Rose blinked and finally came to life. ‘You have a car.’
‘I am fortunate. I might take you for a drive in it one day.’
Rose looked at the box in her hands. ‘I can’t pay for all this.’
‘I don’t expect you to. Consider the tree as a gift.’
‘I can’t accept it.’
‘Consider it a loan. Now come on . . . we have a lot to do.’
Dazed, Rose followed him into the shop and stared at her floor covered in boxes. Her gaze finally lifted to the fir tree which looked far larger in her shop than it did outside.
‘I can see that I’ve taken you by surprise.’
She didn’t reply. He couldn’t blame her. She had been preparing to close. In only a few minutes he had turned her little tea shop into a room filled with chaos. She looked so small, standing in the centre of the floor littered with boxes and a tree slumped against the far wall. Best forge ahead, he told himself. He had started so he might as well carry on. He began searching for something to stick the tree in.
‘I don’t know anyone who owns a car,’ she said lamely.
He found a bucket. ‘Well you do now.’ He went outside into the backyard in search for some stones to put in it. He found some and returned, carrying the bucket in his arms. He was pleased to see that Rose had opened a box and had dared to peer inside.
‘You aren’t an officer so you can’t be gentry.’
Nicholas busied himself setting the tree straight. Sam hadn’t warned him she was a sharp one.
‘Nicholas?’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t know anything about you. It doesn’t feel right to accept all this from a stranger.’
Nicholas stood back to admire the tree. It leaned a little, but the tilt was only visible if one compared it to the picture on the wall. ‘What do you want to know about me?’
‘Where do you come from?’
‘Cornwall, although my father’s work meant we travelled a bit when I was younger. The tree is ready to be decorated now.’ He opened the remaining boxes and rummaged inside one. ‘Come on, Rose, no shirking,’ he teased. ‘Do you realise this isthe first tree I have decorated for years?’ To his surprise, he felt genuinely excited at the prospect. His excitement must have been contagious, because Rose caught it too.
‘I’ve never decorated a tree before. My parents think it’s a frivolous expense.’
‘Maybe it is, but is that a bad thing? I can’t believe anyone would deny a bit of joy in one’s life.’
‘You’ve not met my parents.’
The remark, said without thinking, stabbed at his heart. He knew very little about her parents. Sam had not told him much about them. He returned his concentration back to the task in hand, unsure whether it would be too forward to question her about them. He gave her a sidelong glance and realised, with surprise, he would like to know. They would, after all, have helped to mould the woman she was today. Before he could ask her, she beat him to it.
‘What are your parents like?’
Nicholas selected a decoration. ‘Father works hard. My mother is . . . a strong woman.’
Rose looked at him, a glass bauble dangling from her hand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She champions for women’s rights. She’s always attending meetings, writing articles, lobbying for something or other.’
‘What does your father think?’
‘He fully supports her, as do I. She has seen great improvement since she was a child, but there is still much to do.’ He was again tempted to ask Rose about her parents, but he had a feeling that the topic would dampen the mood. Instead he handed her another glass bauble. ‘Here, this talk is too serious; we are here to have fun.’
They spent the next hour taking great delight in selecting and hanging the wide range of ornaments he had brought with him. Little toys, glass balls and wired figurines hung amongstartificial flowers, paperboard ornaments and wax-modelled cherubs. The fragrant smell of sweets packaged in handmade horns, mingled with the forest-pine of the tree. Finally, they threaded a length of silk ribbon between the branches and placed a tinsel angel on the top. They stepped back to admire their work, both a little breathless with excitement.
