Just for Christmas - Emily Harvale Page 0,53

ever said.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I say lots of nice things to you.’

That was true. He did. He’d always been a great support. He’d always been in her corner. And when their parents had died, Terry had been the one who had got her through their devastating loss.

Aunt Maggie and Uncle John had been wonderful. John was their dad’s brother and was many, many years older than their dad. As was Maggie. About twenty years, in fact. Their dad had been ‘a late surprise’. But they welcomed Terry and Molly into their home, even though they had chosen not to have children of their own, just dogs. Maggie and John had loved dogs.

Now they were both gone too. Why was it that so many good people died young? Not that Maggie and John were that young when they died. They had both been in their late seventies.

Since then, it had only really been Molly and Terry. Until Molly had met Ian, and thought she’d found ‘The One’. She had moved to Bristol with Terry’s blessing, only to realise Ian was far from being ‘The One’ after all.

But she’d built a life in Bristol and although she’d seriously considered moving back to Easterhill, for some reason, she had stayed.

The business had taken off and one weekend, she’d come to stay with Terry, gone to the Easterhill summer market, and met Sarah.

That had really made her think about moving back. But in a way, she thought it might interfere with the budding romance she could see unfolding between her brother and her friend. And she was happy in Bristol. She had friends. She dated on and off. Her business thrived. Plus, Easterhill was nowhere near the size of Bristol and having it to come back to for weekends now and then was actually rather nice.

But now, when she thought about going back to Bristol, she felt as if she’d be leaving her heart behind. And more than her heart. She felt as if she’d be leaving her true home.

Wishing Well Cottage would never be her home. She must stop wishing it might. But that didn’t stop her picturing Chance playing catch in the snow-covered garden with Miracle. Or Chance lying in his bed looking up at the stars through those roof skylights.

Not that Chance had a bed yet. Molly knew that was one of the things that hadn’t arrived. Vicky’s offer for him to take his bed from her house still stood, but Molly was certain Chance wanted his new bed to turn up in time for New Year’s Eve, when it would, obviously, be seeing a great deal of action. And that was something Molly really didn’t want to think about.

The day flew by and before she knew it, it was almost ten.

‘Chance is here,’ Terry said.

‘He is?’

She hadn’t texted him. She had planned to walk home on her own, in spite of what Vicky had said.

Chance followed Terry into the sitting room and Molly watched him as Sarah and Terry told him their wonderful news.

For a split second, when he’d seen the ring, he’d glanced in Molly’s direction. Or perhaps she’d imagined he did.

‘Congratulations!’ He looked genuinely pleased. And why wouldn’t he be?

‘There’s nothing quite like being in love,’ Terry said, hugging Sarah tight. ‘You should try it mate.’

‘I … Er … Yes. I should.’

Again, had she imagined Chance had looked at her?

Terry opened more champagne and they toasted to True Love and Happiness and everything along the way.

Almost an hour later, after all four of them had yawned several times, Sarah suggested it was probably time they all went to bed.

And Chance had definitely looked at Molly that time. She was absolutely certain of it. Because he was still looking at her now. And he continued to look at her as she put on her coat and boots and as they left Terry’s cottage and walked along the road. So much so that Molly couldn’t help herself.

‘Okay, Chance, what is it?’ She stopped in her tracks in the snow. ‘You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Are you going to spit it out?’

‘Er.’ He seemed startled and now he looked away. ‘You’re right. I have.’ He turned back and met her gaze. ‘I know this is bad timing. And it’s bloody inconvenient too. I realise that. But the thing is, Molly…’ His phone rang and interrupted him and he cursed as he fumbled in his coat pocket to pull it out.

‘Do you have to answer it?’

‘It might be Mum.’

It obviously