Twelve Days of Christmas: A bestselling Christmas read to devour in one sitting!. Trisha Ashley
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The small shop next to the shuttered Merry Kettle café had overflowed onto the pavement with a stand of fruit and vegetables, bags of potatoes and carrots and netting bags of firewood.
‘I love this shop! Mrs Comfort’s got everything.’
‘It certainly looks like it,’ I agreed. ‘What shall I do with Merlin?’
‘There’s a hook in the wall to tie him to and a bowl of water,’ she pointed out. ‘There, under the table.’
There was, too, and Merlin, tethered, sat down on a piece of flattened cardboard with a look of patient resignation. I think he’d been there before.
Inside, the shop proved to be a Tardis, since it went back quite a way into what had probably originally been the second room of the cottage. In America I think they call this sort of shop a Variety Store and there was certainly an infinite variety of stuff crammed into this one.
Mrs Comfort was plump, with a round face and high cheekbones that turned her eyes to slits when she smiled – rather attractive, in a Persian cat sort of way. Her straight mouse-brown hair was pulled back tightly and clamped to her head with a large, crystal-studded plastic comb.
‘Hi, Mrs Comfort, this is Holly, who’s minding Old Place for Uncle Jude over Christmas.’
‘I thought that couple were back again, that have been before?’ she said, looking at me curiously as I ducked my head to avoid the wellingtons hanging by strings from the beams.
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