The Beachside Christmas: A hilarious feel-good Christmas romance by Karen Clarke

Author:Karen Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786812711
Publisher: Bookouture

Chapter Nineteen

It seemed the whole of Shipley had descended on Main Street, which was an eclectic jumble of shops, old and new, all prettily decorated for Christmas and buzzing with shoppers. Bob’s Bakery had a queue of customers snaking out of the door. I recognised a figure coming out, clutching a ‘special of the day’ – a gingerbread Santa. It was Biff, from the café the day before, with a woolly hat pulled low over his brow. He glanced around to check he hadn’t been spotted, before hurrying away, nibbling at Santa’s hat.

‘I didn’t think places like this actually existed,’ Ollie said, doing a slow spin with his hands outstretched, his head tilted theatrically to the sky. He looked as if he was about to twirl around a lamp post, like Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain, but instead of whipping an umbrella up, he checked his watch again.

‘Why do you keep looking at the time?’ I said, aware that we were attracting some curious stares. We must make an odd trio, with Ollie in his lilac jacket, gazing around as though he’d arrived in Oz, me limping along beside him in my parka, and Craig bringing up the rear, his camera perched on his shoulder like a parrot.

‘I’m just checking my watch is still there,’ he said, dodging to let a man with a shopping trolley manoeuvre past, while scanning the area as though looking for someone he knew. Apart from his obviously expensive attire, he had a refined air that set him apart from most of the passers-by, and as he paused to look at a grinning snowman sprayed on the chemist’s window, I noticed a middle-aged woman discreetly take a photo on her phone and show it to her companion. They kept glancing over their shoulders as they moved on, clearly trying to work out who he was but, for once, Ollie seemed oblivious.

‘Shame it’s not snowing for real,’ he said, dipping his eyes to his watch again. ‘I should organise a snow machine for when I switch on the lights. It would add a festive vibe. I could get somebody to helicopter one over.’

I felt a snap of irritation, probably due to my throbbing foot, and because I was cold, even in my scarf, with the hood of my parka pulled up over my hair. ‘How would that be authentic?’ I said. ‘People watch the weather forecast. They’d know it wasn’t real snow.’

He drew his head back. ‘You’re right,’ he said, eyes twinkling as he linked his arm through mine and gave it a little squeeze. ‘I just think snow in December is so…’ He snapped the fingers on his other hand, as though trying to summon the right word.

‘Unlikely?’ I said. ‘Winter doesn’t officially begin until the twenty-first so, statistically, it’s more likely to snow in January or February. It’s why we hardly ever have a white Christmas.’

‘Hey, have you thought of becoming a teacher?’ he said. ‘You’d be really good at it. You have a’ – he rubbed the air in front of my face – ‘vibe, about you.

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