Page 42 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

“Phew!” Shelley puffed out a breath that floated like a white cloud in front of her face. “I can’t believe these crowds!”

The street was thronged with shoppers too intent on their Christmas lists to pay attention to where they were going. She stepped aside as a harassed mum with a small child and a pushchair steered erratically towards her.

The Christmas lights had been switched on and were twinkling above their heads — snowflakes and angels and Christmas trees — and every shop was festive with tinsel and baubles, Santas and reindeer sleighs. The excitement of the season fizzed in the air like champagne.

Jess laughed. “Only two weeks to go to Christmas. I used to live in Bristol, and it was just as bad — probably worse!”

“I’ve never been to Bristol,” Shelley confessed. “Actually, I’ve never been to Exeter before either.”

“Never?” Jess raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve lived in Sturcombe for three years.”

“I know, but somehow I never got round to it. There was never anything much I needed to buy. But I’ve really enjoyed today. Thanks for bringing me.”

“Ah, shopping’s always more fun with a friend. Hey, look!” She darted over to a dress-shop window. “Now, that would be perfect for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Shelley frowned at the price tag. “It’s a bit expensive.”

“But you have to have it. You’ll look fabulous in it.”

“It is pretty.” It was a light turquoise blue, with thin shoulder straps and three floating asymmetric layers of chiffon falling to just above the knees. “But I’ve never paid that much for a dress before.”

“If you don’t buy it, I will. Come on.”

With a wry smile Shelley followed her into the shop.

This was another first. She’d never even been in a proper dress shop before. But she did want something nice to wear for the hotel’s Christmas party.

In previous years she’d always worn the same dress — a pink flowered cotton one she’d bought in a charity shop in London for five pounds. But Jess had already dived into the rack and pulled out this one.

“Here. I think this is your size. Give me your bags and go and try it on.”

The changing room was guarded by a dragon . . . Well, okay, just a middle-aged woman in the shop’s uniform, who actually smiled at her. “There’s an empty cubicle down at the end there.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping into the cubicle, she pulled the curtain across, hung up her jacket and quickly slipped out of her clothes. Fortunately, the dress had a side zip so it was easy to do up. And then she turned and looked at herself in the long mirror.

Oh . . .

Her eyes looked bluer, and the chiffon layers skimmed over her figure in a way that seemed to enhance her curves and make her legs look longer. And as she moved, it drifted around her like blue smoke.

What would Alex think of it? Her heart fluttered. Alex . . .

She’d seen little of him since he’d bought the hotel.

Apart from that one time when he’d been showing the interior designer round, he rarely came upstairs, and she had little need to go downstairs.

On the few times they had encountered each other, he had been pleasant, friendly, but no more than that.

Maybe she’d just been imagining that he’d wanted something more. She probably had.

Anyway, the dress wasn’t just about Alex. She regarded her reflection in the mirror, tilting up her chin. It was a symbol, a statement that she had left her old life behind, that she was making a place for herself in the world. An ‘up yours’ to all the people who’d called her thick, bad, worthless.

Ten minutes later, with her shopping bags a little heavier and her bank account a little lighter, she and Jess were out in Princesshay again.

“Shall we take a look at the Christmas Market?” Jess suggested. “It’s not far.”

“Right.” They walked down a narrow alley, past the remnants of ancient Roman walls and past the tiny church on the corner that was nearly as old. Turning the corner, they came to the open-air market on the Cathedral Green.

Shelley stared at it in amazement. The place was buzzing. A hundred or more wooden Bavarian huts were clustered around the great medieval Cathedral, its ancient stonework glowing gold against the twilight sky.

Jess took her arm and they plunged in, wandering through the throng between stalls selling pottery, scented candles, jars of honey.

Dozens of mingled aromas drifted on the air — spicy mulled wine and roasting chestnuts, crispy potato pancakes with melted cheese, sizzling bratwurst sausages slathered in honey mustard, and more.

“Oh, look at these!” Jess darted to one of the stalls which was selling carved wooden toys. She picked up a small puzzle box. “They’d be perfect for the kids.”

“Oh, yes.” Shelley bent to examine the display. “I was looking for something for Noah. This would be perfect.”

They strolled on, pausing from time to time to look at a display of silver jewellery or embroidered blouses. A little further along they came to a stall selling lovely hand-painted silk scarves.

“Oh, I want to get one of those for Helen Channing.” Shelley glanced quickly at Jess. “Do you think she’d like one?”

“Of course. They’re lovely.”

Shelley chose one in subtle shades of green, and handed it to the stallholder. “I’d like this one please.”

She wasn’t bothered by the cost — this was for Helen. The stallholder wrapped the scarf in tissue paper and handed it over as Shelley tapped her bank card on the terminal.

“Right. I don’t know about you, but I could really do with a sit down and a cup of coffee,” Jess declared.

“Good thinking. There’s a café over there. Let’s go and see if we can find a table.”