‘Margi? Are you listening?’
‘Hmm?’ I snap out of the vision.
‘You were thinking about kissing me. You were looking at my mouth.’ He’s smiling broadly now, and if he wasn’t so genuine and kind, I’d think he was toying with me.
‘Who is this person?’ I say, trying anything to break the tension. ‘What happened to Patrick? I can’t cope with you smiling and being all sure of yourself like this. Seriously, it’s throwing me.’ He tries to straighten his lips, looking chastened. ‘We need to act normal or else,’ I warn.
‘Or else people will think I like you?’ he says.
‘Yes.’
‘And they’ll think you like me?’ he goes on.
‘Maybe.’
‘And don’t we?’ There’s so much sincerity in his eyes I can’t look at him.
‘That’s neither here nor there, is it?’ I reply.
‘Stop that.’ His voice is firm.
This draws me up short.
‘Just stop,’ he says again.
He reaches for my free hand and presses it flat against his chest.
‘Let’s not throw this away like it’s nothing,’ he says, and he’s not joking around now.
I wish he was. I wish he would turn back into the giddy, excited Patrick of earlier, because this is exactly what I’m afraid of. This is what happens when things get too real and there are feelings involved.
‘Patrick, please…’
A tap at the passenger window makes me shriek. The shadow outside jumps about a foot into the air. Patrick drops my hand and we all look back and forth at each other. The face at the glass is joined by another, and I roll the window down.
‘I scared you?’ says Sully Scrimengor. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Leo Bold adds with an apologetic wave from over Sully’s shoulder.
‘You weren’t interrupting anything,’ I say, rearranging my face so I look like a respectable member of the community who hasn’t been kissing in a magical forest with an achingly attractive handyman fifteen years her junior.
‘OK,’ Sully says, doubtfully, and I catch him throwing a glance at Leo who’s now back to being as serious as the day I first met him, only he looks a bit bee-stung around the mouth too – as does Sully, come to think of it.
‘We’ve been thinking, and the thing is…’ Sully goes on, ‘we’ve come up with a solution.’
‘To your grotto problems,’ Leo adds, already finishing Sully’s sentences like a proper couple. ‘The school board have agreed that you can have the gymnasium for a new gingerbread grotto. I’ve already done the risk assessment.’ He holds up an A4 file as proof.
I stare back at the men.
‘You want to use the gymnasium to host a display of gingerbread biscuits?’ I say, incredulous.
‘A model gingerbread village,’ Leo Bold replies. ‘A historic community event.’
Sully echoes his words encouragingly, nodding and smiling, suggesting these were originally Sully’s words, his sales pitch to convince Leo to help us.
‘So, technically,’ Leo goes on, ‘it’s educational, if you really think about it. And that’s what I’m planning on telling the Ofsted inspector if he turns up, but mainly, I think, it’s good to do things to make the children happy, especially at Christmas.’
‘But…’ I look between their faces and Patrick’s. ‘Everything got flattened, and soaked, remember? There is no gingerbread and no grotto either.’
