Let It Snow. Sue Moorcroft

no-brainer to ask her out once he could.

      Hayley flushed. ‘Then I’ll butt out,’ she said stiffly. She took a step back and he wondered whether it was from his rebuff or from the word ‘young’, which he was a little ashamed of now he’d said it. At nine years older than him Hayley had always been defensive about her age. She crouched down and slid her arms around Doggo, stroking the top of his head with her cheek. ‘Be good for Isaac,’ she whispered. Doggo tried to lick her face so she straightened up, said goodnight and stepped smartly towards her car.

      Isaac watched her drive away, mentally apologising to Lily for using her to show Hayley that she’d lost the right to comment on his life. Then he looked down at Doggo and murmured, ‘But Lily is uber-attractive.’

      Doggo wagged his tail as if to agree. Isaac sometimes thought Doggo was an old soul. His eyes were wise even if he still acted like a puppy.

       Chapter Three

      On Saturday morning Lily stretched and yawned in the compact comfort of the apartment in Carola’s basement, peeking through the curtains at frost sparkling on the shrubs and turning every twig to etched glass. The apartment had once been Carola’s ex-husband’s den and movie room. By the time Lily had come to Middledip assuming she’d stay for a week or so it was an Airbnb. Now she’d lived in it for two years and it was her home.

      Carola’s house was built on a slope so though the apartment was underground at the front it faced the back garden via French doors that allowed light to flood in. It was smaller than both the Peterborough semi and the Barcelona apartment she’d shared with Sergio, and Carola and her daughters lived above her, but she loved it. It was her space: a bedroom, a lounge/kitchen combo and a shower room. A bijou hallway led to steps up to Carola’s kitchen, but though that door was generally unlocked neither of them burst through it unless expected.

      A burst of laughter wafted down from Carola’s part of the house and Lily grinned to hear Owen Dudley’s rich baritone chuckle. He’d only just progressed to staying over when Carola’s teenage girls, Charlotte and Emily, were at home. Carola and Owen had met on a dating site last winter and showed every sign of falling hard for each other. Lily was deeply glad. Carola had told her how flattened she’d been by her husband Duncan’s defection nearly three years ago.

      Lily hopped out of bed and made for the shower, remembering last week when Carola’s happiness with Owen had prompted Duncan to ring and check that their daughters weren’t being neglected for ‘your new man’. Carola had been opening the door to Warwick, Alfie, Eddie and his dad Neil at the time but she hadn’t let that prevent her from hissing, ‘As you left the family for Sherri I don’t think you’re in a position to question me!’ The others had looked awkward at bearing witness to Carola arguing with her ex.

      And on the theme of ‘awkward’ and exes … Lily frowned as she turned on the shower, her thoughts flitting to the tense conclusion to her Thursday evening shift at The Three Fishes when the woman called Hayley had turned up.

      Though polite enough to Lily she’d obviously been there to talk to Isaac and the tense way he’d greeted her had made Lily decide on ‘ex’ as their most likely relationship status.

      Throwing off her black PJs covered in pink hearts – a Christmas gift from Zinnia last year – Lily stepped under the hot shower and turned her face to the spray. She liked Isaac and couldn’t help being aware of his storybook ‘tall, dark and handsome’ looks and the tiny gold earring that put an edge on his groomed style. His eyes at once fascinated and unsettled her – dark and thoughtful, even brooding, she thought she read sadness in them. Had Hayley put it there? Immaculately turned out and obviously several years older than Isaac, she’d reminded Lily of a Cruella de Vil who’d finally got her glossy Dalmatian dog.

      In contrast, after her shower Lily pulled on jeans and a purple jumper depicting a snowman in a Christmas pudding hat and opened her laptop to work on her designs for the British Country Foods stand at the Food, Lifestyle & Health show. British Country Foods was a Swiss company, despite their name, creating typically British baked goods and conserves. The Swiss loved their food and were international in their tastes.

      She hummed ‘Let it Snow’ as she pulled up the files and let the other Christmas songs the Middletones would perform float through her mind. She’d hit on the idea of a singing group when tossing around ideas for the project. BCF had leapt at the idea and had quickly come up with a sponsorship package. Carola, who’d been in choirs when she was younger and whose daughter Charlotte was at the local music school, had not only involved herself but known exactly who to invite to join the group.

      BCF’s stand would be in the food section, obviously, and would include product shelving, plinths for display and tables and chairs for meetings. It gave her a buzz to know that the physical versions of these had already been ordered from a provider local to British Country Foods in the Swiss canton of Zug (pronounced Zoog, Janice’s son Max Gasly had told her). Presently she was going over the elements designed to provide a British flavour. A loop on a TV screen would show the crosses of St George and St Patrick superimposing themselves on the saltire of St Andrew to form the Union Jack. Others would feature moody fade-ins/fade-outs of Welsh valleys, English farmland, the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland and Scottish mountains. BCF’s products were ethically produced and mindfully packaged and trade show focus was on growing their presence in perfectly chosen retail outlets and online stores.

      On the other side of the coin, at the Schützenberg Christmas market the BCF stall would be aimed at selling products directly to the public – especially the Christmas line at this prime time for consumer spending. Apparently expat Brits would give their eye teeth for mince pies or jars of brandy butter, whilst Swiss people had an appetite for wholesome, ethically produced international foods. ‘Britishness’ was BCF’s USP.

      The stall was to be provided by the organisers in the shape of a jolly red chalet and Lily was busy on an interior backdrop. Corporate branding would be low-key to take advantage of the local, crafty feel of the market but it would be there. It wasn’t the sort of thing a designer would normally be employed for but Lily was contracted on a whole-project basis. ‘Whole-project’ had never before included her leading a group of British village singers through Europe to provide cultural authenticity but so what? The company CEO Loris Aebi – known as Los or Los the Boss – was keen on encouraging grassroots arts. She couldn’t wait for her first trip to Switzerland. She hugged to herself a vision of sipping spicy glühwein in between crooning ‘White Christmas’ and ‘Mistletoe and Wine’, wrapped up in a parka and boots as smiling shoppers paused to listen.

      It would be great to see Tubb again too. His spell of ill health had been alarming but she was reassured by his and Janice’s regular contact with The Three Fishes.

      Would she ever feel the time was right to tell him she was his half-sister …?

      Shaking off the question that she seemed to spend half her life wrestling with, she turned to perfecting the designs for the trade stand banners and ‘clings’, the film containing corporate branding that adhered to the stand. She sank into her work, making tiny tweaks to sizes or positions and the rest of the morning flashed by until her phone lit up with a FaceTime call and Max Gasly calling. Quickly, she picked up.

      ‘Hey! Just working on your stuff.’ She turned the phone to give him a flash of her laptop screen then turned it back towards herself.

      Max’s image grinned at her, sandy hair sticking up on top of his head. ‘Great! Everyone’s loving your ideas. Sorry to call you on a Saturday but I just want to check we’re on schedule for final files.’

      ‘I’m sending you stuff for approval this morning. When you’ve okayed them they can go to print,’ said Lily.

      ‘Fantastic,’ he replied. ‘Oh, hang on.’ The image on her screen whooshed around for a couple of moments and when it steadied again a small beaming boy had appeared on Max’s lap.

      Lily,