Chapter 22
‘Do you have any more of these designs, please? Or anything else with the two robins on?’
Scarlett blinked as a customer thrust a cushion cover depicting a snow scene with two robins perching on a branch beneath her nose, breaking her view of Rowan selling his coffee bags from his stall next to her.
Turning her attention to the woman in front of her, she smiled.
‘Hi, yes, I should have. Just give me one moment and I’ll take a look. ’
‘Thank you. My gran loves robins, and these will just be perfect for her front room.’ The woman pushed a couple of framed prints to one side before plonking down her large handbag on the stall and rummaging through it.
Leaning beneath the table, Scarlett quickly searched in the large plastic boxes she’d stashed beneath with extra items in.
She’d always believed in the philosophy of bringing more than she needed, and she was glad she had because Meadowfield’s Christmas market was heaving with visitors.
When Jill had promised her there’d be a good turnout, Scarlett had expected a couple of hundred people but it had only opened to the public an hour and a half ago and she’d already had to dip into her overflow stash for Christmas mugs and coasters.
‘I have this one. It has a slightly different background, but still has the two robins.’
The woman picked it up, inspecting the design on the front before turning it over to check the back and handing it back to Scarlett. ‘I’ll take it, please. I think they’re similar enough.’
‘Okay, great.’ Scarlett folded the cushion covers in quarters before slipping them both into a bag and taking the woman’s money. ‘Sometimes it’s nice to have cushions a little different, I think.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it will add to the charm of her front room.’ Taking the bag, the woman stalked off.
Scarlett shook her head. She was pretty certain the ‘charm’ comment hadn’t been particularly complimentary to her work, but who cared?
She’d still sold two cushion covers and hopefully they’d be more appreciated by the recipient of the gift.
A loud burst of laughter caught her attention, and she looked across towards the ice rink beneath the tree.
A group of teenagers was clinging to the railings as they inched slowly around the rink.
She grinned; she remembered only too well her first – and last – attempt at ice skating.
It had been just before her mum had passed away, so she must have been about seven years old, and her parents had taken her away to Bath for a long weekend before Christmas.
She remembered it vividly because she’d been allowed to have the Friday and Monday off school, and her dad had told her to play ‘sick’ on the Thursday to avoid suspicion.
She’d taken that task in hand only too well and been sent home the Thursday lunchtime, giving her extra time to pack in anticipation for their weekend holiday away.
She absentmindedly ran her forefinger across the small scar on her thumb, her lasting reminder of her attempt at ice skating.
She’d do anything to go back to that weekend right now.
Back to when all she had to worry about was trying to decide what to write on her Christmas list to Santa or what colour she should paint the small terracotta plant pot her dad had helped her choose to buy her mum for Christmas.
Not that it had mattered. Her mum had never received the plant pot, never potted the flowers for spring, never exclaimed how detailed the design was.
A few years later, Scarlett had found that plant pot again stashed beneath her bed, right up against the wall, and she’d painted it, decorated it with cats, cake and magnolia trees, all her mum’s favourite things, before planting a rose bush inside and setting it beside her mum’s headstone.
Scarlett had liked to think her mum would have approved of her choice in the end.
‘You look deep in thought.’ Rowan’s voice interrupted her memories, drawing her back to the now.
Glancing up, Scarlett smiled. She’d hoped to have time before the visitors descended to go and speak to him but after getting caught up at Pennycress with a new guest who had arrived early whilst Nicola had been out at the suppliers, she’d only just managed to get set up in time let alone have a moment to clear the air between them. ‘Hi, yes, sorry, I was miles away.’
‘Dreaming of being able to relax with a nice hot coffee, perhaps?’ He chuckled.
‘Something like that.’ She shrugged. This most definitely wasn’t the time or the place to divulge what she really had been thinking about.
‘Well, in that case, I can help you with one of those.’ Bringing his arm from around his back, he held out a takeaway coffee cup. ‘Unfortunately, the relaxing side of things will have to wait.’
‘Oh, wow! Thank you. You don’t know how much I need this.’ Taking the cup, she took a sip before glancing across at his stall. ‘It looks as though you’ve got customers.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Rowan turned before looking back at her and lowering his voice. ‘We’re okay though? Sorry, I know I was a bit awkward earlier, but I really do want to carry on our friendship. If you want that too, of course.’
‘I do.’ Scarlett nodded. Or more.
‘Great. Well, I’ll catch you later then.’ Rowan smiled before turning back and jogging across to his stall.
Placing the coffee cup down, she turned to one of her own customers who was trying to unhook a Christmas-themed mug from the mug tree. She was sure she recognised her from the bakery or the grocers, certainly from one of the shops in Meadowfield. ‘Hi, can I help you with that?’
‘Oh yes, please dear. I’m all fingers and thumbs today.’ The woman held out her hand and wriggled her fingers. ‘I’m blaming it on too much knitting yesterday evening and with that and all the extra baking to get stocked up for today.’
‘Aw, you knit? Are you working on something nice?’ Ah yes, Mrs Pierce from the bakery. She’d heard Laura mention her name. Unhooking the mug, she held it out for the woman’s approval before wrapping it in red tissue paper.
‘A little cardigan for my great-granddaughter.’ Mrs Pierce beamed as pride flushed across her features. ‘It’s a lovely lilac with tiny silver snowflakes cascading across it.’
‘Wow, that sounds beautiful.’ Scarlett smiled.
‘Thank you. I’m a late bloomer, I’m afraid, and only started knitting when I found out my granddaughter was pregnant, so I missed out on knitting for my own children and my grandchildren.’ Mrs Pierce pulled a flowery purse from her coat pocket.
‘You’ve got a lot of catching up to do then?’ Scarlett grinned.
‘Haha, I certainly do. This little one will be blessed with a constant supply of knitted cardigans, jumpers, bonnets and blankets.’ Mrs Pierce chuckled as she passed across the money for the mug.
‘Right, I’d better get back to the bakery.
I’ve left my weekend staff in charge, and I promised I wouldn’t be longer than fifteen minutes.
I probably shouldn’t have popped out as we’re so busy but every year I’m rushed off my feet with customers and miss out on all the lovely handcrafted items, so this year I promised myself I’d get away, even for a short while. ’
‘I can sympathise there. I rarely get a chance to escape from behind my own stall to take a look at what others are selling.’ Scarlett glanced around the market.
There was so much on offer. Even if she only managed to sneak across to the stall selling soy candles and wax melts she’d be happy.
One of their big candles would be the perfect Christmas present for Laura.
‘I hope you get to take a look. If you do, make sure to check out the infused oils at the end over there.’ Mrs Pierce pointed to the left. ‘I’ve just stocked up myself.’
‘Ah, they sound good. I’ll check them out, thanks.
’ A present for Jackson, perhaps? Scarlett waved as Mrs Pierce headed back to the bakery, carrying two bags brimming with goodies she’d found at the stalls.
Turning to the next customer in line, Scarlett grinned.
Hopefully by the end of today she’d have enough money to replace the heater in the camper in case the thermal fuse didn’t fix it.