s that simple any more, staying here.’ Tom spoke slowly. ‘Not for me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She whispered the words, waited to hear his reply.

  His smile was rueful, then gone. ‘Being your friend when really I want to be more. To trust you and for you to trust me. But maybe it’s just me who feels that way?’

  ‘Maybe it’s not.’ Olivia’s gaze was clear on Tom’s and she saw the rush of pleasure in his face before she carried on. ‘But I don’t have the time and you have to work too, you need a book you can sell at the end of all this. Let’s just leave it at that. We can do this.’

  ‘Can we?’

  ‘We’ll have to. Maybe if we’d met another time, another way.’

  There was a moment when she knew they were both thinking about hugging and he stepped away, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘Why don’t you go back, I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Really, I’m fine.’ She nodded to prove she meant it, swallowed down the disappointment of not acting on what she felt. ‘Go and write. You’ve already missed a morning and I bet my dad wants a progress report.’

  ‘He does.’ Tom smiled in that way she found so lovely and which really didn’t help her resolve to remain only friends. ‘Thank you, are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. Get out of my way, there’s barely enough room in here for one shop assistant, never mind two. I’ll be a brilliant bookseller; I bet I can shift loads o
f stock before five o’clock.’

  ‘I doubt it. But I am curious to hear how you get on.’ He was at the door, ready to open it. ‘I’m about to introduce a hot new love interest for my character and I’m thinking of making her a bookseller who annoys the hell out of him.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Olivia really didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious.

  ‘Try me.’

  Surely Tom wasn’t thinking of her. Was he? ‘I’m not a bookseller.’

  ‘From where I’m standing you look a lot like one right now.’ There was a moment as she waited to see if he would say more, but he didn’t need to, she saw that same resolve wavering in the way he was staring at her.

  ‘Then go and write it.’ She chucked a book at him, ignoring the flutter in her stomach. The book slid harmlessly to the floor without touching him and he laughed. ‘I want a progress report about what they’re up to when I come back.’

  ‘Can’t do that, sorry.’ Tom opened the door, stepped outside. ‘You’ll have to wait for the book to come out.’

  ‘Maybe I can help you with the research.’ She hadn’t really meant to say that out loud and his eyes narrowed delectably.

  ‘Whilst that’s a welcome suggestion, you should know I have an excellent imagination.’

  ‘And plenty of experience, no doubt,’ she muttered as he headed back to the house, taking that cheeky grin with him. She was so flustered by thoughts of Tom’s character and what he might be up to that she very nearly pressed send on an email to a client that she meant for Ellie, catching up about her daughter’s visit next weekend. That wouldn’t do, Olivia thought dryly, she couldn’t have her clients thinking she had a social life of her own.

  Two older men strolled in whilst she was still holding her phone and she noticed one of them pick up a copy of Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory, then put it down again. Soon he came to the desk, two American literary novels and a book on Victorian poetry in his hand. He pointed to the Capote book.