Severton hadn’t just embraced Christmas, it had been infected by it. Even the sign that welcomed visitors to the town had been tinselled and decorated with holly. Fairy lights were in every window, bar two or three, and most front gardens had been invaded by lit up reindeer or inflatable snowmen or in one case what looked like a dancing version of Santa with his elves in support, reminiscent of a certain film about male strippers.

Sorrell was betting that garden was Gran’s.

The snow still hadn’t arrived. Front pages of tabloids were predicting the worst winter since time began, allegedly, forecasting several feet of snow, which meant the country would come to a stop and no one would be able to get anywhere because no one was used to driving in anything other than wet conditions. However, this hadn’t stopped reservations being made at the hotel. A party of hikers had booked for a week’s stay, apparently taking on some challenge to climb five of the biggest peaks in five days. She’d mentioned it to Zack, who had moaned about irresponsible idiots putting other lives at risk and to a certain extent she agreed with him. She’d also promised to get detailed plans of their climb each day so she could alert the search and rescue team in the event of the party not turning up in the evening.

But before they arrived, it was Christmas, and Zack had been right: nowhere did Christmas like Severton. She heard Christmas carols being rehearsed as she passed the scout hut, a deep baritone adding layers to the music. Three of the telephone boxes had been painted with Christmas scenes by the phantom artist. No one knew who was responsible, but the post boxes and telephone boxes were sprayed regularly with pictures.

Outside the next house was a tall, older woman helping three familiar children put Santa Stop Here signs into the ground.

Sadie Grace was asking twenty questions, not leaving room in between for anyone to give an answer. Her two brothers looked as if they were ready to plant her in the ground along with one of the signs.

“Sorrell!” Sadie’s little voice called out. “Do Santa’s reindeer eat chocolate buttons? I told Daddy they only ate carrots but my brothers are telling me I have to save all my chocolate buttons for them on Christmas Eve.”

Sorrell eyed the two boys who had the decency to look sheepish. “Did your brothers promise to look after your buttons until then as well?” she said, raising her brows.

Sadie Grace nodded. “They said they’d keep them safe with theirs.” She looked at Sorrell and realisation dawned on her, the lights on the large tree in the garden coming on at the same time. “You!” she yelled and started to beat her fists on the nearest brother.

The lady looking after them shook her head and ignored them, giving Sorrell a look. “They deserve what they’re about to get,” she said. “I should stop and intervene, but…” She shrugged.

Sorrell nodded. “I totally agree.” She watched the two brothers try to avoid the little girl punches. They weren’t being properly hurt, just casting her a guilty look every two or three hits.

“That should learn you!” Sadie Grace said, finally putting her hands on her hips. “As punishment when the snow comes, you’re going to help me build the biggest snowman and pull me on a sleigh for a whole day!”

“We will,” one of the boys said. “And we’ll give you our buttons too.”

The other brother screwed his face up but then gave his sister a hug.

Sorrell started to walk on by, needing to hit the post office to send presents to her sister and nephew and have time to get home and be ready for her day date with Zack.

She should’ve been getting married today. Six weeks ago, she’d been dreading this date. This morning she’d woken up early enough to have breakfast just before the guests. She’d updated the website with more pictures and information about Severton. She’d placed the orders for the next week with Jake and a couple of other farms. She’d restocked the bar and chatted with a couple of the guests who had booked a return visit before their current one had even finished. Then she’d wrapped the presents and headed off to see Gran in her natural habitat so that she’d be ready for when Zack came to pick her up at noon.

“Good morning, Sorrell.” The voice that came from near the counter belied the woman’s age. It was melodious enough to have served in the choir that was rehearsing, but contained enough wisdom to dictate its own holy book.

“Good morning, Gran,” Sorrell said, a little tentatively. The woman was a legend, a living one, one known to take no prisoners. Instead she left their carcasses out for the crows.

“All set for your date with Zack?” Gran said, taking the bag with the parcels in without hesitating.

Sorrell’s pause was answer enough.

“It’s Severton, dear. A Maynard going on a date is headline news.” She gave Sorrell a knowing look. “Jake Maynard dropping a woman off at the train station without knowing her surname is not.”

Sorrell laughed. Jake’s reputation was bigger than him and she did think it had been exaggerated. That was until she saw him leave Scott’s bar with two girls, his arms around both of them. And he was sober. At eight in the evening.

“You know them well.” Sorrell watched the woman as she busied about her counter, tidying and organising, continually moving.

“I’ve known them since they were in their mammas’ bellies,” Gran said, starting to weigh each of the parcels. “They’re good boys. Zack especially. He was the cleverest at school and should’ve done a degree other than social work, because heaven knows that’s a poorly paid career, but he was adamant about changing lives. He just needs someone to make him happy outside of what he does now.” Her eyes were shining with expectation.

“We’ve only been on one date,” Sorrell said. “I don’t think marriage is in the cards quite yet.” Then she remembered what the date was and what would’ve been happening right now, touching the bare finger where her engagement ring had been.

“Friday the thirteenth was never a date to set as your wedding, dear,” Gran said, her eyes not missing anything.

“How did you know?” Sorrell asked, knowing it was a stupid question. This was Severton: someone somewhere would have done a background check.

Gran shook her head. “I know anyway, but Zack came in here and told me. He wasn’t sure how to go about making sure you were over it and he wasn’t going to be a rebound.”

