It’s a stand with rows of beautifully knitted gloves and scarves run by a tiny squat lady covered head to toe in her own creations.
‘Oh, these are nice,’ Kit says as Haf points out a thick green scarf that matches her coat. ‘Are you going to get something?’
The stallholder looks hopefully up at them, but keeps her lips pressed together in a polite smile. If Haf was being sensible, she would spend the last few pounds in her sad bank account ona pair of Fair Isle red and white gloves that catch her eye, but instead she shoves her hands deeper into her coat pockets.
‘I don’t get paid until after Christmas,’ she sighs.
‘Urgh, the worst.’
‘Do you have a website?’ she asks the seller, who tells her about the various places she can buy her wares and hands her a business card.
Kit is still eyeing the green scarf, and slips off a glove to touch it.
‘You should get it,’ encourages Haf. ‘It looks soft.’
‘Yeah, actually, I will,’ she says, and luckily, is busy getting her card out and paying as Sally walks past them, sauntering off into the distance.
Haf watches her vanish and breathes a sigh of relief.
‘How do I look?’ Her attention snaps back to Kit, who has wrapped the scarf around her face so that the tip of her nose peeks out over it.
There are so many words she wants to say, but instead Haf goes for a safe and enthusiastic ‘Great!’ with a thumbs up to seal the deal.
‘Come on, let’s get some food in you,’ says Kit. ‘I can hear your stomach gurgling all the way from here.’
Another time, Haf might have been embarrassed to know her stomach could be heard through a thick scarf, but she’s too flooded with relief to care.
An enormous floury bap stuffed with melt-in-your-mouth roasted pork slathered in apple sauce later, and Haf feels a little restored. Kit too.
‘What do you want to do now we’ve fed you?’ Kit asks. ‘There’s the snowman contest, which they’ll probably judge soon before all the kids fall asleep. Then a bit of shopping, and you can drink some more mulled wine? Do you want the last of my mulledcider, actually? I don’tthinkit’s booze, but honestly, I can’t tell when it’s hot,’ Kit says and offers her cup out to Haf.
There’s a lipstick mark on the rim, and Haf can’t drag her brain from it. Those cherry-red lips in their wry smile... Why does mulled alcohol go to her head so quickly?
‘I—’ she begins, feeling completely star-struck.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll just tip it out,’ Kit says, emptying it into the snow.
‘Sorry, I think I’ve probably had enough already. Let’s just mooch, shall we?’ she manages after a moment.
Kit nods, and they both wander off through the fête.
Everything is kind of perfect. At one of the stalls, Kit buys some home-made fudge, and Haf buys a tiny jar of local honey for Ambrose, who likes to swirl it into their tea. There are stalls filled with stunning pottery and paintings and cakes, so many cakes.
They reach the snowmen contest, where all the little snow people are assembled in a row, all slightly different. Most of them are the usual generic snowman, but there’s some kind of snow-monster, possibly a yeti, and someone has obviously whacked a pair of boobs supported by a lacy bra onto the front of one of them. The children stand hopefully by their creations as the mayor inspects them all. Esther watches on, garlands in hand to crown the winners. She gives Kit and Haf a little wave when she spots them.
All is perfect and well and Christmassy.
But then she spots a flash of orange. Sally is back and heading right towards them. Haf curses herself for not paying attention, too distracted by the nice time she was having with Kit.
‘Wow, look at this one, Kit! It’s a very, very good snowman,’ she says loudly, hoping to drag her attention.
Kit naturally just gives her a slightly confused but amused look, but continues to glance around.
‘No really, Kit. Come admire the creativity of these children.’ Desperation is creeping into her voice almost as quickly as Sally is approaching.
‘I didn’t realise you cared so much about snow. Or children.’ Kit laughs, joining her in front of one that really isn’t very creative. It’s just a bog-standard snowman, and not even a very big one at that. ‘Oh hey, is that Sally?’
Haf has to bite her tongue to stop herself from swearing loudly in front of a large group of children.
