Vicky spluttered a laugh. ‘What on earth was he thinking by buying a house in Holly Cross?’ She watched her friend’s expression change. ‘He doesn’t know what happens here at Christmas, does he?’
‘Long story but no he’s not exactly got the full picture.’ Blythe winced at her own words.
‘He will notice soon enough when the whole village is lit up like Piccadilly Circus.’
‘I’m kind of hoping I can win him round before then because he’s massively over-reacting isn’t he?’
‘Hmm.’ Vicky pondered what she’d heard. ‘Good luck turning him from Scrooge to Santa in twelve weeks.’
Blythe fixed her with a glint in her eye. ‘Are you saying you don’t think I can change his mind?’
‘I think it’s a long shot but I’d like to see you do it.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
Vicky pressed her lips together. ‘If you like. If you fail, you buy me those fancy Christmas crackers I’ve always liked.’
‘And what if I win?’
‘Then it’s homemade crackers with the insides of loo rolls for everyone and I’ll make you a personalised set,’ said Vicky.
‘Deal.’ And they clinked their glasses.
Vicky sipped her water and looked longingly at the wine.
‘Anyway, how are things with you?’ asked Blythe.
‘I’ll start with the good things, because I always like to be positive,’ said Vicky. ‘I now have twelve dogs signed up to Hot Dogs.’ Vicky puffed out a breath. ‘Otherwise it’s same old same old. It’s like I have two lives. One where everything is perfect when I’m with Eden and we do mummy and daughter stuff and then the other one where I hate every dull minute of packing boxes at the candle factory.’ The one good thing about her job at the factory was that she didn’t have to think about it. Candles trundled along one side of her and she picked them up with her left hand, gave them a quick quality check and put them in a box before that went off on another conveyer belt the other side of her. She could do it with her eyes closed. She had actually done that experiment to prove that she could but it hadn’t worked so well for the quality control aspect of her role. The factory wasn’t the most modern but the job wasn’t taxing and it paid her enough.
‘But it pays the bills,’ said Blythe.
‘Only just. How’s your job?’
‘Ludo still thinks I’m a liability and I’m not sure how I’m going to win him round. Amir is an even bigger arse now he’s got a sign on his desk that says office manager. Oh, and guess who has friended me on Facebook?’
‘Father Christmas.’ Vicky opened the sharing bag of crisps and took a handful, only half listening to Blythe.
‘Nope, one more guess. It’s a blast from the past,’ offered Blythe as a hint.
That piqued Vicky’s interest. ‘Not that bloke from the German sausage stand who you snogged at the Christmas fayre?’
‘Klaus? Not him. He stank of onions. No, the person who has friended me on Facebook is…’ She gave a long enough pause to make Vicky turn to look at her. ‘Owen.’
‘Owen who?’ asked Vicky, but as soon as the words had left her lips she knew.
‘Owen Hockley who you went out with for, like, a million years. I was really pleased to hear from him and thought you would be too. I had a bit of a stalk on his page and it looks like he’s doing all right for himself. He’s got a little business as a handyman. He’s living near Oxford, looks typically blokey with a huge TV and black sofas. His status says he’s single—’
‘Please tell me you’ve not accepted his friend request?’ Vicky didn’t often feel anxious but she was at that moment. She didn’t want Owen anywhere near her little bubble and the thought that he was trying to connect with people she knew unnerved her.
‘It was all a long time ago,’ said Blythe, taking a crisp.
‘Bloody hell, Blythe. You’ve friended him. Haven’t you?’
‘I wanted to know what he was up to. He looks pretty hot too. Not that I’m interested. But you and he were super cute together back in the day. Catching up with old friends doesn’t do any harm.’
Harm was exactly what it could do. Vicky felt a mild panic set in. ‘Can you just unfriend him, please?’
‘If it bothers you that much, of course I will.’ Blythe gave Vicky a friendly nudge.