“He’s not going to be a rebound,” Sorrell said, knowing if he was, she wouldn’t have been making such good use of the vibrator Gwensi had recommended this past week.

Gran nodded. “I figured as much.”

“How?” Sorrell was curious. She’d only met Gran a couple of times, and only once when Zack was about.

“I’ve never seen him so—focused—on a woman. He’s had plenty of girlfriends, don’t get me wrong. Never as many as Jake, but he and Scott are no retiring virgins. But he’s been in here several times and has mentioned you. Nothing specific, so don’t get your Victoria’s Secrets in a twist. You’ve just been in his conversations.”

Sorrell tried not to look too pleased, but then her stomach started to tighten lower down, that horrible anxious feeling rumbling through her. “Is it too soon?”

“For what?” Gran said, sticking a label onto one of the presents. “Last post before Christmas? You’ve got ages before that.” She was being deliberately obtuse, Sorrell could tell.

Sorrell gave a short laugh. “No. For a date with a man when I should’ve been marrying another.”

Gran rested both arms on the counter. “You only get one shot at this life, dear. If you spend months waiting for an acceptable time to do anything, you’re going to miss out on lots. Timing is decided only by you. If you think it’s too soon because it’s not fair on Zack as you’re still hung up on your ex-fiancé…”

“I’m not,” she said. “And he’s hardly pining for me.” She’d seen his Facebook status: he’d been tagged as being in a relationship with a woman she’d never heard of. She hadn’t clicked on her profile, not needing to know anything about her, or wanting to either.

“So what was today, dear, apart from the biggest waste of money you’d have parted with?” Gran said, continuing with the parcels.

“The day I potentially set myself up to be a divorcee within a couple of years,” she said, feeling the brutality of such honesty as sharply as the cold air outside.

“So doing whatever our Zack has planned is just a date with an attractive man. With the potential to check out his equipment at the end of it,” Gran added.

Sorrell’s jaw dropped, slightly stunned that this woman who was certainly in her seventies was referring to Zack’s ‘equipment’.

Gran laughed quietly. “You know; the equipment he uses for your date. As in the activity…. What did you think I meant?”

“She knew exactly what you meant.” Maud strode behind the counter. “Ignore the silly old bat. It’s been that long since she’s seen a penis she thinks a ball sack is something rugby players use.”

“And how long is it since you saw a man’s appendage?” Gran said. “Batty old cow yourself.”

“I saw Harold Wilmott’s barely two weeks ago. It was a shame…”

“And stop right there.” Sorrell lifted her hand to make sure that the ladies knew she really did mean stop. She had no desire to hear anything about Harold Wilmott’s penis, in case she ever had to look him in the eye. “How much is the postage?”

Gran gave her an amount that was definitely more than she would’ve paid for a train ticket to see her sister.

Sorrell settled up, only giving half an ear to the rest of Maud and Gran’s conversation, most of which was focused on penises, their length and girth. She left the post office slightly concerned about the nightmares she would have later and walked straight into Zack, all six feet two of solid farm boy muscle.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he said, smiling down at her. “Is it safe in there?”

“They’re discussing penises. And who’s seen one most recently.”

He stooped down, dropped two large hessian sacks on the floor and put both his arms around her. It was the first real public display of affection they’d had, short of a very discreet kiss in a pub a few weeks ago.

“I’m not sure if I’m safe going in there,” he said. “Last time they were having that debate they asked me if I’d ever sent any dick pics. Then they started discussing how to hack into The Cloud.”

“That isn’t in the slightest bit disturbing.” Sorrell found her hands had automatically located themselves on Zack’s stomach, under his jacket. “I’m mauling you in public.”

“Feel free. As long as you don’t share any pics in public. Or with the coven.” His hands were now in her hair and she had a feeling that at some point soon he’d be tugging on that hair when they weren’t in public.

He gave a quiet sigh. “I have got to go in there. There’s another sack of presents to pick up. And before I take you where we’re going, I have to do a job—I was wondering if you’d help.”

His eyes were twinkling, making her forget about today’s non-event and running a hotel and anything else because nothing else right now was significant, except him. And it had been too long since anyone had made her feel that way.

“What’s the job, Maynard? I know better to agree to something without the fine print,” she said. Her fingers were under his T-shirt now, feeling his taut skin and the warmth of his body.

“It’s on our way. It involves carrying one of these bags and I can show you something amazing.” His smile was amused and happy and he was looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered right now. Almost.

“That sounds like something a stranger would say to get a small child home with them.” She eyed him. “Not that I think you’re a creep or anything.”

“Good job.” He still had hold of her.

“You should probably do what you need to do in there,” she said, amused with his reluctance to let go.

“I’m not sure I’m willing to let you go in order to be eye-fucked by at least two members of the coven,” he said. “It sounds too much like some sort of sacrifice.”

“When you put it like that, I’m not sure I’m willing to let you go in there and be eye-fucked either,” Sorrell said, gripping just a tad harder round his waist. “How about I come in with you?”

His grin turned a little shit-eating. “Needing to make sure there’s something left of me afterwards?”

She laughed, feeling her sex get a little tighter, her body a little closer to his. “They know we’re going on a date today.”

He kissed the top of her nose. “I mentioned it. I may have mentioned it to a few more people too. It’s Severton: secrets don’t exist here.”

“Gotcha,” she said. “Let’s face your audience.”