Christmas at Rosie Hopkins’ Sweetshop
Page 77
And one day soon, somehow, somewhere, she too would be hand in hand with the man she loved, who she loved so much, and she wondered for a moment whether the stars would look different there.
The golden harvest sunshine hung heavy again on the village, as it always did, and Henry was lifting his hand to her, waving, as he always did, and she darted towards him as she always did.
But this time – this time – he stood and waited for her, and she caught up with him at last, and he took her little hand in his big one, and they went on together.
And outside, over Lipton, the snowflakes swirled and flurried; danced and settled, over fields and rooftops and the kissing gate, and on far into the night.
The golden harvest sunshine hung heavy again on the village, as it always did, and Henry was lifting his hand to her, waving, as he always did, and she darted towards him as she always did.
But this time – this time – he stood and waited for her, and she caught up with him at last, and he took her little hand in his big one, and they went on together.
And outside, over Lipton, the snowflakes swirled and flurried; danced and settled, over fields and rooftops and the kissing gate, and on far into the night.
