“So are you,” Alyssa replied. She realized she was smiling like an idiot and tried to dial it back, but it didn’t work.
“Shall we?” Evelyn said.
They walked side by side through the city’s early winter darkness, Bug weaving a lazy figure-eight around their ankles. The market was only a few blocks away, but the closer they got, the more the air vibrated with music, the scent of roasted chestnuts, and the shouts of people hawking everything from mulled wine to novelty baubles.
“I don’t remember it always being this packed.” Evelyn said as they pushed through the first wave of tourists.
Alyssa considered. “It’s London at Christmas. I think this is normal.” She steered them toward the less-crowded side street, the one lined with stalls selling handmade soaps and scented candles.
Bug, predictably, made a beeline for the bakery tent. Alyssa followed, and Evelyn followed Alyssa, which made Alyssa’s heart jump a little. They sampled cinnamon rolls and then something called a “mince pie doughnut,” which Evelyn declared “offensively good.”
They stopped to watch a busker playing “Last Christmas” on a violin. The woman’s hair was a mass of black curls that rivalled Alyssa’s own, and for a moment, Alyssa caught Evelyn looking at her, eyes soft and maybe a little vulnerable.
“What?” Alyssa asked.
Evelyn shook her head, smiling. “I was just thinking how nice it is to see this place from your side of things.”
“My side?”
“There’s something about you here. You’re more…grounded, I guess. Like your mind isn’t somewhere else, thinking of a million problems that might crop up.”
Alyssa blinked. No one except Lil had ever said that to her before. “Is that a good thing?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself, Ms Crawford.”
Evelyn laughed, deep and clear. “Do you want to see my favourite stall?”
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “You have a favourite?”
“Of course. I’ve been coming here for years. We’ve sponsored the market for over a decade now.”
Evelyn led the way, weaving confidently through the crowd until they reached a small, dimly lit tent at the edge of the market. Inside, paper lanterns in varying shades of green andgold hung overhead, casting a warm glow. The air was heavy with fresh pine and something sharper—citrus, perhaps.
The vendor, an older woman with a shock of white hair and a knowing smile, looked up as they entered. “Evelyn, darling it’s so wonderful to see you again!” she called, her Brixton accent unmistakable. “I saved you one, like I do every year. I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
Alyssa wondered what the woman meant by that. Evelyn’s face lit up in a way Alyssa had never seen before. “You’re the best, Imelda.”
The woman produced a wreath made entirely of rosemary, bay leaves, and dried oranges. Evelyn took it with both hands, inhaling deeply. “It smells like my mum’s kitchen.”
Imelda turned her attention to Alyssa, looking her up and down with frank appraisal. “Who’s this then?”
Alyssa could feel herself blushing. “Alyssa Fox. I run the dog sanctuary up the road.”
Imelda looked from Alyssa back to Evelyn with a smirk. “You two have a lovely evening, yeah?”
Alyssa glanced at Evelyn, who was looking at her with an expression halfway between pleased and slightly embarrassed.
“We will,” Alyssa said, and meant it.
They left Imelda’s stall with the wreath in tow, Bug making friends with every child and pensioner who offered him a scratch. Alyssa bought a pair of gingerbread men, one with an evil-looking grin, and they ate them while watching a troupe of middle-aged carollers perform “All I Want for Christmas is You” with alarming sincerity.
As the evening wore on, the crowd thinned, the lights glowed warmer, and Alyssa found herself walking closer to Evelyn than she had planned. She liked the way Evelyn’s arm brushed hers every few steps, liked the way their conversationmeandered from work to childhood stories to the most embarrassing things they’d ever done on a first date.
Evelyn’s was impressively mortifying. “I once dropped a full glass of Merlot in a woman’s lap and then tried to mop it up with my sleeve.”
Alyssa tried to top that, but the best she could do was, “I once lost a bet and had to take someone out to a fancy restaurant wearing a ridiculous Christmas jumper. In July.”
