She’d done a similar thing at parties with Tim when she’d felt out of her depth—which was most of the time—laughing the loudest at jokes, or being the most complimentary about the food; anything to smother the voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough to be there.
“Something like that, yeah,” he said, wanly. “It’s not ideal, I know, but it’s the way I’ve learned to overcome my shyness.”
“I get it. But if you have to make another person feel uneasy as a way to ease your own discomfort, then you might want to adopt a different coping mechanism.”
“Noted,” Warren said, nodding. All his earlier bluster seemed to have dissipated. “Did I blow it?” he asked, looking at her and then down at his shoes.
God forgive her, she was a sucker for Bambi eyes. “No. You didn’t blow it. Just don’t give Ryan a hard time if you bump into him again, he’s my friend.”
Warren huffed out a self-conscious laugh. “Copy that.” And then added, “I hope he appreciates how lucky he is to have a friend who has his back.” She noted a tinge of something in his voice, wistfulness maybe?
“Isn’t that standard practice for friends?” she asked. “Otherwise, they’re not really friends.”
Warren smiled at her. “You are a nice person, FredrickaHallow-Hart. I am increasingly grateful to that courier for getting our envelopes mixed up.”
Fred’s insides warmed with the praise. How strange that a thing as simple as being told that you were a nice person could make you stand taller, feel braver, make you smile, inside as well as out. Yes, she thought to herself, after being made to feel for the longest time that she wasn’t worth much at all, she’d take being called a nice person gladly.
9
The rest of their timetogether was pleasant, and they left each other at around four o’ clock with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to see each other again. Fred wandered down to find her mum in the Hallow-Hart Crackers hut at the Forest Inn end of the high street. Now that it was dark, the pretty market with its twinkling lights really came into its own. It was impossible not to feel Christmassy when surrounded by so much festive hubbub.
“How’s it been?” Fred asked as she settled herself on the stool beside her mum, looking out of the window hatch of the hut.
“Pretty steady, all afternoon. I’ll be busy tonight, getting more stock made.”
“Want some help?”
“I’d love some. If you don’t mind.”
“I have no other plans. You’ll be saving me from binge-watchingLove Islandreruns.”
“Gracious. We can’t have that.”
“Did you know that the radiator in the bathroom isn’t working? It was like showering in a chest freezer this morning.”
“I did. Bloody thing. It did the same thing last year, but Diggory managed to get it going. I’ll ask him to take a look at it. The whole system needs replacing ideally, but it’s such a big cost and upheaval, I’ve been putting it off. Anyway, enough of that, how was the date?”
“Ummm…” Fred frowned, wondering how to reply.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
A couple stopped at the window and bought two boxes of crackers with a partridge in a pear tree design.
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Fred continued when the couple had left. “And he is very nice to look at, but he seems to have this persona when he’s around other people, and I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“It was only the second time you’ve met him. And you did say that he was in the process of getting a divorce, so maybe he’s keeping his barriers up until he knows you better.”
“I guess so.”
“Are you ready for serious dating again, or are you looking for a Christmas fling?”
It was a good question. Her focus hitherto had always been to settle down. She’d never wanted to be a serial dater like her mother. She chose carefully who she dated, listening only to her head and never anything as fallible as gut feeling or vibes. Maybe it was time to change tack.
“I don’t know. I haven’t had much luck with dating since Tim.”
“Oh, Tim was a pompous dickhead who never deserved you,” Bella snapped.
Fred smiled at her mum’s sharp retort. “I’m sensing you really had to hold back from telling him that directly.”
