Love and Lies at The Village Christmas Shop: A laugh out loud romantic comedy perfect for Christmas 2018. Portia MacIntosh

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are swooning – maybe even a couple of the men too.

      ‘If that’s not enough, the development will be entirely self-sufficient thanks to renewable energy sources. We’ll combine the use of wind and solar power, which, actually, will create a surplus of electricity, which we’ll be donating to your local school.’

      ‘How would that work?’ George asks.

      ‘All the energy that we create, that we don’t use, will go back to the grid and the net profit will be deducted from the school’s energy bill.’

      As Seb continues to share his plans with his spellbound audience, I tune out a little. His plans are perfect and, if they were anywhere else, I’d want to get behind them too. It’s just…it’s my home, and my business, and if he could find somewhere else, everything would be fine.

      ‘You’ve given us a lot to think about,’ George says, pulling me from my thoughts, bringing me back into the room. I’d say his poker face was firmly on, were it not for the strong handshake he gives Seb. ‘We appreciate you running your plans by us.’

      ‘And I appreciate you taking the time to listen,’ Seb replies. ‘Your blessing is important to me, as is your local MP’s. I’ll be talking with her tomorrow afternoon.’ He starts collecting his things, getting ready to leave. ‘See you, Ivy,’ Seb says to me directly. I give him a half wave and as much of a smile as I can muster.

      ‘Ooh, Ivy, get you,’ Lily from the deli teases, as soon as Seb has gone. ‘So, that’s what I needed to do to get accepted quicker, hmm? Have better tech skills and look good in a suit.’

      ‘OK, thank you, Lily, we’re judging him on his proposal,’ George reminds her. ‘So, let’s go around the room and find out what people think.’

      I notice George glancing around, making awkward eye contact with me before purposefully picking someone from the other side of the room.

      ‘Rob,’ he prompts, calling upon the local butcher first.

      ‘He was very persuasive, wasn’t he?’ Rob says cautiously, testing the waters.

      George nods thoughtfully.

      ‘The thing he was saying about the electricity – I didn’t know that was a thing; that’s pretty cool,’ Lily says.

      ‘Yeah, free electricity for the school…’ George says.

      ‘The stuff about the booking website, and the Staycation of the Year award,’ Arcade Adam starts. ‘Is that legit?’

      ‘It is,’ Tommy from the bookshop chimes in. ‘Just Googled it, Portmeirion won last year.’

      ‘It does sound like it will be good for everyone…’ George says slowly.

      I can hear the excitement in their voices building as they talk about Seb’s proposal. The love hearts in their eyes have turned to pound signs now.

      ‘Ivy?’ George finally says. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘It’s a good idea,’ I admit. ‘But at the cost of my shop and my childhood home…’

      As my voice trails off, an awkward silence follows. I feel like everyone in the room is looking at me, just waiting for me to take one for the team, to put the town before myself. They’ve all been charmed by Seb, with his flashy suit and his big ideas and his cheeky smile.

      ‘Yes, it would be a shame to lose your shop,’ George says. ‘What about an anonymous ballot?’

      ‘We don’t normally do things anonymously,’ I say.

      ‘I know,’ he replies. ‘But, with this affecting a member of the panel, we need to make sure people feel free to vote for what they want.’

      ‘OK, sure,’ I reply.

      Pieces of paper and pens are handed out, for each of us to write down whether we are for or against Seb’s proposal, but as I write my objection down, I can feel that this isn’t going to go my way.

      George collects the pieces of paper, then takes them back to his seat to count them.

      ‘Based on these votes, the majority would like to support Seb in his business venture,’ George announces.

      ‘How many people were against?’ I ask curiously.

      ‘Now, Ivy, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be an anonymous vote, would it?’ he replies, which can only lead me to believe that I was the only person to vote against it.

      I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will convince people my shop is worth saving, so I’m just going to have to do it myself. How, I’m not exactly sure.

       Chapter 7

      To the best of my memory, I’ve only really been in trouble once in my life – nearly 20 years ago.

      Holly and I were in different ability groups for every subject, apart from art class. This not only meant that we got to sit together for something, but I also got to see my sister in all her rebellious glory.

      My mum was always getting letters about my sister, then phone calls, before she was finally was called in for a meeting. In Holly’s defence, she wasn’t bad, she was just…disruptive, and while the rest of the class found her cheeky antics funny, things had got to a point where Holly was on her last warning – one more major disruption, and she would be excluded.

      On this particular day, my sister was more preoccupied with flirting with Lee Blake than she was with the silhouettes we were supposed to be painting.

      I never liked Lee. I always found him to be really smug and entitled. Like he thought just because he was the ‘coolest’ boy in our year then everyone else should bow down to him. My sister was not only willing to take the knee, but she wanted to be his queen.

      I was just sitting and rolling my eyes as they flirted, ignoring the task at hand, until their playful flirting escalated into flicking black paint at each other, which also escalated into black paint being flung across the table, with yours truly being caught in the crossfire.

      Ms Evergreen caught wind and came charging over, ready to reprimand the suspects. She had seen Lee throwing paint so he was banged to rights, but his opponent was still unknown.

      ‘Holly Jones, aren’t you on your final warning?’ she asked angrily.

      ‘It wasn’t me, Miss,’ Holly insisted, unsuccessfully trying to hide her grin.

      ‘No? Then who was it?’

      I didn’t actually think about what I said, before I said it. It just felt right. ‘It was me, Miss,’ I confessed.

      ‘You, Ivy?’ she gasped in disbelief. I remember her glancing down at the painting of a willow tree I’d been working so hard on, and looking back up at me. Now that I think about it, it was obvious I’d been working hard all lesson and that Holly, whose paper was suspiciously blank, apart from a few abstract splashes,

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