as a chance to do it all over and get it right this time or whether he’ll want to run for the hills. Does it show how little I know the real Shelby, that I have no idea how he’ll react to my news?
Chapter Fifty-Seven
When we get back to the farm, preparations for the open day are in full flow. Bev has taken the students out to gather holly and now they’re knee-deep in it. There’s also a basket full of pine cones from the woods that border our property. Anna is here showing them how to twist the holly into wreaths and garlands, threaded with the cones.
‘Some of these are good enough to sell.’ Bev holds up a particularly attractive specimen of glossy, dark green leaves heavy with the most scarlet of berries.
‘That’s beautiful.’
‘Lottie’s handiwork. We have some very talented crafters here,’ Bev says while Lottie puffs up with pride. ‘I’m going to turn her into a wreath-making machine. What do you think we’d get for them? A fiver?’
‘I think that would be worth five pounds of anyone’s money.’
‘We are going to be swimming in cash after this,’ Bev says, happily. ‘Trust me.’
‘Anything I can do?’
She lowers her voice so I’m the only one who can hear. ‘I’d thought that Alan would dress up as Santa for a couple of hours, but I think it will be all too much for him. I don’t want him traumatised by a ton of overexcited kids. Can you rope anyone else in?’
‘I could ask Christian Lee,’ I suggest. ‘He said he was planning to drop in. I’m sure it would be right up his street.’
‘Call him,’ Bev says. ‘Tell him we’ve already got a costume. That will be another thing crossed off my list.’
‘Consider it done.’ I can’t see him putting up much resistance, though we may have the most camp Santa there ever was.
Bev throws a bunch of mistletoe to me. ‘Look what Jack found in some of the apple trees. I didn’t even know we had any here.’
I look at the mistletoe, its delicate leaves and berries like pearls. ‘I haven’t seen this in a long time. Or had the need for it,’ I add.
‘Do you want me to hang it in the yard for you?’ Matt asks.
‘Great idea,’ Bev says. ‘It will give me loads of excuses to snog Alan.’
‘I’ll help you.’ So I follow Matt outside with an armful of mistletoe and he grabs the ladders, some nails and a hammer.
‘Here?’ He leans the ladders against the barn.
‘Yeah. As good as anywhere, I think.’
I pass him a bunch of mistletoe and he hangs it from the beam. ‘Not too high?’
‘Just perfect.’
When he climbs down, we both look up to admire it.
‘We should check it’s the right height.’
So we both stand under it and it dangles, enticingly, above our heads. ‘Told you it was perfect.’
Then we turn to each other and there’s a moment where the temptation to kiss him is very strong. From the look on Matt’s face, I think that he feels the same. We’re close, our bodies inches apart and it would be so very simple for our lips to meet. My heart is pounding and I wonder what magic this mistletoe is performing.
‘Molly . . .’
That breaks the spell and I step away from him. This isn’t right. I’m with someone else. I’m having his child. ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, beautiful. But I wanted to ask you something.’
Now I’m all flustered. ‘We have so much to do. We’d better get on.’
He puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me still. ‘I’m having a charity ball in January. It usually raises thousands of pounds and I want Hope Farm to be the main beneficiary.’
‘That’s fantastic, Matt. I’m so grateful.’
‘It’s my pleasure. You know that I’ve fallen in love with this place.’ We both look bashful at the choice of his words. ‘I hold you in the greatest respect, Molly, and I’d also like to ask you to come along as my guest.’
‘Me?’
‘I’d be delighted if you’d be by my side.’
The telling thing is that I actually want to go with him, and you know from previous experience that this kind of event is usually my idea of hell. My mind is whirring. Should I go? I feel that we’re becoming too close and, if I’m honest with you, I enjoy spending time with Matt far more than I should.
‘Say something,’ he urges.
‘You should probably take someone else,’ I say, sadly. ‘I’m hopeless at socialising. I’d