“Are you, now?” He cut her off, pulling his gaze from his coffee to look at her. “What exactly are you sorry for?” he asked. His tone made it clear that this was not a rhetorical question, and she quailed at the hollowness in his eyes.
Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I didn’t mean for Mum to break up with you. I mean, I did at first—because I was surprised and because I’m judgy and I blurt stuff out before I’ve engaged my brain—and then I didn’t, but all hellbroke loose in the kitchen with the article before I had the chance to tell her that she had my blessing. Not that you need it; if you guys want to be together, then of course you should be. And honestly there is no one else I would rather she was with than you.” She gasped in a breath, and continued. “I was only worried because you know how she used to be and I didn’t want either of you to get hurt. But that’s not my call, and then Mum left and she’s not answering her phone, and I have fucked everything up so badly I don’t know what to do and I am so, so sorry.” She took another deep breath. “Do you know where she is? I can make this right. Don’t give up on her. Please. Don’t give up on me either.”
He looked away from her, shaking his head. “I don’t know where she’s gone. But I do know that every decision Bella has ever made has had you at the heart of it.”
It felt like an accusation, and it almost doubled her over.
“The aunts said there were things I don’t know,” she said quietly, hoping that he might take pity on her and fill in the gaps.
Liam opened his mouth, and then he seemed to reconsider. He took a moment, stared into his cooling Americano, and said, “Bella would never want you to be burdened, and I respect her too much to go against her wishes. But it’s always been for you, Fred, all of it.”
Fred left the pub in a state of deep apprehension. She’d muttered some further meager apologies to Liam, but her thoughts were a muddled panic as she found herself walking quickly toward Frost Hardware, pushing against the tide ofpeople who swarmed along the street. The snow was falling fast, and it whipped against her hot cheeks, goaded by a bitter wind that felt personal. The Naughty List outside the shop had been updated. Every other name had been rubbed out and replaced withFred Hallow-Hart, each iteration of her name made out in a different hand.
“Shit!” she hissed under her breath.
The bell jangled above her head as she pushed open the door and walked into the quiet shop. Martha looked up, smiling, from where she was wrapping presents on the counter for the grotto, but her smile melted upon seeing Fred, dissolving any resemblance between her and the jolly Mrs. Christmas.
“How’s Diggory?” Fred asked.
“He’s fine. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.” She continued with her wrapping, tearing the sticky tape with just a little too much ferocity.
“Good. I’m glad he’s okay. It must have been scary—”
“Ryan’s not here,” Martha said in a clipped voice, cutting her off. “And I’m not sure I’d tell you where he was, even if I knew.”
“I know. I’ve come to see you.” As desperate as she was to sort things out with Ryan, she needed to know the reason for this gnawing feeling in her insides first.
Martha raised an eyebrow.
“I need you to tell me about Mum and Liam…” She left a beat. “If I’m going to sort out the mess I’ve made with Mum, I need to understand.”
She watched as Martha chewed the inside of her cheek, debating, assessing her.
“Please,” she implored her. “You’re her oldest and best friend.”
“Why don’t you ask your mum?” Martha tied a bow on the gift and pulled it tight.
Fred gulped. “Well, I can’t find her, and she won’t answer her phone. And even if she did, I don’t think she’d tell me everything. Not because I think she’s a liar but because she wants to protect me. I’m starting to get that now.”
“About time,” Martha retorted, snipping the ends off the bow with a large pair of scissors.
“I know.” Fred looked down at the floor. “Maybe if I understand the past, I can work on making us both happier in the future.”
Martha sighed and laid down the scissors. “I’ll put the kettle on. Flip the sign on the door round to closed, and then come on through.”
Fred did as she was told. Pushing through a heavy damask curtain behind the counter, she found herself in a small parlor with a table and three chairs, a sink and worktop area, and Welsh dressers on two walls. She’d had many happy times sitting up at this table as a child with Ryan, drinking orange squash and eating biscuits. Martha set down a teapot and a plate of shortbread and followed up with two mugs, then took a seat, motioning for Fred to do the same.
Martha poured them each a cup of tea.
“I’m sure you know all about how your mum ended up living with the aunts.”
“I know that she was abandoned by my father and disowned by my granddad,” Fred confirmed, and Martha nodded.
“She was about four months pregnant when the Christmas market arrived, and she met Liam for the first time. The chemistry between them was obvious right from the start, but your mum was pregnant and her experience with your father had made her cautious. I’d only known her a few weeks by then, but we were already firm friends, what with us both carrying. I was ten years older than your mum, and I already had two kids; I suppose I kind of took her under my wing. I could see that she was head over heels for Liam. And he was for her. But they didn’t become a couple, as it were, until the year you turned two. Their flirtation went on for so long, even Jane Austen would have told them to get a move on.”
Fred almost spilled her tea. “Liam and Mum were together? Before? I didn’t know that!”
“You were very young, and they were discreet.”
